Grandpa

I went to visit my Grandpa yesterday in the hospital. It was sobering to see him looking fragile, since I’ve always pictured him as larger than life. Whether in Christian ministry or in his own business, he worked hard and was honest and humble. During most of my childhood my grandparents lived close enough to visit often. Staying at their house, in the guest room was a privilege (it even had its own bathroom!). Waking up late and having breakfast with them was such fun.
My grandfather is a quiet man who measures his words. Thinking back, I can’t remember my grandpa ever saying anything bad about anyone. He is also very intelligent and creative. Until recently, he made wood projects in his large shop. Everyone in the family is thankful for the handcrafted items my grandpa made for them over the years. I have quite a few things that he made. I have a cedar chest that I received for a graduation gift that is just beautiful with inlaid wood. My favorite thing from him is the Barbie furniture he made for both my sister and I when we were little. The double size Barbie bed and bunk-beds for the kids are sturdy enough to hold “real” people. My grandpa can’t work with wood anymore. It is sad to see his once strong and steady hands shake.
Yesterday, I was thinking in particular about a conversation that my grandpa had with me right after I graduated high school. My whole family was over at my grandparent’s house for lunch on a Sunday afternoon. I was sitting at the kids’ table and all the other “kids” got up to leave. My grandpa came over and asked if he could talk to me. Since he’s always been a man of few words, I was nervous that I had done something wrong and he was there to confront my immaturity. Instead he asked me about my goals and dreams for the future. At that time, my future seemed hazy to me and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. He told me I was smart and talented. He told me also that he thought I was very special and he was praying for me. I only remember nodding and saying a mumbled “thanks,” but his kind words have suck with me. As I started making decisions that would mold my life, I thought of that conversation and his carefully thought out expressions. When tough times came and I wondered if I had chosen wisely, I remembered that my very wise and kind grandfather thought that I was special.
Now, as he lies in the hospital, I still think of him as a strong man. The life he lives with integrity and his thoughtful words are stronger than any sickness.