Memories…
They can be like a refreshing walk down a garden path OR
Memories can sometimes flood us with pain.
Yesterday, I had the privilege of joining my grandmother and grandfather at my teenage son’s school. Jared’s history class is studying World War II and the teacher invited my 89-year-old grandfather to talk to two classes about his experience.
Now just to let you know, my grandfather never talked about the war for years. In fact it wasn’t until my son, his great-grandson, was in elementary school and my curious boy took an interest in World War II that my grandfather even opened up about his time serving our country.
After the class, I took my grandparents to lunch. I knew that it had been difficult for my grandfather, not just because he is nearly ninety years old, but because of the emotions and heartache attached to that very difficult time in his life. Yes, even as believers in Christ, we are not immune to pain and suffering.
During class, my grandfather talked about the two battle campaigns he served during his tour in Italy, his injury while riding a tank, how he was a radio man in the 88th Army Infantry Division – how he was told that he was dispensable, but the radio was not.
God in his infinite wisdom and plan saw my grandfather through. He came home, but many did not. What my Pappy did not say in class, my Nanna said at lunch. “You didn’t say how difficult it was to step over the dead bodies of your buddies.”
The moment my grandmother said those truthful words, tears slid down my dear grandfather’s face. He had been doing his best to hold back his emotions during class, however I saw his eyes fill up several times. So did mine. Now his tears fell unchecked as did mine.
“These things bring back painful memories.” My Pappy’s once strong hands shook as he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes then nose with a white hankie from his pocket.
“I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you, Pap.” I leaned in over the table so he could hear me better. “But, I do understand how difficult it is to talk about painful memories. I have to speak to two women’s groups next week about my testimony and share what happened when Gerry died. That hurts.”
I looked at both my loving grandparents sitting across the table from me. Their gray hair adorned their heads like crowns of glory. Wisdom from years of walking with the Lord etched the lines of their faces and the tenderness of their hearts. Their love and prayers to the God they love and serve, the Lord Jesus Christ, have been a constant source of strength in my life.
“Please pray for me next week.” I stood and walked around the table and squeezed my grandfather’s shoulders and kissed his cheek. “I love you Pap. Thank you for risking your life to keep us safe. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
The memory of this day is one that I will not forget…
My heart goes out and my prayers go up for all the families of those who are serving our country. Let freedom ring!
