I turned fourteen years old a few weeks before Grandpa Twedt died. Grandpa loved little children, and I remember telling some of the younger cousins how he’s used the long arms on his six-foot four-inch frame to make a swing between his legs and would swing the toddlers and sing, “Loo, loo, loo, loo” and how they’d giggle; he’d smile and keep swinging.
When my late husband passed away, we began to keep his memory alive by sharing stories with our grandchildren about things they had done together when they were too little to remember. I gave them little items that belonged to their grandpa, such as a billfold and a wooden marble game. Now, I’m glad I took so many pictures of Grandpa and his grandkids together to share with them.
We are blessed to read about grandfathers in the Bible, such as Abraham, who was the “father” of many nations. Imagine how many grandchildren and great-grandchildren he could account for and the stories handed down and told today. My favorite is when Abraham was when God asked him to use his own son, Isaac as a burned offering, but an angel of the Lord intervened, “Do not lay a hand on the boy …” and Abraham pulled the knife away and sacrificed a ram caught in some bushes instead. Scary, yes, but the story had a great ending.
We give you thanks, Lord, for stories that keep alive the memory of loved ones. Amen.