Roots

It is Summertime in Tennessee; Father’s Day to be exact. That means one thing if you are a Woodard.

 Everybody goes to camp!

Every two years The Woodard Family comes together for three days of food, fun, and fellowship. There are around 60 of us who actually brave this endeavor. 

We are the “Children, grandchildren, and the greats”

Remnants of another time....

Two parents, 10 kids, and the succession which produced me.

                         The roots of our family.

It’s funny thing about roots, they grow deep. Growing up “a Woodard, part of Verdie’s clan (my grandmother) is just part of who I am. I found comfort in knowing I had an ancestry. Documented stories, pictures, places and events that filled in the holes from which I came.

 I love the stories,enjoy the fun, but it has never just been about entertainment.
There was always something different about this group, even as a child I saw it. Our common denominator wasn’t just our genealogy, but our God.

My memories of reunions were of us taking time on Sunday mornings—and coming together to worship our God. Songs of the faith, lessons from days of old. Prayers of thanksgiving from the past. Plans for the future. Our faith brought us back together.

The faith of our family is our legacy.

My memories of my Grandmother (one of the 10) are simple, a green chair and a Bible. The staples to her life. Walking into her house, you always knew where to find her. In her green chair, reading her Bible. Her faith was rooted in her core, central in her life. She taught youth Sunday School into her 80’s and was amazing!

Passing on her faith to the next generation.

She got it! She understood its importance. She had found the value of passing on a legacy. But from where?

Faith can be taught, but more often it is caught.

To love your God so completely… that your children find Him.

I was Grandmother’s favorite (we all were). She always demanded when I left on my long drives to call her when I got home. One day I finally asked her why. She said “I wait, and I pray for you and your safety until you get home.” That was a 6 hour drive. She would hang up the phone with me and say “Amen.” I had my very own prayer warrior! I couldn’t help but live so closely to this faith that it began to rub off.

I saw it in her, I see it in my parents, and I had to find it.

I now understand the words of an older song, “through YOUR faith, I have come to believe in a prayer."



What a legacy to leave. What an Inheritance. What a gift.

 To have a faith lived out in front of you so genuinely..... you know it is real.


What a responsibility…

The rest of that song says “We must not let the years erase, this inheritance of amazing grace, But through every tomorrow, Our children must follow, In this passage of faith.”

Our charge is to continue.

I have to now hand down this faith to my children. I get to touch tomorrow. We all will. One way or another, we will pass on this legacy of faith.

And I can’t wait….cause one day, in Heaven, I will see my grandmother (Verdie) again… she is still awaiting my safe arrival HOME. We will watch our family. My children, and grandchildren… serving Her God, The circle will be unbroken. The family legacy will remain. I will get to hear her say to me again, “You know, the funny thing about roots is that they do grow deep. This, my child, pleases me.”