In 1987, an eight-year-old boy stood on a picnic table with a slender stick in his hand. He bent his head back and opened his arms wide as if to encompass the great blue expanse and the cotton-white clouds blown about so high above. The boy was on a one-month visit to his grandparents’ house in Eshowe, South Africa, and the picnic table stood in their backyard. The boy commanded the clouds with his conductor’s baton.
To the boy, this was wild land. Just a few days before, he had been throwing a tennis ball high in the air, and an eagle had swooped down and carried it off in its mighty talons. Monkeys invaded the paw-paw trees, ruining the fruit, making a racket and a mess. Giant grasshoppers scattered as the mowers hacked away with their curved blades beside the street. Interesting plants and animals abounded in and around his grandpa’s yard.
A few days later, the boy woke up to an enormous fire out behind the house and rushed madly into his grandpa and grandma’s room to warn them. They calmly explained that workers were burning the sugar cane before harvesting it—the fire looked dangerous, but it would not come to the house. Sure enough, the next day a field of burnt sticks were laid out across the field, and the boy snuck down from the backyard to tear open sugar cane stalks and chew the sweet pulp.
In 1999, a twenty-year-old stood in the same house, this time on a three-month visit. He preached lessons and taught classes and drove with his grandpa all around South Africa—north to Johannesburg and then up to Venda, east to Richard’s Bay, south to Durban and Pinetown—visiting Christians and churches all along the way. His grandpa asked him to read through Galatians verse by verse as they drove along, and he gave commentary and expounded on the verses from memory. He also made the young man wash the car each evening.
In 2016, the young man’s grandma died, and she was to be buried in South Africa, which had been her home for over half her life. The now 37-year-old man was gifted a plane ticket by some wonderful friends, and he travelled back to the same house in Eshowe to visit with his grandpa and other relatives. They remembered grandma together as they cleaned out her special room where she had stored all her records, sewing, and knick-knacks over the past 30+ years.
That trip was the last time the man saw his grandpa face-to-face. His grandpa used to make trips back to the States every four years to visit the brethren and churches who supported his preaching ministry, but he had grown too old to make the trip anymore.
On July 26, 2023, the man realized he was thinking about his grandpa, who was fast approaching his 93rd birthday. Sadly, he had not communicated with his grandpa in several years, and for some reason on that day he felt a pressing need to reach out, so he sent an email.
Dear Grandpa,
It has been some time since I last sent you an email, and I wanted to let you know I love you and think of you often. You are in my prayers.
You have been an anchor in my life, and I’m glad we have had several opportunities to spend time together in this life. My trip to South Africa as a 20-year-old was formative for me and has affected the rest of my life in a positive way.
I will continue to try my best to champion the peace the Holy Spirit began in us (Ephesians 4.1-3). My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. On Christ the solid rock I stand. And I know you do, too. You have walked in your faith all the days I have known you, and I love your example of faithfulness. I pray that your reward will be great in the land to which we go.
I pray that you are well, that your days are full of blessing, and that the people of God surround you with the help you need.
With love and respect,
Nathan
Grandpa slipped and fell in that same house in Eshowe on July 31, 2023, and he died.
I hope he read the email.
I pray that he is in the hands of his Lord and Savior even now and that I’ll see him again soon.