Leather, gold, and wood.

When I was a young girl, I discovered that my precious grandfather had cancer. I remembered the journey of my grandmother, her battle with cancer, and finally, the pain of losing her. I was afraid. 

There were surgeries and procedures, treatments and prayers; he was dying nonetheless.

Preparing for a last visit to his home, full of hope and courage, I came to an important conclusion. I didn't want him to go to Hell. I always knew he didn't believe in Jesus. I could not bear to think that I would never see him again.

So, I got my allowance and asked my parents if we could get him a Bible.

We bought this beautiful brown leather Bible. I opened the box and took out the Bible, running my fingers across his name written in gold letters across the front cover. Flipping through the pages, I was overwhelmed by the smell of new leather, print & paper. 

I could not wait to give it to him. It's the best present ever. 

What if there wasn't time for him to read it all?

I'd been learning the Romans Road at school, and figured it pretty important that he skip the boring parts and get straight to Jesus saving his soul. 

I wrote him a letter, carefully explaining these verses and mine and Jesus' love for him. 

I hoped and prayed that I'd get to meet my beloved Granddaddy Roy again someday in Heaven. 

I never saw or spoke to him again, and when I returned for his funeral, the Bible was returned to me by his widow. My letter was carefully folded inside the cover of the Bible, which was in pristine condition. 

I don't know if anything changed or came of that, but I do know my heart. I do know that I believed that his brokenness and the tragedies of his live could be healed and that it was not too late.

For years, I kept the Bible tucked away, letter inside, on a shelf in its' original box. Finally, I put the Bible to use & it wasn't long until the letter was lost. 

I'd love to read it today, to get a glimpse of my young faith & naive ambition, to have my young innocent words revive a passion in my soul. 

I still hope that I will see him, cowboy hat in hand, on the streets of gold one day. 

I'll run into his arms, hug him tight, take in his smell, and cry tears of joy to be his precious little girl once again.

Until then, his Bible will remain at eye level on the shelf across from my bed, as a reminder of the purpose of my life; to glorify Jesus and love His children in hopes of seeing them know Him. 

Until then, I will imagine my Granddaddy taking walks, talking with Jesus about carpentry and woodart, and admiring the beauty of His creation.