My Grandfather’s Bible

I remember the last time I visited my Mamaw and Papaw at their home in Florida. Was I 10 or 11? In a little room just off the garage, I learned about the puckering power of alum, escorted Joe Pierre to the palm tree, ate mangos and Pop tarts, visited, and combed Papaw’s hair. Sometime during that visit, Papaw asked me to read to him from the Bible. I wish I could remember the passage I read. I read a chapter and closed the Bible, confident that I had completed the task. He cajoled me into reading another, and another, and … Was this a way to keep me from talking his ear off? It was then that I learned of Papaw’s love of the Bible.

In my hands I hold a museum. Nestled between the pages of a small, black 1957 King James Version of the Bible are hundreds of artifacts. Several are dated 1977. Could this be the Bible I read from?

There are more than 2 dozen different tracts crammed throughout the pages. Some have catchy titles “Heart Trouble and Its Cure.” Others are thought provoking like the one titled “Praise is Faith at Work.” Still others are dated such as “A Lesson in the 1040 Form” which tells the story of an income tax audit on a return with an income of $5000. Many were printed at The Best Life Publishers of Lake Worth, Florida. Others contain the message “Write for free samples and information” along with the name of the publisher and an address. I imagine that Papaw wrote off for quite a few samples.

I begin to sort through slips of paper containing hand written notes. My grandfather’s penmanship is a rough scrawl that rarely conforms to a uniform orientation. Deciphering is both fascinating and tedious. Words and phrases parade about randomly – some flow left to right, others march in columns, and still more slide slanting and sloping from corner to corner. There are few sentences or paragraphs. An abundance of words and phrases fill the slips of paper, margins, and inside of the covers.

Here and there I encounter entire sentences – tidbits of truth like “A Christian is a man with an invisible support,” “Always count God in,” “Prove God,” and “We are on the winning team.” Every page of the Bible contains underlining. Key words and phrases are emphasized and more words and phrases adorn the margins.

Still more slips of paper say, “This is what I want to lay out before the Lord when I pray” followed by a name or names. So many people were included in his prayers. Most are strangers, yet I find a few names that I recognize. Some scraps of paper seem to have sermon notes – more key words, phrases, and references.

Two carefully folded sheets of notebook paper seem out of place in this ticker tape collection. I unfold them to discover a composition titled “LR Caperton’s Testimony.” I read it slowly, trying to gain the meaning despite several indecipherable scrawls. It is the story of a young man working in the mines in 1920, discovering the Lord’s calling on his life, praying for a Christian wife, and finding what he describes as abundant joy. It ends by noting that he wrote this testimony after 53 years of serving God.

I return to the little museum from time to time always discovering something new. I decode another scribble, read another tract, or ponder the words underlined in a passage. As I reminisce about my grandfather on his cot in the little room where I read to him and combed his hair, I ponder my spiritual heritage. I am so fortunate to be blessed by his heritage and am humbled by the legacy he left.