11.06.06

Sunrise - Sunset; A Spitfire and A Gentle Ben

Posted in Uncategorized at 12:07 am by Bill Williams

by Bill Williams

 One of my favorite people that I’ve actually never had the privilege to meet is a fellow-blogger named Kathy. I know that some of the readers of Grace Notes have visited her blog: beauangel’s world. If her blog is new to you I hope that you will visit her often. Kathy is a loving, gracious and very wise person. I am certain that you’ll be blessed each time you stop by.

A recent post at beauangel’s world caught my eye. It seemed like something that would fit very well here at Grace Notes. I asked for and received Kathy’s permission to post it here. Please overlook the first couple of sentences. It really isn’t my intention to call attention to my post. Instead, I hope you will be amazed, as I was, by the two precious souls Kathy writes about. They are two people whose lives seem to epitomize the whole idea behind Grace Notes Ministries.

Now, read and enjoy…

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 Our dear brother in Him, Bill - wrote a beautiful entry on his blog regarding senior citizen believers - drawing a lovely allegory between them and gorgeous sunsets. That entry prompted the following.

We who are living those sunsets of life also are aware of the sailors’ weather prognostication ditty:

“Red in the morning, sailor - take warning!
But,

Red at night, is a sailor’s delight!”

My only grandparents [paternal] weathered 60+ years of a Sunrise-Sunset marriage.

My grandmother was the red sunrise of impending storms. She had a gargantuan-sized temper and spirit housed in a mirage; appearing 6 feet tall, when in reality she was 4′9". She didn’t give into the sunset time of life until she reached 103 years. At that age, In October 1989 she called her kids and all the grandkids, she could find to make her announcement. [She missed calling most of her great and great-great grandkids]

"I’m going home to Jesus tonight, so wanted to tell you goodbye."

She then bathed, washed her hair, applied makeup, donned her prettiest lacy nightgown and bed jacket, laid down to sleep and went home to Jesus.

As a young bride she "converted" from the Methodist church to the Church of Christ. It was over a century ago, at the very beginning of the baby 20th century. The local Methodists didn’t take to her treason. They tried her for heresy. We have giggled about my sassy grandma being tried for anything. Who would dare do such a thing, braving her famous temper? LOL

She was the only person I’ve ever known that could attack a rocking chair, especially when she propelled herself out of one, seemingly being rocketed up to 10 feet in the air - to land on her feet halfway across the room. It was not unusual for the heavy wooden rocking chair to travel backwards, somersaulting into the opposite corner of the room when she decided to leave its confines.

My grandfather on the other hand, was the serene sunset - never raising his rich, deep bass voice to a living soul, only in praise and prayer to his LORD. I thought he was Santa with his pure white hair, sparkling blue eyes, and little round belly that actually did jiggled like a bowl full of jelly.

He loved his family, especially his grandkids. I was his "Kat". My happiest times were riding with my grandad on his horse-drawn buggy as he made his rounds as the rural postman. He had a car, but didn’t really trust it, preferring the quiet meditative time in the buggy.

My grandad lived the sunset all his life. He was gentle, always arising just before sunrise and sound asleep right at sunset. He attended to their farm animals, the large vegetable gardens, bringing their harvest to my grandmother, who in turn filled their storm cellar with row upon row of her home canned veggies and fruits from their fields, as well as salted meats.

Well, I should say he lived the sunset MOST of his life. One New Year’s Eve I made my traditional call to them to wish them a Happy New Year. It really had always been a call to my grandmother because my grandad would already be asleep. But this night, she was in a full snit.

"That old man in there won’t go to bed. Ever since the television came into this house I don’t have anytime to myself, [meaning no time to have her daily dip of snuff.] That old man won’t turn the dern thing off and GO TO BED!"

She always held to the fantasy that my grandad knew nothing of her snuff habit. No matter that he bought it, hid it in her secret hiding place and never said another word about it, and she never questioned the fact her snuff stash never seemed to dwindle. What does that remind us of, I wonder? They were so dear!!

Sunday mornings my grandad was in white shirt and tie, dress pants and fedora. Bible under his arm he’d take off early in the buggy, leaving us to arrive much later in the car. His was a quiet committed love of God and he lived a grace-filled life with seemingly no effort - it was just him - just his way.

His last days on earth were spent in semi-awareness - in almost a walking coma. But to the day of his death, he got up from bed, came to the supper table, and gave thanks to God and my grandmother for the meal. He’d move the food around on his plate, touching his lips with maybe a morsel or two of food. After dessert he’d then fold his napkin, and as was his lifetime habit, he’d reach out to the meat platter, take a sliver of meat, eat it, bow his head again thanking God for the delicious meal and my grandmother for preparing it, then he would return to his bed.

That last day, Fathers’ Day 1960, the doctor called us into his room to say goodbye. My grandmother went to the far side of the bed, took his hand, reached down to his beautiful face and whispered her love for her life partner. He looked at her, half raising his head toward her saying, "I’ve always loved you, Molly!" - laid his head back on the pillow and slipped into the arms of Jesus. In that moment of farewell they seemed to return to their youth. I witnessed a 16-year old bride lovingly kissing her 23-year old groom goodbye. It was one of the most precious moments in my life.

I’ve been so blessed by their example and dedication to their God - Molly and Hub - she a spitfire first generation Dutch, he a hard working, God-loving gentle Ben from Spur, Texas.
My beloved and sorely missed - Sunrise-Sunset grandparents.

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Originally posted at: beauangel’s world

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