PRECIOUS MOMENTS WITH MY PAPPA
I sit in my office staring out the window at the rain beating softly against the pane and I am a three years old again, running alongside my grand papa as he closely inspects the fruit trees in our orchard. I gaze up into papa’s eyes and see him knit together his eyebrows as he snaps twigs and branches and runs the soil through his hands checking on things way beyond the understanding of a three year old. My papa is never too busy to gather me into his strong arms and explain what he’s doing for the millionth time. The fresh scent of plums ripening, hanging dewy fresh all purplish red and juicy. Our plums were by far the best, papa would carefully break of a plum that was just right, rubbing it against his shirt to clean it before letting me sink my little teeth into it, sticky plum juice clinging to my cheeks, he would laugh his special throaty chuckle and then wipe my mouth with his crisp white handkerchief that smelled of fresh flowers and lots of love.
Papa was a very busy man who never failed to make time for things that were important to him, like his family. He worked in the police force and was a marvellous lawman and community leader and it seemed that there was always someone at the farm wanting papa’s advice about something or the other. I would peep through the crack of the dining room door and wonder when exactly my papa would be finished with his endless meetings with people at all times of the day or night that my papa was home, it was enough to cause much frustration to my little heart, since I had a list of things that I needed my papa for. What I saw instead was that he seemed to have a little bit of himself to give away to everybody that needed him. Mom would scoop me up and nestle me under her arm as she tucked me in bed and said “bedtime for you my girl, your papa is busy and will come to say goodnight to you as soon as he’s finished.” My gran would pop into the room and offer to tell me a bedtime story, which became way more than one story until my mom called it a night.
Mom and Dad lived together with my grandparents on their beautiful sprawling farm, when mom married dad my grandparents insisted that they stay together as papa loved to have his family close and the arrangement suited my parents fine. Papa and granny led church meetings on their farm and later at the church that was started. Their church meetings which we all attended were of utmost importance to them, where they counselled people and prayed over the various problems that people encountered Their raw faith in a God that never fails carried them through numerous hard times that fell on them through the years. Through it all they never doubted that God was their refuge and strength and that all things do work together for those that love God. I often sat between my darling grandparents at services, birthday parties, weddings or get togethers of some sort that seem to roll around often since my grandparents were invited to all of the functions that their congregants held. They did not wish to offend people by saying that sometimes they would have preferred to relax at home on a Saturday afternoon. No, instead they showed the love of Jesus to those who knew them, selflessly giving of themselves. Papa worked tirelessly, full time at his job as a policeman and then at the running of the farm as well as his ministry work in the evenings with granny beside him offering all her support by accompanying him in his ministry work and keeping the home fires burning.
My daddy is papa’s oldest son, I then have my aunt who is younger than my dad and lastly it is my dad’s baby brother. I am jolted back to the present, by my husband who brings me a steaming cup of much needed coffee as we sit together. He knows my thoughts are of my papa right now, since he is in the hospital slowly losing his battle to live at 83 years old. He is tired of the struggle to live, depressed about losing his right leg and not being able to get around as easily as he used to. Papa was used to still making his long distance visits to relatives over 1200km’s away, driving all by himself. Now in his eighties and the picture of vibrance he started getting a series of sharp pains in his foot and the colour in his foot looked rather bluish grey. Doctors ruled out that the arteries in his foot and calf were’nt working as efficiently as they should have, causing extreme pain in both. I had never seen papa look so drawn the day my husband and our kids together with the rest of the family met at the hospital to discuss if there was anything that could be done for him short of amputating his leg.
The doctor explained that he was too old for surgery and it was a better option to amputate. My husband and I were deadly against papa losing his leg, we so wanted to stand on the promises of God to heal him. To this day I wish we did’nt listen to that doctor because pap was never the same after the amputation. Dark shadows under his eyes were a norm for papa, drastic weight loss, my strong, strappy papa had become a shadow of his former self and it seemed all he wanted, was to go home to the Lord. I tried sitting with him, my husband and I tried to see him more often as he lived at least 80km from us. Often we would spend long hours just talking with him about his life, collecting all the relevant information I needed for the book I was writing on him. My wonderful gran had since passed on 8 years before and papa had’nt quite settled in after her death. He excitedly spoke about how thrilled he would be to see her again and that he was far too tired of waiting, he needed to go on home to the Lord. How I treasure those times I sat there holding hand or stroking his forehead as he spoke of things and times that were special to him or of hard times that befell him and his family, of turbulence in his ministry and yes of his God. He so loved the Lord.
