Christmas Joy

by Candace Beane

Grandpa never told me about any of his Christmas’ that he experienced as a child, but I cannot be sure that they held any happiness, and if they did, it was very short-lived. I also believe the years he lived through the depression played a significant part in his ever-grateful spirit. 

There is one Christmas that I remember most fondly. That Christmas made my heart nearly burst with pure joy and fulfillment. Grandpa was still with us then. And I remember that I kept seeing things that reminded me of him, and I felt the need to buy them! I do not remember all of them, but one of them was an “Old Timers Emergency Kit” hat! Some gifts were comical, some were useful, and others just came from the heart. We wrapped them with love and giggles and placed them under the tree. Christmas could not come fast enough! 

The day finally came! As we started handing out gifts and as all the bright packages were pleasantly burying our family, Grandpa seemed to enjoy things until everyone had gotten their gifts, but we were still bringing him ribboned boxes and cheerful bags just for him. His demeanor quickly changed, and his face became red; he seemed overwhelmed by the volume of gifts. As he opened box after box, tears crept down his cheeks, “Why did you guys get me all these?” he almost whispered. The answer was simple, love. How can you repay the time given and spent laughing, talking, and just being together? How can you repay the care provided and lessons taught? You cannot, but you can give from your heart to say, “thank you!” 

Receiving on Christmas day is a lovely thing, but it feels like you can never get enough—it is never truly satisfying. But when you give a gift—that’s different! Then it feels like you can never give enough! Yet it is so satisfying to give to the people you love, to watch them open what you have chosen or made for them, and to show them your love and thanks for them being a part of your life—it’s just a fantastic feeling! 

Christ was the very first gift of Christmas. God gave out of a heart of love. Without the precious gift of Christ, given to us out of the love of the God of Heaven and Earth, none of us could experience the amazing, genuine joy that comes through salvation. I know Grandpa’s start in life was difficult, but when he finally opened his heart to the Saviour, he could then enjoy the true joys of Christmas.

The Future’s Construction

by Candace Beane

I am convinced that God gives us special people in our lives to rescue us, and my hero was my Grandpa Oliver. Even though he died as poor as he came into this world, he didn’t die without investments in eternity! He wasn’t a preacher, but he helped many by just walking alongside them. He didn’t have teeth, but he had a contagious joy. And he didn’t have a spotless past, but he brightened the future for countless others. When I was young, he was my entire world.  

I have already shared three earlier writings from around the time he passed. This is another journal from around that time. It speaks of a great loss that my grandpa himself went through. Losing a son. 

The Future’s Construction 

            Rain had not fallen since Monday, and the forecast for the rest of the week appeared clear. Delighted with the pleasant cooperation of the elements, three generations of men ascended weatherworn rungs to their occupational task. Balancing on corrupt shingles and bare planks, Freddy and Leon discussed the remedy for the dilapidated rooftop; as Paul stood agilely on the peak, Teddy poised himself on the roof’s slope, both soaking up the beams of the sun. Teddy looked lovingly on his powerful father and short yet sturdy grandfather — he loved them so much! Paul glanced over at his older brother and followed his gaze to the two men, 

“Whatcha thinking, Teddy?”  

            Teddy, turning his head slightly, without taking his eyes off of the planning duo, “Just thinking about the future, and how Dad is gonna need someone to take care of him when he gets up in age.”

            Silence fell. Both boys were deep in thought; Paul broke the silence, “It’s hard to imagine him getting older, but I guess we will all just pitch in to take care of him.”

Almost too eager to get the words out, Teddy stated, “I’ll be the one to take care of him, I’ll make sure that he and mom are happy and well looked after!”

            That night after the day’s work was over and the crew had retired to their beds, Teddy’s brain tumor caused yet another devastating seizure that ravished his body! All construction ceased as the lives of the men were wholly wrapped up in the concern for Teddy. The rain beat hard upon the hospital’s windows, as the youth that had constructed his future around the care of his one day, aged father, lay in a hospital bed fighting for his own future! Unfortunately, several months later, he lost that battle! 

            The rain had ceased, but the beating sound of only three hammers created a dreary melody that caused the hammer holder’s heart to ache and their eyes to well up with tears. The only consolation that kept their tears at bay was the promise of their heavenly reunion. 

