Every time my mother had a baby, she sent me to stay with her parents, and since I was the eldest of five, it meant that at least four times I lived with my grandparents. Sometimes I wondered if my mother had forgotten me. Once she left me there for nearly twelve months. However, I didn’t mind. Grandpa and Grandma lived in the country, which I enjoyed. Better still, they had a tendency to spoil me. My grandmother belonged to the Salvation Army, and used to take me with her and put me in the Sunday School class. This kept up until I was about 10. After that I saw them only on special occasions. Needless to say, I missed them very much. When I was old enough to drive, I went to see them often. There was a special bond between us, even though I was one of 20 grandchildren.
After my grandfather died suddenly, my grandmother went downhill very quickly. She was well into her 70’s at the time, and I was 32. Within 12 months she ended up in the hospital, and one day she sent word for me to come. She did not know that I had been saved only the week before. It took over two hours to drive to the country hospital to see her. When I went in to her room, she looked radiant and peaceful. It was a beautiful spring day, and as I looked out of the window, I could see the hills ablaze with assorted wild flowers. I took a chair and sat beside grandmother’s bed (she shared the room with another woman). I lost no time in telling her what the Lord had done in my life, although I am sure it was a fumbling testimony. She was ecstatic.
Then she asked if I would hold her hand and read something to her from the Bible. I quickly offered up a prayer, asking God to give me something really special. I couldn’t think of anything at the time, so began to read from where the Bible fell open. When I finished the short reading, I looked at her face and noticed tears on her cheeks. I realized that they were tears of joy. But when I felt her hand go limp, I sensed that there was something wrong. I called the nurse, who, in turn, called the doctor. He came in, checked her quickly, and told me that she was gone. I couldn’t believe it; she looked as if she were sleeping.
Twelve months to the day after we had buried grandfather, I was back for Grandma’s funeral, the largest that that little country town had ever seen. The nurse who had been in the hospital at the time of my grandmother’s death came to me and told me that she went to the same church as my grandmother. She then added that my grandmother’s one great prayer in life was for God to let her see just one of her family saved before she died.
God indeed was faithful. My grandmother died after I gave my testimony, and the moment I had finished reading from the Bible.
When the Scripture was read at the funeral, I realized it was the same one I had read to my grandmother. It was Psalm 23. I didn’t realize when I read it how appropriate it was.
I later spoke to all the family about what had taken place, and about my grandmother’s special prayer, but to this day (16 years later) no one else in the family has yet been saved.
Later, the elderly lady who shared the room with my grandmother asked me to come and share with her all that had happened. I was able to tell her how it was that my grandmother had such peace. I can only hope that I will meet her in heaven.