From Generation to Generation

April 18th, I won't ever forget the date. It was my mother's father's birthday and also her husband's birthday. That would mean it was both my dad's and my grandfather's birthdays. I remember thinking that was a pretty cool phenomena. My grandfather died when I was in college so he has been in heaven for many years now. I remember him well though. I loved him so much. I liked to shadow him when I was a child. We lived down the road a bit in the next house. I would walk over early on summer mornings and just follow him around all day like a puppy, watching his ways and yearning for his coffee times. I knew that coffee time would bring a favorite refreshment. They were cookie sandwiches. Yep, my grandfather put cookies between two pieces of buttered white bread. Believe it or not, they were delicious. When Grandpa's watch showed nine o'clock, I picture us walking to the house and entering the back door where he plunked himself on one of the steps up into the house. I plunked next to him. He would then opened his thermos of coffee and pour the steaming sweetened mixture into the cup. He would yell for Grandma to bring a cup. Cup received, he poured a half cup for me. As he opened His sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, he would offer me the first.. Yum. I can still smell the coffee and the smell of a hard working loving man taking time to make memories with a tagalong. When I grew a bit older and he did too, he developed diabetes and that was the end of our cookie sandwich coffee treats. Twas fun while it lasted!
So now today. Like I wrote a few days ago, my dad celebrates his 87th birthday today. Once I got to work this morning, I called to wish him the best. These birthdays get more precious each year. I wonder what percentage of people live to see their 87th birthday. My hunch is that it isn't very high. It isn't like my dad has not seen illness. When he was 15 and again when he was 26, he suffered brain hemorages. He tells that he didn't go to school for a very long time when he was sick the first time. I was around the second time. I was five years old and my mother was pregnant with my brother. My dad was driving home from visiting his parents. When he got about a block from home he began to convulse. He mananged to get home and in the house. I remember my dad lying in bed very sick. Because of his convulsions he had biten his tongue nearly in half. We had no telephone to call for help. My mother gave my dad a clothes pen to chew hoping to quell the damage to his tongue. Then she went to the other side of the house to the back door. I can still see her there, looking totally helpless. She screamed, "Susie! Susie!" Susie was the next door neighbor but next door was approximately a city block's distance away. Susie didn't hear my mother's plea for help, but there was an older gentleman from our church who did. Ed De Vries's habit was to drive slowly down the road and if he saw someone he knew coming the opposite way he would slow to a stop. The other driver would stop as well and with windows rolled down, they would visit until another car came down the road. This particular evening he was visiting on the road between our house and Susie's house. He heard the cry for help and came to our door. He then went to town to get Bruce Todd, the local undertaker, who also drove the local ambulance. Ed went to my father's parents and alerted them so it wasn't long before the house was filled with concerned relatives. The mood was somber and quiet. As a little five year old, I sensed the seriousness of the situation. I've been told the nurses talked my dad through the night, reminding him that he had much for which to live. He spent eight days in the hospital. I recall walking up those big steps into the hospital to visit hima time or two. When he was allowed to come home, he was brought by ambulance because he was terribly weak. Our house was rather new, my parents had built it when they married so it was probably six or seven years old. Since country homes are generally entered through a back door, often times, front steps were something that remained vacant on country homes. To that point our house was one of those. The ambulance was backed up to the house and the door was opened to bring in my dad. My paternal grandfather was there and I remember him saying to my dad, "Jimmy, put your arms around my neck and hang on". I think that was the only time I heard my grandfather call his son, Jimmy. It struck me then that there was love in that nickname. He was grateful to still have his son. I am grateful to still have my dad. I've seen him through that dark time and a few since then. One of those was when we together watched my mother fade away with cancer. We were together a lot during that time. I think I was his strength and he was mine. Of course, our heavenly Father brought us through that terribly painful time. As I remember some of the painful times, I'm reminded of the gratitude I have for the faithfulness of a God that sees us through those times. He tells us that he carries like we would be carried on the wings of eagles. Yes, even soaring about those things that seem unbearable. My dad testifies to a wonderful life. He is so grateful for his strength and health. He is grateful for his family and for the joy he experiences in watching the generations following him. He also has a great appreciation for the generations before him. He is a blessed man and today we give thanks to God for giving him another birthday.