From that pew, our parents watched their little girls grow in years and faith. As toddlers my sisters and I crawled around that pew with our church shoes on, scuffing everything in sight. As we grew into little girls, we stood proudly that pew when the congregation stood up to sing. Our parents even sat there proudly as we butchered one arrival song after another when we were first learning to play piano.
It was to that pew that I glanced to my parents for support during Christmas pageants, scripture readings, and even my post-mission trip testimonial. That very pew is also home to my favorite church tradition of singing Silent Night in the dark on Christmas Eve with candles in our hands. Singing that song in the special pew always takes me back to a more innocent time, when we were just little girls in dress shoes, scuffing everything in sight.
On the rare occasions that someone else sat in our pew before we arrive, I wondered if they noticed those scuffs. If they did, did they think of them as yet another project in an aging church, or did they view them with wonder and think about their story? I always dreamed it would be the latter because that pew has left an everlasting mark on my heart.
Over the years, the congregation of our church has dwindled away and the pastors have encouraged everyone to sit together at towards the front of the church. This change has been easier for some members of my family than others. Collectively we have hundreds of special memories in that pew, but for my sister and I that pew encompasses our lives in that very church. And that is why, without end, you'll always find my sister and I sitting in the second pew from the back, on the right.