The Love of Toast

by Candace Beane

The covers enveloped the tiny frame, with only a few curls peeking out. As the rays of the sun began to shine, they quietly crept into the little girl’s room. By eight o’clock, the rays had reached the very top of her comforter and began to beam with all their might, trying to rouse her. The sun’s rays shined brighter as they met with success—she awoke! She tossed aside the covers, yawned, stretched, and tumbled out of bed. Once out of bed, she popped awake and scampered down the hall to the adjoining apartment. The little girl pushed open the separating door and tiptoed to the kitchen. As she peeked around the buffet, she saw her tall, admirable grandfather. He knew she was there, but he let her think she was sneaky. She continued to inch closer and closer until she felt she was close enough to pounce. Just as she leaped for his leg, he spun around and caught her in a huge hug! She squealed with laughter as he hugged her tightly. He loved her, and she loved him, as much as her young heart could.

            She had come in time for breakfast. But she did not come for the nourishment; she wished only to be near her Grandpa. Their bountiful fare was toast with coffee. In preparation, he opened and placed the Clown bread into the toaster, as they waited for the ‘pop’ of the toaster he poured and mixed his coffee, which he would share. The aged toasting appliance had a unique method of operating, causing both pieces to blacken on one side, but the other to toast only slightly. The moment the crisp bread exploded from the appliance, the curly-headed girl dashed to it and stood on her tiptoes to watch her beloved grandfather put the finishing touches on their cuisine. He always allowed her to pick which piece she desired; she examined which of the two was less burned. The aged man placed the two plated pieces on the nearby round table and gave her a choice; she selfishly chose the better of the two.

            As time went by, this routine continued with little variation, the grandfather remained unselfish in his giving, and the granddaughter got what she perceived to be the better of the two pieces of toast. One day as they sat and ate, she glanced at the bottom of her toast and realized that the underside of here toast was just as burnt as the top of her grandpa’s piece! At that moment, the child realized this whole time her grandpa had deliberately placed one piece with the burnt side down and buttered it and placed the other with the burnt side up and buttered it. The little girl looked at her still munching grandpa and cherished that he loved her even though he knew she was selfish. 

The grandfather loved his granddaughter just as our Savior loves us, despite our shortcomings. “We love Him, because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

Mabel’s Asset

by Candace Beane

I love horses! My Grandpa grew up around them. One of our customary entertainments was to watch horse racing on TV. I do not condone, nor do I take part in horse racing; but this story is a humorous mix of my memories with my Grandpa.

Aubrey laid a comforting hand against Mabel’s Asset’s trembling neck. She felt her mounts trepidation because she experienced the same. The odds were against them with a slim chance for success, but she had no other choice, her desired to win was strong, and they had trained for too long. The last female jockey to win the Breeders Cup was in 1981, and only three fillies had ever won the Kentucky Derby, they had to prove they could do this! Mabel, at the command of her master, began to side-step toward the starting gate. She wanted to run back to her comfortable and familiar stall, but now there was no turning back. Crammed roughly into the tiny starting gate, Mabel saw the husky stallions on either side of her, she reared at the opposing threats! Aubrey reached out to stroke Mabel’s neck once more, as she whispered, “You’re ready for this Mabel, I know you are! Remember your training.” With those words, Mabel refocused, set her eyes on the track ahead, and determined nothing less than victory.

As the announcer rattled off the racer’s names and their mounts, Aubrey and Mabel readied themselves. BRRRRING! As the dozen muscular bodies propelled themselves out of the gate and on to the track, they fought for a position at the rail. Mabel settled into the middle content to wait until the last bend, yet many others wasted energy squabbling over the lead. As they flew by poles and markers, Aubrey reflected on the grand successes that had brought her and Mabel’s Asset this far. And she remembered what opposing probabilities they had fought and conquered. The air of another rider rocketing past brought Aubrey back to the race - the last bend was approaching! Now was the time for action. Aubrey elevated herself in her saddle to signal Mabel that it was time. Mabel responded with a burst of speed. As Mabel elongated her stride, she passed the two Thoroughbreds in front of her. But she still had the two aggressive leaders to overcome. With every thundering beat, Mabel closed the gap between her and her rivals until she was directly behind the second-place stallion. With only ten lengths left Mabel pulled from the rail once more to pass her remaining obstacles. Aubrey no longer had to ask of Mabel; this was her breeding and training - this was Mabel’s race! Her nostrils flared with greed to feed her hungry lungs, and her heart beat out the demand for more speed! She pulled up alongside the leading stallion, with a single length remaining. Aubrey leaned in close, and Mabel stretched out her neck as they crossed the finish line. Exhausted, Aubrey and Mabel’s Asset waited with fearful anticipation for the results.

