Strawberry Jam and the Voice of God
This morning, I wasn’t just looking for strawberry jam. I was looking for her. My grandmother, Mabel Bentley. Mawmaw, to me. It started so simply. I was placing a grocery order and had a taste for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But not just any jelly—strawberry. I’ve always loved strawberry jam. As I scrolled through the options, something stirred. Jelly. Jam. Preserves. That’s what she…













