My father, Charles Stewart, was an unassuming Scotsman, of profound thought and few words. The words he did speak were often repeated, a trait that became more habitual as he aged, with which I wasn’t as patient as I should have been. Because it is those oft heard musings that ring in my ears now years later. It may be thoughts on a particular Scripture verse, or a comment on the news of the day. I think his thoughts after him, bidden or unbidden.
Two things emerge from this: my humble desire to leave a legacy of words for my own children and grandchildren. And the desire to know my Father in such intimate ways that His words ring in my ears, and His thoughts become my thoughts, until they become as unbidden as the breath I take.
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