The announcer’s voice boomed the success of Mabel’s Assetacrossthe track! “Ladies and gentlemen, it has been since 1915 that a filly has won the Kentucky Derby!”

Aubrey and Mabel bounced toward the winner’s circle. Aubrey came within sight of her trophy and Mabel’s flowered swag. She could imagine the smell of the flowers, but her mount halted and refused to move. Aubrey, looking up and with a cry of complaint exclaimed, “Grandpa, don’t stop now! I was nearly there!”

Grudgingly, the elderly man switched her to his other knee.

The Journey

by Candace Beane

Crafted in the hand of God, we are different. He created us with emotions, to experience happiness, love, and sorrow. Even deeper still, He gave us the gift of experiencing these emotions with others, and each relationship has a different level of intimacy. The bond we share in these relationships can be the most blessed experience we may ever have. When a couple marries, when a mother holds her newborn baby, when a grandparent watches their grandchildren play, these relationships (and so many more) are a precious gift from God. 

But because we live in a fallen world cursed by sin, these blessed moments shared in love and happiness do not go unmarred. Sorrows come, and we must say “goodbye” to the ones we love. And at this point that each person must go through their grieving journey. It is a lifelong journey, for we are never the same once we have lost a loved one or a dear friend. The hurt remains, not as sharp as in the beginning, but it remains, year after year.  

I know little of loss and grief. Many have suffered infinitely deeper than I, yet I would still like to take you on my journey of grieving. And perhaps reading these stories will help as you walk along with me, knowing that you are not alone as you take your journey. My journey began in 2011 when God called Fredrick Joseph Oliver home to Glory. 

I am convinced that God gives us special people in our lives to rescue us, and my hero was my Grandpa Oliver. Even though he died as poor as he came into this world, he didn’t die without investments in eternity! He wasn’t a preacher, but he helped many by just walking alongside them. He didn’t have teeth, but he had a contagious joy. And he didn’t have a spotless past, but he brightened the future for countless others. When I was young, he was my entire world.  

I will begin by sharing three earlier writings from around the time he passed. And then share with you what I believe the Lord has laid on my heart to do—Children’s character-building stories. I read a quote recently, “Be the things you love most about the people who are gone,” (author unknown). My Grandpa loved pouring his life into us kids, not just his grandkids but his church grandkids. In that way, my grandpa was shining like Jesus, because Jesus loves the little children.  

In the Garden of Memories

This story started my journey; it allowed me to grieve through a median I enjoyed. Remembering my Grandpa through writing helped me realize that crying was not the only way to grieve. I could now share with others this wonderful man who they would only meet on the other side of Glory.   

CHOMP! The little girl kidnapped another carrot to fatten the by-standing Thoroughbred. The grandfather beamed as the curly golden locks bounced with the child from row to row as she searched for her next victim. The dark bay nickered with anticipation as the child came skipping back to him. Feeling left out, the chickens started squawking with impatience. They wanted the rotten fruits the youth had promised them. She, realizing this, left the still chomping gelding to appease the squabbling hens. Dancing towards the racket with her tiny arms laden with oozing vegetation; she attempted to hurl them over the towering fence with little success. Why did not it work? She had watched her grandfather toss many a tomato over that very fence with ease. As she looked at her strong hero, she welled up with all the pride her little heart could muster! She, snatching one of the offending fruits, began to run towards her pride-and-joy. Halfway to him, she tripped on a protruding vine and fell to the ground, her little hand crashed into a pile of thorns! Her screams of pain frightened the old man! He dropped his gardening hoe and rushed to her rescue! Once there, he took her on his knee and placed her wounded hand into his gentle hand. He drew out the tiny thorns and lovingly kissed her hand. She looked through her tears into his stalwart, wrinkled face; what would she ever do without him? After a gentle embrace, he hobbled back to his gardening hoe; and she, forgetting about her earlier intent, returned to her chickens. Her little girlish mind wandered to the future. She saw him sitting in the audience at her wedding and later with her little girl on his knee. In her mind, he stayed the same, never aging. She spun around to ask him if he would come to her wedding; but when she did, he was gone. Her little mind raced. Why was he gone? Where did he go? In her heart, she knew the answer; he had grown old, and he was gone to the perfect Garden where no thorns grow.