Whenever I talk to my grandchildren today, I realize that I have many stories to tell of a time and a place that no longer exists. It’s different from Mother’s, but gone never-the-less. Only a vapor remains of the Santa Fe, Burlington Northern, and Union Pacific railroads, that clickety-clack of steel wheels on rails, a mode of transportation I enjoyed frequently. Even the days of sleek ’57 Chevy’s, Elvis’s Teddy Bear, the Beatles, and Motown aren’t appreciated by today’s youth. From Saddle Oxford’s and poodle skirts to go-go boots and the flower child, my era has faded even out of the background.
In All That Matters, not only my mother’s story comes to life, but mine as well, and depicts how a loving God protected and guided us through some of our most difficult trials. From the simpler days of one room schoolhouses to beyond the fretful days of Y2K, both books provide a looking-glass back into the twentieth century and reveal, when all is said and done, the only thing that matters is eternity.