If you could wash away the sands of time you might be able to see your roots—the things you learned in your earliest childhood, the teachings you gleaned from your parents and ancestors without ever being aware that you were learning.
What of your roots is visible to you at this moment?
By example more than words, my Dad–a Presbyterian minister–taught me that religion was more about how I related to other people than it was about what I believed.
I think about my roots all the time. Little that is current seems appropriate anymore. Which concerns me. Isn’t that the first sign of Alzheimers?????