When we were just girls we chased after lightning bugs, barefoot through freshly cut grass. Our fathers played baseball just as they had for decades. Our mothers spread out blankets and prepared summer picnics. We saw each other nearly every Sunday at church. At Christmas, we participated in pageants at church and eagerly waited for Easter morning where the smell of fresh lilies would fill the sanctuary.

Many Friday evenings we'd change into pajamas, gather our sleeping bags after dinner. Our parents would play endless hours of Rook while we camped out in sleeping bags in nearby rooms.

Nearly 30 years later, we are now not just daughters and sisters but wives, mothers, and believers in Christ. We value our history and recognize that our roots aren't just between our families and the special friendship we've forged.

The seeds have spread -- they have grown, they have multiplied. Like the groves of dandelions in summer, the leaves provide nourishment, while the golden blooms provide sweet, sweet nectar for the soul. Our roots run deep. Faith. Family. Friendship.

"Let your roots grow down into him and your life be built on him. Then you will be strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness." (Colossians 2:7)

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