A Gift

My grandfather has been ill most of my life, struggling with various health problems. Living away, there have been many times where I’ve missed seeing and participating in the good days, the good months, the good years. But, on a recent trip home, I and my family were given a gift.

Sitting in a welcoming church, the pew I sit in has held many over the years. These pews were the ones my parents grew up in, though they are padded now. I know the smell, the sound of feet on the floor, the shoe and wood meeting. The pulpit has a familiar look to it. My grandfather preached here, loving the people that were part of his flock. He prayed for them, worked with them, grew them. But, for years he has been primarily home bound.

Coming in for the trip, I was pleased to see my family, my grandparents. We spent time with them at their home and then at a family brunch. I didn’t think that we would see them again that next day, after all that much activity would most likely be too tiring.

But, here I was singing, the hymnal open in front of me, watching the singers in front of me. One of these was my Aunt Tess, who I saw burst into tears. What caused that? What was going on? Following her gaze, I found myself turning around and watching my grandparents walk into the church. I could feel the tears hit the back of my own eyes at that point. What a gift it was to be able to have them there, to see them again in that place. I enjoyed singing with my family, but I really was given a gift to be able to sing with my family to both sets of my grandparents.