My first vivid memory of my grandfather took place in a small country church in a close community of family and friends. The teaching of faith and humanity began the impressions of my childhood. Sitting there tucked in next to my grandmother chewing Wrigley’s Spearmint gum, I listened for the first time, fascinated by the hope and love I read in my grandfather’s face.
Many summers were spent with my grandparents. My cousins and I had many wonderful times playing in the homes that my grandparents called their own. We had lots of friends in the church and always had someone visiting. I made many trips with my grandfather to these same people when they were sick, hurting, or just needed his ear. My favorite day of the week was Sunday. My grandfather in his suit with the leather patches on his elbows and his cowboy boots (after all this is Texas) and my grandmother in one of her many dresses. After church there was always a dinner invitation and wonderful meal. Sunday nights would find most of us children curled up on a wooden pew while our grandfather’s words and “amen’s” hung in the air.
I find as an adult my grandfather’s instructions still have a way of centering me. If I have a burning question I got to my grandfather. Advice? He is the first person I call. Through my many road blocks and life struggles; I still seek the message of hope and love that I found so long ago, in my grandfather’s eyes that first Sunday morning
this is actually and exerpt from an english paper I had to write. I found that it was good blog material and will show another layer that is Marie. This is a poor representation to where I am now in my faith, but, I do feel this way about this man and I hope in the future I can get back to that place in my faith.