Proof The Bible Is True

Both my parents had died in the autumn, and every fall I felt melancholy. This day—one week after the anniversary of my mom’s death, 11 years earlier—I sat on the porch, missing her even more than usual.

 

A widow for two decades, Mom devoted herself to her family—my younger brother, Bill, her three grandchildren and me. We saw each other every day and enjoyed going to flea markets together. “I’m praying for you,” she liked to say. “I’m asking God to watch over you.”

 

One Christmas, my brother bought her a gold-tone locket. He had her initials engraved on the outside, HRS for Helen Ruth Summers. We tucked photos of the grandkids inside: Bill’s sons on the left, my daughter on the right. Mom loved that locket. But after she died, we couldn’t find it anywhere. I came to accept that somehow it had been lost with Mom.

 

Read More: The Miraculous Return of Her Mother’s Locket | Guideposts