Put it in the Plate

Put it in the Plate

It has been many years since I sat beside my grandfather in church. As a child I loved to hear him sing. A portion of his heritage / nationality is Welsh. He has a wonderful tenor tone to his voice.

The last time I sat with my grandfather in church was six years ago. The occasion was my grandmother’s funeral and he was not singing on this day. Although just thinking about it now, I was the one singing on that day. Grandpa had asked me and my sister to sing a couple of grandma’s favorite hymns.
The time before that was probably twenty years earlier. We live in different towns and worship each Sunday with our own church families.

This past weekend I had the privilege to go to church with my grandpa. I was teaching for a weekend event in his town and I asked the attendees of the event if they would mind my leaving for an hour on Sunday to sit in church with my grandpa and hear him sing. They all gave me their blessing. I called grandpa to ask if I could go with him to church in the morning. I asked if he wanted me to come and pick him up or did he want to pick me up? He chose to come and pick me up.

I was ready when he came by in the morning. Two other ladies joined me and grandpa for church. Grandpa is 89 years old. He will be 90 in Feb.

I attend a fairly large church in my home town. I attended and participated in smaller church families for several years. At that time I yearned for a larger church family with a little more to offer and a more advanced program. Grandpa’s church was much like the churches from my past. It was a small town church with a small congregation. The service was a little rough around the edges, but there was joy and fellowship and I had forgotten the feel of unpolished worship. It was refreshing.

We heard announcements and then we sang some hymns. I sang a little softer so I could hear grandpa sing. There it was, that wonderful voice I enjoyed so much and hadn’t heard in many years. I smiled as I sang. The only difference this time was that whenever we made a line change in the music, grandpa would mumble a few of the words until his eye sight adjusted its focus to the new line. After the allotted time for hymns a prayer was given and the offering plate was passed throughout the congregation; a typical Sunday service program.

As the offering plate made its way through the congregation I reached for my purse to get my offering when grandpa nudged me with his elbow, I turned toward him and he handed me a one dollar bill. Then he whispered, “Put it in the plate”. It was like no time had passed. I immediately became that little five- year old girl sitting next my grandpa in church. I put the dollar in the plate and sat there with a huge smile on my face. It was all I could do not to giggle out loud! The preacher was probably wondering why I was smiling so big.. Grandpa was totally serious about it all. He didn’t do it as a joke or as a, “remember when” thing. What a precious memory.


SIDE NOTE: I invited him back to the house where he ate with 15 women. Now he had a new memory! He was so funny. He laughed about being the only man with all those women. He couldn’t wait to tell mom and dad, that he had dinner with 15 women. “This is a once in a life time thing”, he said. My husband, Thom, had a meeting in Grand Rapids a town a couple hours from our home. He had rented the movie “The Fastest Indian”. It is an excellent movie. It is about a 73 year old man who set a record for speed that still stands today. He had spent hi life tweaking the Indian motorcycle. Grand used to have an Indian motorcycle, so did my husband’s dad, Vernon. Thom thought grandpa would enjoy seeing this movie so on his way back home he stopped to see grandpa and watched the movie with him. Grandpa laughed really hard and cried some during the movie. I recommend it to anyone. It is a good family movie. Another story, to add to the family books.