On Tuesday the 17th November 2009 at 17.45pm with both my parents and my cousin beside his bed he went home to be with Jesus. I felt like part of my heart had been ripped out, I so wanted him to live and angrily swallowed down each time somebody said “ at least he had, had a good life, 83 years old.” I knew in my heart that was true and I had promised him I would be strong and never bitter because like he said “God is good” I have since learned that yes indeed our God is good. In my heart a part of me knew that papa could not live for ever, I knew I would see him again but that did’nt heal the ache that formed in my heart. I remember a particular moment with much tenderness as papa said he had something to tell me. I moved closer to him to hear what it was, it was his desire for us to carry on the work of Jesus, and to never let go of the promises of God. He encouraged me to continue to let people meet in our home without counting the cost or sacrifice it took to do that. Papa stressed that we should always remember that our home is God’s home. So close to dying and still his heart was with his congregants, for he cautioned us to never desert the poor and downtrodden, to never have Christmas lunch just as a family, certainly nothing wrong with that. its just been papa’s way to always have someone that was alone or needy have Christmas lunch with us. I cannot remember a time when it was just us as a family at the table for Christmas.
Looking into his bushy grey brows as his searching gaze found mine I wiped away the tears that were streaming down both his and my cheeks as I held his tawny, hardworking hands in mine. Now just skin and bone in mine, I promised him that I would continue to serve my God and oneday when I too am old and grey and lay dying on my bed my grand-daughter will make the same promise to me. Papa you have left a rich heritage to me, in the wonderful family you have left behind, in the love of an amazing father and a wonderful mother that grew to love you like her own father. In the husband who you have grown to love and be so proud of for his love for God, in the good counsel he sought from you, on how he too could lead his family with the zeal that you had, for this God that never failed you, in the spirit of joyfulness of our two kids, in the likeness of my dad’s mannerisms and speech, bathed in the love of the children you left behind. Yes papa, you scolded me and said I have to let you go but what you did’nt realise is that, I have never let you go, for in my heart there’s a place that will forever be reserved for you. As each day rolls into another, I too arise early in the morning for my appointment with my God. You know what papa? You were right, this is certainly a God that never fails.
I have a picture somewhere in my head of two people strolling hand in hand in a beautiful garden, of the wind blowing gently through my grandma’s hair as she leans against the broad shoulders of my once again big strong papa. I know, heaven has two of my biggest supporters, who are rooting for me from their new home, where there is no pain, sickness nor sorrow. Your counsel mean’nt more to me than you both could ever know.
To find out more about our self help programme that enables you to earn a lucrative income whilst still pursuing your dreams and highest calling in God. Kindly email me at raydendhew@gmail.com
To read my other articles, scroll up and click on the relevant topic on the right.
Papa was a very busy man who never failed to make time for things that were important to him, like his family. He worked in the police force and was a marvellous lawman and community leader and it seemed that there was always someone at the farm wanting papa’s advice about something or the other. I would peep through the crack of the dining room door and wonder when exactly my papa would be finished with his endless meetings with people at all times of the day or night that my papa was home, it was enough to cause much frustration to my little heart, since I had a list of things that I needed my papa for. What I saw instead was that he seemed to have a little bit of himself to give away to everybody that needed him. Mom would scoop me up and nestle me under her arm as she tucked me in bed and said “bedtime for you my girl, your papa is busy and will come to say goodnight to you as soon as he’s finished.” My gran would pop into the room and offer to tell me a bedtime story, which became way more than one story until my mom called it a night.
Mom and Dad lived together with my grandparents on their beautiful sprawling farm, when mom married dad my grandparents insisted that they stay together as papa loved to have his family close and the arrangement suited my parents fine. Papa and granny led church meetings on their farm and later at the church that was started. Their church meetings which we all attended were of utmost importance to them, where they counselled people and prayed over the various problems that people encountered Their raw faith in a God that never fails carried them through numerous hard times that fell on them through the years. Through it all they never doubted that God was their refuge and strength and that all things do work together for those that love God. I often sat between my darling grandparents at services, birthday parties, weddings or get togethers of some sort that seem to roll around often since my grandparents were invited to all of the functions that their congregants held. They did not wish to offend people by saying that sometimes they would have preferred to relax at home on a Saturday afternoon. No, instead they showed the love of Jesus to those who knew them, selflessly giving of themselves. Papa worked tirelessly, full time at his job as a policeman and then at the running of the farm as well as his ministry work in the evenings with granny beside him offering all her support by accompanying him in his ministry work and keeping the home fires burning.
