My grandfather prayed for me every day, by name. And when I fell pregnant with my first child, he also prayed for that little life, even before he had a name. Of course, I was not alone. He prayed for each of his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. He had learned the valuable lesson of bringing the souls he loved daily, persistently before the throne of God. I think his prayers still cover me, though he has since gone on to his reward. After all he prayed (and I pray still) to a God not bound by time.
He was a man of great integrity, great humor, great faith. I still remember the cat that mysteriously meowed any time he showed up. I remember his large warm hands holding mine as we sang together. I remember the deep lines of his face, the rumble of his bass voice, his forthright manner. I remember our talks. He is gone, yet his faith remains, passed to my father and then to me. The seeds are now being planted in my children, his great grandchildren.
Yes, some grandparents love to spoil – trinkets and sugary snacks and tv time. But the real work, the real privilege of godly grandparents (those related by blood and the church) is the work of passing on the faith.
God bless faithful grandparents.
I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, dwells in you as well ~ 2 Timothy 1:5
He established a testimony in Jacob
and appointed a law in Israel,
which he commanded our fathers
to teach to their children,
that the next generation might know them,
the children yet unborn,
and arise and tell them to their children,
so that they should set their hope in God ~ Psalm 78:5-7
Wattsup With Kids 