A Girl And Her Grampy

04/10/2021

“The cat PISSED in my boot!” my grandfather exclaimed in exasperation as he stomped through the front door of the house on Scottie Godwin road in Wade, North Carolina. I can see him so clearly. A blue bandana covered his forehead and was cinched at the nape of his neck while a ball cap with a trucking logo covered his balding head, placed just off center. On his–maybe–5’5” frame he wore a plain, pocket t-shirt that was securely tucked into his blue work pants which were fastened around his belly with a black belt. Peeking out of the bottoms of his pants were his feet in the stark white socks that should’ve gone into the boots he was ‘pissed’ about. 

I can hear myself gasp as I heard him say the word ‘pissed’. I can see my eyes wide and mouth agape in astonishment at his surprising use of a less than ‘nice’ word. And then I can hear myself giggle as I say, “Grampa!!” This memory still makes me snicker. 

Whenever I think of my grampy, I see him on a John Deere lawn mower cutting grass, or with his hands in the dirt patiently tending to the garden. I see him tenderly nurturing the flowers he planted for my granny along the front of the house. I see him with a dog or a cat in his lap. (He loved his animals–even the ones who decided to use his boots for their litter box). A lot of times, his lap would hold a grandchild AND a pet. I hear him reading the story of the birth of Jesus on Christmas Eve every year from the book of Luke. I can hear him say, “There’s our girl, granny” when I would walk into their house, and “Don’t forget whose little girl you are” whenever I got into my car to go anywhere.  

He was a quiet man, but when he got into the pulpit, his voice resonated through each soul that sat within earshot. He always spoke the truth, and he always spoke it in love. He loved Jesus more than any man I have ever met, and before he went to be with Him, I often heard him say how desperately ‘homesick’ he was. I can still hear the beginning of every prayer he ever prayed in my presence: “Our precious heavenly Father…” And I always knew Jesus was precious to him. 

What I can see most when I remember him is how he looked at me. The last 10 or so years he was with us, I am pretty sure he never saw me sober. Yet, he NEVER looked at me with judgement or disappointment. He ALWAYS looked at me with compassion and love. He never withheld hugs and kisses or distanced himself from me when I was in the throes of addiction. He never looked down his nose at me or lectured me. My grampy simply loved me in SPITE of the mess of a life I was creating. I am confident he knew that I was living a life bound for hell because grampy had a direct connection with the Holy Spirit, but he never treated me as though I was forever doomed to this fate. I am not sure he would’ve treated me any different had he thought I’d never turn my life around. 

In essence, my grampy was who I imagine Jesus to be. He loved people no matter their shortcomings. He loved his Father and he told anyone who would listen about the Father’s unconditional love for them…not only in words, but also in how he lived his life. 

I saw and felt the love of Jesus in my grampy. It never failed no matter the kind of day he was having…no matter the level of annoyance at things like cat-soiled boots. 

The day he left us is burned in my memories. It shattered my heart in a way that I can’t describe without becoming a blubbering mess. There are many times I would love nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around me and tell me that he loves me; many times I’ve had bad dreams and wanted to call him to pray for me; many times I just needed him to look at me like he used to; and sooooo many times when I just needed to hear his voice. Oooooh, how I miss him. 

But I wouldn’t wish him back from the Home he longed for–from the feet of the Precious Heavenly Father he loved so much. 

What my grampy left for me was the truth that it is possible to be the hands and feet of Jesus here on earth. It is possible to love people no matter who they are, what color they are, what social status they carry, what car they drive, how big their house, what church they go to, or what country they live in. It is possible to be like Jesus and show those who don’t know Him a love unlike anything this world could offer. I strive to do this on a daily basis, and I know I fail…but if there is anyone I want to be like when I ‘grow up’, it’s my grampy. 

His birthday was April 17, 1935…so happy birthday week in heaven, grampy. I love you and miss you so very much.