Judy Hardy

As we plan this one hundredth issue of Reformed Worship, the skies outside my window are filled with low-hanging clouds. The earth itself is digging in for the season when nature’s beauty is bleak. Only a few papery leaves cling to the bare branches of the trees. It’s dark when I arrive at work and dark when I drive home again.

My firstborn got married this summer. The setting was the church she’s attended ever since she was three months old. In these familiar and well-worn surroundings she and her new husband spoke the vows of a lifetime.