Dear Grandpa Jones,

Dear Grandpa Jones,

You were always a good storyteller. You took every opportunity to tell stories to us grand kids. In fact, you would tell stories to just about anyone who would listen. It didn't take much to get you started. Then once you started, it would often lead into about six more stories. Sometimes we giggled at that, but deep down we really did enjoy listening to you. Stories of your childhood, your life with Granny, raising six kids, working your way through medical school, becoming a doctor in Baldwin City Kansas, preaching the gospel, reaching out to people. Stories of love, stories of hardship, stories of grace - yes, grace. Always peppered with grace.

Hands down, my all time favorite story you told was how you met Granny. (I'm a romantic, what can I say?) You would always start the story with, "Edna and I met in the Dallas County Jail." That usually got everyone's attention. Then you would proceed to tell how you were there to preach and she was there to sing. You knew you wanted to marry her the moment you saw her. She fainted that day. It was due to the heat, not necessarily your charm (too bad - that would have made for a fun story!)

Then there is the story of your salvation. How as a 18 year-old in the Navy, someone from the Navigators shared with you the good news of the gospel. You accepted it. You embraced it. For the first time in your life, you had a Father who loved you. It changed your life. You, in turn, sought out to change the lives of others in the same way.

The stories of you and Granny raising your six kids always entertain me. Then hearing my father and my aunt and uncles re-tell those stories from their perspective is a hoot. Mischief and the resulting spankings, money getting tight, family devotions around the kitchen table - some stories make us laugh while some cause us to learn. (Teach and Tickle moments, you might say.)

I miss your stories Grandpa.

You've been in and out of hospital beds for three months now. It came as a shock to all of us. Three months ago, you were in nearly perfect health. In fact, you saw patients that morning in your clinic. Then you went home for lunch and... boom, you end up in the ER. They tell us it was a subdural hemorrhage. Surgeries, a trach, feeding tubes, and all kinds of equipment put a halt to your stories. You still offer us your huge smile, hugs, winks, waves and plenty of kisses for Granny. But the stories have stopped.

Nowadays we listen to stories from others. We listen to all the visitors who come and wish you the best. We listen to the doctors who sometimes offer little hope. We listen to your former patients who praise the way you took care of them. We savor the way your daughter Ruthie summarizes each day on your Caring Bridge site. We listen to the nurses who worked along side you over the years in the hospital. They compliment your history of loving your patients. They compliment your spunk, your skill, and even your clothing style (always wearing a starched shirt and tie with your shiny black shoes! They obviously even noticed the little things.)

Most of all, we take comfort in the stories of the Bible. Stories of hope, grace, peace, rest and eternal life. Stories of His sovereignty in all things. Stories we know you treasured more than any others.

More than anything, Grandpa, we want to hear you tell stories again. But there is a great Story-writer in heaven who may have other plans. Whether it be today or two years from now, someday you will walk into His presence. He'll put his arm around your shoulder as you walk and talk. You won't need your hearing aid. You won't have to read lips. I can just imagine Him pulling you aside and saying "let me tell you some stories about one of my good and faithful servants."

You'll blush when you realize He's telling stories about you.

We'll keep telling those stories too.

I love you, Grandpa!

Kelly

Granny and Grandpa at their 60th Wedding Anniversary one year ago.

Granny and Grandpa (in the center) with all the kids, grandkids and great-grandkids.