The church begged to be photographed. It is a classic white structure with a steeple that points through the towering pines to the heavens.

At the time of my childhood, which is the setting for these memories, the front door of the church was accessed by a long flight of narrow steep steps. It was a nightmare for a man on crutches. It could have been a valid reason to not attend.

But not for my grandpa. For him, and for us when we visited, it only meant we leave early for church so Grandpa can do the agonizing work of climbing the steps with crutches.

As a kid I hated to wait as Grandpa struggled with this weekly climb. Today I cherish this picture as a stepping-stone for my own faith.

Something was compelling Grandpa. No, Someone. Thank you, Jesus.

Who put stepping-stones in your childhood faith?