One of the highlights of my childhood was Sunday dinner. Always at Grandma's (although my step grandfather also lived there!). Always consisting of roast beef done just right, creamy mashed potatoes, and steaming hot gravy. And of course, the obligatory vegetable. In this case dreaded green peas . . . of which the eating of them led to a few showdowns between me and my parents (my parents would be proud of me as I now enjoy eating peas!). But I always got a pass at Grandma's! After dinner, my twin brother and I got to spend cherished time with Gramps as we affectionately called him.
Gramps, although average in weight and height, was a giant in our eyes. He and Grandma lived in a tiny (and I do mean TINY!) one room apartment in the basement of an eight story downtown Harrisburg apartment building known as the Greyco. Gramps was the maintenance man. We thought he owned the place! Gramps sure knew how to provide fun for two youngsters! He would take us up to the eighth floor and as we walked back down the stairwell, allow us to throw the bundles of yesterday’s newspapers down the chute to the incinerator (times sure have changed a bit over the years!). Feeding the gold fish in the large cement pond in the apartment building's courtyard was another favorite activity (we fed them Quaker Oats oatmeal ... maybe that's why I love oatmeal now!). And there were the trips into the subbasement. Those was both exciting and scary for we never knew what was lurking in the shadows!
Then there were also trips with Gramps outside the Greyco: Skipping stones across the surface of the Susquehanna River (the Greyco was only a block and a half from the river), walking across the the Walnut Street Bridge to City Island, going hiking around Rockville (located about 8 miles upriver from Harrisburg.). I hope you can agree with me from what I have shared, Gramps was a great granddad!
As I reflected on these memories this morning, it hit home that I am now "Gramps." No, I am not a maintenance guy for some apartment (and renters everywhere can be happy that is so!). And my grandkids don't call me "Gramps" but rather "Papa." But, like my grandfather, and his grandfather before him, I enjoy the opportunities to spend time with my grandchildren.
Yet in the midst of the joy of grand parenting, I am nagged by this question: Where have the years gone? I remind myself that it won't be long before my grandchildren are reflecting on their time spent with me (and I hope they do so with fondness).
So I leave you with this question: As our lives are quickly passing, "like vapor which appears for a little while and then vanishes" (James 4:14), are you asking the Lord to teach you to number your days carefully, so that you might gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:2)? Let me recommend sometime between now, December 31st and the close of New Year's Day, you open your Bible and read the only Psalm credited to Moses, Psalm 90. For we all need reminded that each and every day counts, and once gone they cannot be retrieved or redone! Let's strive to take hold of each day and live it for Christ.
Thanks for stopping by … and a blessed new year to you all.
PJ
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