My daddy is papa’s oldest son, I then have my aunt who is younger than my dad and lastly it is my dad’s baby brother. I am jolted back to the present, by my husband who brings me a steaming cup of much needed coffee as we sit together. He knows my thoughts are of my papa right now, since he is in the hospital slowly losing his battle to live at 83 years old. He is tired of the struggle to live, depressed about losing his right leg and not being able to get around as easily as he used to. Papa was used to still making his long distance visits to relatives over 1200km’s away, driving all by himself. Now in his eighties and the picture of vibrance he started getting a series of sharp pains in his foot and the colour in his foot looked rather bluish grey. Doctors ruled out that the arteries in his foot and calf were’nt working as efficiently as they should have, causing extreme pain in both. I had never seen papa look so drawn the day my husband and our kids together with the rest of the family met at the hospital to discuss if there was anything that could be done for him short of amputating his leg.
The doctor explained that he was too old for surgery and it was a better option to amputate. My husband and I were deadly against papa losing his leg, we so wanted to stand on the promises of God to heal him. To this day I wish we did’nt listen to that doctor because pap was never the same after the amputation. Dark shadows under his eyes were a norm for papa, drastic weight loss, my strong, strappy papa had become a shadow of his former self and it seemed all he wanted, was to go home to the Lord. I tried sitting with him, my husband and I tried to see him more often as he lived at least 80km from us. Often we would spend long hours just talking with him about his life, collecting all the relevant information I needed for the book I was writing on him. My wonderful gran had since passed on 8 years before and papa had’nt quite settled in after her death. He excitedly spoke about how thrilled he would be to see her again and that he was far too tired of waiting, he needed to go on home to the Lord. How I treasure those times I sat there holding hand or stroking his forehead as he spoke of things and times that were special to him or of hard times that befell him and his family, of turbulence in his ministry and yes of his God. He so loved the Lord.
On Tuesday the 17th November 2009 at 17.45pm with both my parents and my cousin beside his bed he went home to be with Jesus. I felt like part of my heart had been ripped out, I so wanted him to live and angrily swallowed down each time somebody said “ at least he had, had a good life, 83 years old.” I knew in my heart that was true and I had promised him I would be strong and never bitter because like he said “God is good” I have since learned that yes indeed our God is good. In my heart a part of me knew that papa could not live for ever, I knew I would see him again but that did’nt heal the ache that formed in my heart. I remember a particular moment with much tenderness as papa said he had something to tell me. I moved closer to him to hear what it was, it was his desire for us to carry on the work of Jesus, and to never let go of the promises of God. He encouraged me to continue to let people meet in our home without counting the cost or sacrifice it took to do that. Papa stressed that we should always remember that our home is God’s home. So close to dying and still his heart was with his congregants, for he cautioned us to never desert the poor and downtrodden, to never have Christmas lunch just as a family, certainly nothing wrong with that. its just been papa’s way to always have someone that was alone or needy have Christmas lunch with us. I cannot remember a time when it was just us as a family at the table for Christmas.
Looking into his bushy grey brows as his searching gaze found mine I wiped away the tears that were streaming down both his and my cheeks as I held his tawny, hardworking hands in mine. Now just skin and bone in mine, I promised him that I would continue to serve my God and oneday when I too am old and grey and lay dying on my bed my grand-daughter will make the same promise to me. Papa you have left a rich heritage to me, in the wonderful family you have left behind, in the love of an amazing father and a wonderful mother that grew to love you like her own father. In the husband who you have grown to love and be so proud of for his love for God, in the good counsel he sought from you, on how he too could lead his family with the zeal that you had, for this God that never failed you, in the spirit of joyfulness of our two kids, in the likeness of my dad’s mannerisms and speech, bathed in the love of the children you left behind. Yes papa, you scolded me and said I have to let you go but what you did’nt realise is that, I have never let you go, for in my heart there’s a place that will forever be reserved for you. As each day rolls into another, I too arise early in the morning for my appointment with my God. You know what papa? You were right, this is certainly a God that never fails.
I have a picture somewhere in my head of two people strolling hand in hand in a beautiful garden, of the wind blowing gently through my grandma’s hair as she leans against the broad shoulders of my once again big strong papa. I know, heaven has two of my biggest supporters, who are rooting for me from their new home, where there is no pain, sickness nor sorrow. Your counsel mean’nt more to me than you both could ever know.
To find out more about our self help programme that enables you to earn a lucrative income whilst still pursuing your dreams and highest calling in God. Kindly email me at raydendhew@gmail.com
To read my other articles, scroll up and click on the relevant topic on the right.
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