“Mama, why was Jesus born at Christmas and dead by Easter?” I asked her when I was very young. I didn’t understand the concept of time; all I knew were the celebrations of his birth, and it felt like he was gone almost as soon as he arrived!
My mother explained as best she could to her daughter, who had the attention span of a flea. I am sure I was hopping to my next destination before she finished the story of Jesus.
I grew up attending Sunday School. Once I realized that Jesus lived for thirty-three years, it made me feel somewhat better, but also sad.
My grandmother – whom we affectionately called Grandpa – taught me that Jesus never truly died; rather, our eyes couldn’t see Him. She added, “We see Him in others, too.” It took me a few years to fully understand that, but I eventually did because I met Jesus through her.
She was a woman who never preached or taught with words. Instead, her daily actions demonstrated her faith, inspiring us.
A typical day for Grandpa began around 5 a.m. She would be in the kitchen, kneading biscuits and frying country ham in her old iron skillet. The coffee pot would be on the stove, filled with piping-hot, strong coffee.
Later, my children would head off to school with full stomachs but without the strong coffee.
Once everyone had left for work or school, Grandpa would clean the house and tend to her garden. When someone was sick or a grandchild came to visit, she would return to the kitchen to make a pie or banana pudding.
Lunch was usually a big meal that included cornbread, chicken, beans, corn, fresh tomatoes, and sometimes meat.
After lunch, you might find her adding the finishing touches to an embroidered pillowcase or crocheting the last part of an afghan—all of which she would give away to someone who needed a little cheer.
Grandpa taught me that giving brings more joy than keeping.
In the afternoon, she would load her car and drive to visit her mother and siblings, helping them with chores, doctor visits, or grocery shopping.
When the grandchildren visited, it was time to play. Grandpa set aside all other activities to spend time with them. Whenever any of us were present, the focus of the world shifted to us.
I learned that children are worth prioritizing over busyness and that taking time to play is important.
“Grandpa, why are we going to see Mrs. Harris today?” I asked.
Mrs. Harris was her best friend, and she had been ‘feeling poorly.’ I later understood that Grandpa had chosen to call her Mrs. Harris to teach all the children to respect their elders.
“We are taking Mrs. Harris her favorite pie. That’ll make her feel better.”
I realized that baking could heal people and that respect was essential.
At the end of a long day, I’m certain my grandmother was always exhausted. However, if I were there, she would lie in bed with me. She would gently tickle my back and tell me the stories of “Chicken Little” or “The Three Little Pigs.”
I now understand that there is always additional time to embrace a child with love.
At the end of each day, I can’t remember a night when she didn’t read her Bible before going to bed. She would sit in a straight-backed chair at the end of the hall and read God’s word under a dim light, careful not to disturb her sleeping husband.
“Grandpa, how many times have you read that whole Bible?” I asked.
“Shoot, I don’t know, but every time I read it, I learn somethin’ new!”
Grandpa lived for 97 years, and every day she walked with her Savior. She learned and taught the word through each act of kindness she joyfully gave away.
She was like Easter and Christmas wrapped in bows. Grandpa understood how to live a good life through simple means. It came from quiet, unscripted love.
Grandpa didn’t have a proud or egotistical bone in her body. She worked for Christ with the utmost purity and selflessness, embodying kindness like no one else I have ever known. I wish the world could see how effective such compassion truly is.
Winning people to faith is not achieved through mere words or decrees; it comes from how we choose to live our lives. It isn’t about politics, selfishness, or boasting. Instead, it’s about living in accordance with the teachings of the Bible.
Grandpa understood the words she read every night and believed wholeheartedly in their message.
Christ is alive and present in the compassion, heart, and humility of those who genuinely love Him and strive to embody His qualities.
Grandpa didn’t just believe in Christ. She showed me what He looks like.
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Lynn Walker Gendusa began her writing career as a columnist for the LaGrange News. Today, her essays are featured regularly throughout Georgia and Tennessee. Her work also appears in Guidepost, USA Today, The Atlanta Journal, MSN.com, among others. Lynn has authored two books; the latest, “Southern Comfort,” was published in 2022. She can be reached at www.lynngendusa.com. For more of her inspirational stories, click here.
