A Sunday Journey to Grandma’s House

There was something magical about Sunday afternoons at Grandma’s house.

It didn’t matter how busy the week had been or how much homework was waiting—I always looked forward to those few hours like they were the best part of life. The moment we pulled into her driveway, it felt like time slowed down.

Grandma would be waiting at the door, apron on, arms wide open, smelling like homemade biscuits. The house always smelled like comfort—chicken, fresh rolls, and something sweet cooling on the counter. We never had to wonder what was for dinner. The answer was always, “Come in and see.”

After we ate (always too much), the grown-ups would talk in the living room while we kids ended up outside—barefoot in the grass, playing tag or just swinging on the old porch swing. 

Grandma’s house didn’t have all the latest things, but it had what mattered most—warmth, laughter, and the kind of peace you can’t explain but you feel deep in your bones.

Looking back now, I realize it wasn’t just about the food or the fun. It was the feeling of being known, loved, and welcomed. It was family in its purest form.

Sunday afternoons at Grandma’s were more than a tradition. They were memories being stitched into the fabric of who we are.

A Journey of Unexpected Grace

It’s easy to assume that Jesus would choose the best and the brightest to reveal Himself to first. A religious leader, maybe. Someone well-respected. But that’s not what He did.

Instead, He chose a woman.

Not just any woman—one who had been rejected by her own people. She came to the well alone in the heat of the day, probably because it was easier than facing their stares. Her past was messy. Her heart likely heavy. But it was there, in that quiet, lonely moment, that Jesus met her. And not just to say hello. He revealed who He truly was—the Messiah. Before He told anyone else that plainly, He told her.

Why?

Because that’s who Jesus is.

He meets us in our brokenness. He doesn't wait until we’re polished and presentable. He sees value in the unseen. He speaks truth to the heart that’s hiding. And He chooses those who feel unworthy to carry His story.

That day at the well wasn’t just about water. It was about grace. About being fully known and still fully loved.

Jesus saw her—and He sees you.

He knows the shame, the regrets, the reasons you keep to yourself. And still, He shows up—not to shame you, but to save you. Not to turn away, but to draw near.

Because the journey of faith often starts in unexpected places with unexpected people. And the ones who know they need Him most are often the first to truly see who He is.

“Then Jesus declared, ‘I, the one speaking to you—I am He.’” – John 4:26