Step by step

Rev. Cheryl Cruce Columnist I’m sure it happened like this, though I don’t remember my first steps. Nonetheless, I imagine Mom there, her two fingers tucked safely in my little hands as she steadied my feet. Her voice, soft and sure, urging me to stand… and then to take a brave, first step. Then I picture the day she and Dad knelt on the floor, a small space between them. I imagine Mom lifting me to my feet, and Dad with outstretched arms, his voice calling to me. Those initial steps to