May the light be always on wherever home may be and our hearts forever lit with love by each sweet memory
Anne Calodich Fone
Forty-one years of memories have flooded my thinking over the past couple of months. How did I get here so fast? Just yesterday, my sister and I were little girls in matching nightgowns and rollers sitting on Grandma and Grandpa’s felt brown couch with wooden armrests, waiting to go to sleep. It didn’t seem like many years had passed till we were riding four-wheelers with my cousins, waiting for the oldest, Gary, to take the heat for the dent we left in the front of it.
Watching my Grandpa and Grandma leave our place in South Dakota after a long visit, my father was walking out to the barn. I watched him as he went. “Mom, why does dad look so sad?” She responded, “Oh, he gets that way when he has to say goodbye to his folks. He will be ok. Give him a little time.”
NOW AVAILABLE!
Available on Amazon or Personally – signed and shipped!
With no warning at all, Grandpa got older. Oh, he kept telling me from time to time he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but I never noticed. He could still manage one of Dad’s construction projects or pull a fifth-wheel camper like it was nothing.
What words do you say when unsure if they will be the last you speak to those you love? My head was hanging low as I left the hospital that day, like my father’s all those years ago. Knowing my grandparents’ impact on my life, I decided it was important to pen my recollections.
There’s a lighthouse on the hillside
That overlooks life’s sea
When I’m tossed, it sends out a light
That I might see
And the light that shines in darkness now
Will safely lead us o’er
If it wasn’t for the lighthouse
My ship would be no more
It’s hard to separate the two of them. Grandpa and Grandma just go together, like the mailing address and the stamp on an envelope; you never see one without the other. Grandma and Grandpa were married on May 19th, 1956. Even in the hospital, after sixty-nine years, my grandma found it more comfortable to stay with Grandpa than to go home. Several years ago, Grandpa had a heart attack, they had been married fifty-nine years at the time. Grandma spoke sorrowfully, “I need more time.” I sat there listening, thinking to myself, fifty-nine years hasn’t been long enough. What kind of love still needs more time?
There have been Christmas carols, summer visits, homebuilding projects, picnics, and meal gatherings, none of which the grandchildren ever made it to the dining room table; the kitchen table has served as our permanent meal placement for thirty years or more. I have heard prayers of thanksgiving, protection, provision, and healing coming from the head of the table. The carport still smells of car oil and petunias. Humidity sticks to the skin, and birds chirp while the screen door opens one more time. There are VHS tapes full of family videos, photo albums packed to the max of moments snapped for safekeeping, and Andy Griffith lines to last a lifetime. Yet, none of these wonderful, cherished memories will be my grandpa’s legacy.
Celebrating my Grandpa’s return back home, several members of my family gathered to visit. The kids were running in and out, horses were out behind the house saddled, ready for an afternoon ride, and Dad was strumming his guitar alongside my uncle. My aunt was tickling the ivories as they led us in familiar hymns. The warmth felt like I was a little girl again sitting on that felt brown sofa.
I had the privilege of praying for my Grandpa before I left for home. What an honor to be able to pray for a man whose faith inspired me to stand firm. I am the fourth generation of his lighthouse, and my kids are coming after me.
“We treat faith like a feather that can be blown away by one wrong statement. Jesus treated it like a rock upon which a wise man builds his house. Grandpa may lack the strength to stand, but his anchor still holds.” – Jim Stockdale
It seems that everyone about us says,
Tear that old lighthouse down
The big ships just don’t pass this way anymore
So there’s no use in standin’ round.
Then my mind goes back to that one dark, stormy night
When, just in time, I saw the light
Yes, it was the light from that old lighthouse
That stands up there on the hill
Grandma says that Grandpa loves to hear my stories as she reads them out loud. If not for them, I wouldn’t have had the stories because, as my sister said, “It was Grandpa who taught our Dad how to be a Daddy.”
A.W. Miles lived from 1785-1822. On his headstone, the epitaph reads – When he came, there was no light. When he left, there was no darkness. He was a one-way missionary to the South Pacific, where no missionary had survived. For thirty-five years, A.W. Miles taught the gospel to the native tribes and died as a keeper of the lighthouse.
And I thank God for the lighthouse
I owe my life to Him
Jesus is the lighthouse
And from the rocks of sin
He has shown a light around me
That I might clearly see
If it wasn’t for the lighthouse
Tell me where would this ship be
By Ronny Hinson
A light burns in my house today because of my Grandpa. 1 Timothy 6:16 says, “Who alone has immortality, dwelling in unapproachable light, whom no one has seen or can see, to Him be honor and eternal dominion.” Paul was blinded by the light. Moses had to look behind the light, yet you and I get to walk in the light – if Jesus is Lord of our life. His light shines the brightest when Jesus shines through you and me.
It has been my Grandpa’s constant resolution to let his light burn. He made a decision many years ago never to return but to be a keeper of the lighthouse. This will be his legacy.
You, Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. Psalms 18:28
Dedicated to my Grandpa Stockdale – A Keeper of the Lighthouse
