Today, the last day of 2009, I am reminded of Gram's husband - my foster dad, whom I affectionately called "Grampy". Today, December 31, is Grampy's birthday. He was born on his own mother's birthday in 1912. Grampy passed away on November 26, 1995, yet his life and his words live on in many hearts. Today, as I reflect on this past year, and look toward the new year, I would like to write some thoughts I have about my dear old "Grampy".
Grampy was a preacher and a minister for over fifty years. His passion and zeal for the Lord was only matched by his compassion and love for God's people - both the saved and the unsaved. He was a man's man, loved the outdoors. As a child, I would spend hours with him on his tractor - I would sit in the bucket in the back as he moved rocks and filled in the marsh out behind the house. During those times, we didn't speak - we didn't have to. It was enough for me to be with him, loving every moment. I still remember the day when he told me I could call him "Grampy". Because I was his foster child, I knew I didn't have the right to be a part of his family, but he gave me the right.
Life as a foster child is a lonely sort of life, especially when your parents just give you away. My mother had been approached at least once in my childhood to let me go for adoption, but for some reason, she refused, though she never visited me, or even called or wrote. I lived at the home for girls until the age of seven, but people in my school would always call it "the orphanage". When I told them my parents weren't dead, they would ask why my parents didn't want me. I could never answer that. Mothers' and Fathers' Days would come and go, and I would guiltily hide the homemade cards I would make at church because they were for "Mrs." and "Mr.", not mom and dad. I heard about someone who had a "face only a mother could love", and that cemented in my mind that my face was even uglier than that because my mother didn't even want to see it. It was hard. I used to think that if I was adopted, I could at least pretend that I really and truly belonged to a family instead of seeming like a ghost child who needed to go to a sitter's when my foster family had an appointment for a family group photo. When my father died, I was not mentioned as his child in his obituary. When Grampy died, I was not mentioned as his grandchild in his obituary. In my immature grasp of life, I felt I belonged to no one, and no one belonged to me.
As I look back on Grampy's life, I realize that all who came into his presence felt that they were very important to him. All of my feelings of insignificance just melted away as he would swoop me up into his arms after preaching as a substitute in an unknown congregation, and he would bellow, "THIS is Elizabeth! She came to us when she was eight months old, and we've loved her ever since!" What an introduction - I felt better than family at those times. Grampy chose to be my "daddy". He could have walked away, and had a very good opportunity to do so shortly after my sisters and I were dropped off at the home for girls, because my parents were not paying any support for us. Instead, he told the board of directors, "If they go, I go", and worked out a payment system out of his own pocket to keep us with him, and each other.
So today, as I remember Grampy's birthday, and celebrate his memory, I recall the benediction he used often at the end of his church services. Yes, it is a benediction, fit for closing out this year, but it is also a prayer for 2010, and my prayer for my children, my loved ones, and friends.
"The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace." (Numbers 6:24 - 26)
"Dear Heavenly, Holy Father, thank you for your comfort and your love throughout our lives. Thank you also for the showers of rain that you send to parched, thirsty souls, as clouds loom overhead. Thank you for the gift of my Gram and Grampy, who showed me that love can bloom in spectacular flower gardens, planted in the shade of majestic family trees, and that both trees and flowers are blessed with the same Living Water from the Father of us all.
Amen"
