Hugs for Grandparents: Stories, Sayings and Scriptures to Encourage and Inspire

Hugs for Grandparents: Stories, Sayings and Scriptures to Encourage and Inspire

by Larry Keefauver Dr.
     
 

This addition to the the "Hugs" series is perfect for grandparents of all ages. With touching stories, such as "Grandmother's Bible," "Saying Goodbye," and "Jewel Remembers," this heartwarming book reminds grandparents of the vital role they play in the lives of their families and hugs their hearts with reminders that they… See more details below

Overview

This addition to the the "Hugs" series is perfect for grandparents of all ages. With touching stories, such as "Grandmother's Bible," "Saying Goodbye," and "Jewel Remembers," this heartwarming book reminds grandparents of the vital role they play in the lives of their families and hugs their hearts with reminders that they are loved and appreciated.

Like the other books in the "Hugs" series, this book is divided into seven topical sections, and each section contains a delightful story, a paraphrased scripture, an uplifting quote, and an inspirational message.

Do you know a grandparent who needs a hug today? Share a hug that will be a blessing for a lifetime!

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781439124659
Publisher:
Howard Books
Publication date:
12/15/2008
Series:
Hugs Series
Pages:
128
Sales rank:
952,393
Product dimensions:
4.90(w) x 7.90(h) x 0.40(d)

Read an Excerpt

Hugs for Grandparents

Stories, Sayings, and Scriptures to Encourage and Inspire
By Larry Keefauver

Howard Books

Copyright © 1998 Larry Keefauver
All right reserved.



Chapter 1

Grandma's Wisdom

    Each Christmas my grandparents

came from Tennessee to celebrate the holidays with us. No one

could cook like Grandmother. I loved sitting in the kitchen and

talking with her as she baked all of her favorite holiday recipes

- especially the Christmas cookies. If I was really good,

she'd let me stir the cookie dough and lick the spoon. I

will never forget the wonderful aromas and wisdom-filled talks we

shared.

    When I was old enough to go to

school, I met new friends who seemed to know things far beyond

anything ever revealed by my parents. One boy told me where

babies came from, but his story sounded a little fishy. Why would

storks go to all that trouble? A girl revealed to me why boys and

girls were different: She secretly whispered that we were

different so that girls could wear dresses - but boys had to

wear pants. Gosh, I never wanted to wear a dress anyway!

    But the most disturbing

revelation of all came from my best friend, Buddy - and

Buddy never lied to me. Buddy told me that there was no such

person asSanta Claus. I couldn't believe it. Every year

Santa had come faithfully to our house on Christmas Eve, leaving

me great presents and eating the cookies and drinking the milk I

left by the tree.

    But Buddy told me that Santa

was really my parents. I was shaken to the core. What a terrible

Christmas it would be if Santa were really Mom and Dad! So one

day after school, as I sat in the kitchen helping Grandmother

bake cookies, I got up the nerve to ask her. I knew she

wouldn't lie, and she seemed so old and wise that surely she

knew everything - especially about Santa Claus.

    "Grandmom, will you tell

me the truth if I ask you something?" I ventured.

    "If I know the answer, I

will," she replied as she handed me a spoon filled with

sugar cookie dough to lick clean.

    "Well, my friend Buddy

told me that there is no real Santa Claus. He said Santa is just

Mom and Dad. Is that true?" I asked, holding my breath for

the answer.

    "Hmmm." She paused

as she wiped her flour-covered hands on her handmade apron, which

was brightly decorated with Christmas trees, stars, presents, and

bears - she loved teddy bears. "I can't answer for

sure. I'm really not an expert on Santa Claus. But I suggest

that we just wait and see what happens this year. Watch your

parents closely; never let them out of your sight. And if

presents do appear under the tree and you don't see your

parents put them there, then Santa must be real for you."

Her eyes seemed to have an unusually bright twinkle in them as

she turned back toward the oven to take out the next batch of

cookies.

    Her plan made perfect sense. I

plotted to stay up all night on Christmas Eve and watch the tree

from the crack under my bedroom door. I had a direct line of

vision from my room, and I knew how I could make myself stay

awake - I would drink lots of Coke.

    Every Christmas Eve our family

went to a candlelight service at church that ended at midnight.

My grandparents never went with us because it was too late for

them; they always retired around 10:00 each evening. As usual,

the service was beautiful, but all I could think about was

staying awake. I had hidden a few bottles of Coke under my bed to

help me. I prayed really hard that God would help me too.

    That Christmas I was hoping to

get a new bike. I knew my chances were slim, but I still held out

hope. Since I had been really good, I felt that just maybe Santa

would grant my request.

    Walking in the front door at

12:30 a.m. on Christmas Day, I had one thought in mind: Go

directly to my room and drink a Coke in order to stay awake. As I

walked past the Christmas tree, a quick glance out of the side of

my eye brought me to a screeching halt. There, in front of the

tree, was the most beautiful red Flyer bike I had ever seen. I

was stunned. Apparently, Santa had come while I was at church

with my family. I checked the cookies and milk, and sure enough

- all that was left of the cookies was a few crumbs, and the

milk glass was empty.

    I couldn't believe it.

All my doubts about Santa vanished. My bike had training wheels,

so I just sat on it for a while, dreaming about riding it down

our street in just a few hours. I wanted so badly to tell my

grandparents, but Mom insisted I not bother them since they were

asleep. In ecstasy, I slipped into bed and said my prayers,

remembering to thank God for Santa Claus and my new Ryder bike.

    The next morning, I proudly

showed my new bike to my grandparents, and I noticed that bright

twinkle in Grandmom's eye again. As our Christmas tradition

dictated, we gathered around the living room and read the story

of Christ's birth from the book of Luke. Then each of us

shared something we were thankful for: Mom and Dad expressed

gratitude to God for blessing them with children; Grandmom and

Grandfather thanked God for seeing their grandchildren filled

with joy; and me, I just praised God for Santa and my new bike.

Gently, Grandmom added, "Remember, the joy of Jesus'

birth is a much greater joy than any present you will ever get

under the tree."

    So, for one more year, a

child's innocence had been preserved against the onslaught

of a cynical world. True, such a trivial thing means little in

the annals of history, but it meant everything to me that night.

As a teenager, I finally learned the truth. While the family was

away at church, Grandfather had assembled my bike while Grandmom

had looked on approvingly, eating cookies and sipping milk. And a

few hours later, they sat peering through the crack beneath their

bedroom door to witness the surprise and joy of their grandson.

    I was shocked that my perfect,

God-fearing grandparents had planned and pulled off such a

deceitful conspiracy. Yet my shock was only momentary. I

recognized their deep love in their desire to see me experience

wonder and joy at Christmas. And I had matured to the point of

understanding that the gift of God's love in Jesus truly was

the greatest gift of all. And that gift was reflected ever so

brightly in Grandmom and Grandfather.



Continues...


Excerpted from Hugs for Grandparents by Larry Keefauver Copyright © 1998 by Larry Keefauver. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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