| Matthew 19:14 – Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” |
Tuesday evening, we were face-timing with our son, daughter-in-law and our two grandchildren. Sage showed us her artwork, and then Milo did the same. Pictures they had colored that day. I got in the “show and tell” spirit and showed them my lunchbox. It has my alma mater logo on it. My wife asked “Milo, what letters are these?” Milo: “U. O.” (University of Oklahoma, so he was exactly right). I feel like a rock star when we are with them. They treat me that way.
Sometimes, for relevance, I think back to my feelings towards my grandparents. For six of my first seven years, we lived in town with my dad’s parents. And for several of those years, we lived one block from their house. I could go there in a flash. We went to church together. I remember laying down on the pew (sometimes) and my grandfather would sing a bass note and vibrate the bench. My grandmother lined her kitchen floor with newspaper when she cooked. She would serve me Dr Pepper in 6 ounce bottles, ice cold from the refrigerator. It was so good. 30 years later, I was an employee of Dr Pepper, at the old Mockingbird Lane headquarters. Whenever they would mix up a batch of syrup in the building, the aroma of it would permeate every office. I would start thinking about my grandmother, and could not for the life of me figure out why. Eventually, I recalled those ice cold Dr Peppers she served me. And that was the only time I ever drank it until I worked there in my 30s. Deep seated memory.
My grandfather owned a hardware/feed & seed store in Healdton, Oklahoma. One day I got sick at school. My mother came and got me. I had to hang out at the store, as my mother worked for him. It was a day I still remember. I felt fine after we got there. I went through the whole store. The rifles, pistols, fishing tackle, riding lawnmowers, roto tillers, outboard boats on trailers. I “piloted” every boat on it’s trailer. My father was the mechanic who repaired all the motors. He ran a gas station across town. Everyone knew me. I thought I had the best grandparents in the world. From where I stood, they were.
It broke my heart the day we packed up everything and moved to Virginia. My dad had enlisted full time in the US Army. He had done his best to scrape out a living, but just couldn’t do it in Healdton. He was not an entrepreneur like his father. My grandfather opened an ice house at 14 years old, then took the reigns of the family bakery, went to dry goods, groceries, and then hardware/feed&seed. I still remember us driving away in our car, waving to them as we left town. I could not see for all my tears. It took me years to recover from that.
I loved my other grandparents too. My mother’s father had a heart condition, and had to take a less stressful job as a night watchman for an oilfield tool company. He had been a drilling superintendent on an oil rig. I thought he was pretty important as a night watchman. We would take him dinner. My mother would make us get down in the floorboard as we drove by the drive-in theater after dark. They showed some “adult” movies there. And the screen was visible over the fence.
My grandmother called me Jeff-ery. It was actually Jeff-rey. I never corrected her. It was her unique way of saying my name. She worked at the Odessa College bookstore. I got plenty of OC sweatshirts. I wore them proudly. It broke my heart to leave them for Virginia as well. But time heals. I would not have believed it could but it did. And now, I am a grandfather myself. “Papa”.
Father in heaven, thank You for the healing You give us from the arrows that pierce our hearts at times, in Jesus’ name, Amen!
