Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Before and After (05/14/09)
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TITLE: Please Pass The Parables | Previous Challenge Entry
By Janice Fitzpatrick
05/21/09 -
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Aunt Vivian with her fashionable hot pink highlights and newly pierced ears, for the sixth time, squawked about her new boyfriend, like a hyper Macaw. Grandpa, on the other hand, sat quietly, where dad use to sit, flipping through the pages of that old leather book and moving the heap of peas on his plate, over to one side.
I grinned, braces and all. If there was one thing we had in common, it was green vegetables. Between spinach and cucumber salad we both spent more time trying to rid ourselves of the disgusting stuff.
Gina and Marty, both seven, listened attentively as grandpa talked about a parable.
“You see faith is a lot like a mustard seed.” “How big is that?” Marty leaned in.
“About the size of your brain,” jeered Darek.
Grandpa smiled, “See that on your plate?” He pointed to the cucumber seed floating in a sea of cream and vinegar. “It’s much smaller than that.”
Mom waltzed in, apron and all, with a tray full of sponge cake, a bowl of fresh berries and homemade whipped cream. People use to say that my parents could be an easy substitute for June and Hugh Cleaver.
Mom and dad had won more prizes for costume parties then I care to mention.
The only reason I know so much about those days is when we were little mom made popcorn in a foil covered pan on the stove, while we played Scrabble and watched reruns of “My Three Sons” and “Leave it To Beaver.”
Grandpa would look on while chewing his tobacco, grunting, and complaining.
Occasionally he’d spit the contents of his mouth into the old rusty tin on the corner table.
But that was before dad decided to leave.
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It doesn’t seem like that long ago but it’s been over a year. Since then we’ve changed.
Mom made me get retainers, while Darek, my science geek brother, gloated over things other than his knowledge of physics calculations, like his driver’s permit. Gina and Marty, used to cry a lot but they’ve been hanging around grandpa and I think it’s helped.
He’s even transformed before our eyes. No longer did that smelly old can sit by his chair but a large tattered book that he’d study for hours.
“You used to be really grumpy,” Gina chirped, “but now you’re different and I’m glad."
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“Grandpa,” I patted his shoulder one evening.
“Do you believe that stuff you read?” Grandpa lifted his head up from the Bible.
His eyes lit up as he scooted over and motioned that there was room for me.
“Use to not.” He spoke carefully. “Guess after your grandma passed away years ago I gave up.”
“What changed your mind?” I wanted to know.
“It was more like who.” “I needed to find purpose in my life again. I prayed for the first time in I don’t know how long.”
“Yeah and that’s when God helped him.” Gina popped out of nowhere. She snuggled up to an arm.
For just a minute I wanted what Marty and Gina had, childlike faith and grandpa’s undivided attention.
The twins would listen by the hour at his feet while he told them, “kingdom stories” as he called them.
I listened several times, and always wondered why a man clad in a robe would take the time to teach people who didn’t even care about him or others. Those Pharisees were something else, trying to stop him from healing people or sharing the truth.
But he kept on.
I wanted to learn more about this Jesus.
At least I knew where to go.
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As a platter of French toast and sausage made its rounds Marty prodded grandpa, through a mouthful of syrupy bread. “Can you tell us another story?"
I was glad he did. I felt as if I was too old to ask but I liked to hear the words flow from grandpa’s lips.
They were sweet like the berries Mom served for dessert and each time grandpa spoke he added a dollop of whipped cream to his stories.
“Please pass the parables, I mean syrup,” Aunt Vivian corrected herself.
We all laughed. Maybe someday our dad would return like the prodigal son and join us at the table. But until then we had grandpa and his wonderful lessons.
Luke 17:6
Luke 15:11-24
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FYI--It was Ward Cleaver, not Hugh.
Your writing is very good!
My favorite part of your story was your description here: "I liked to hear the words flow from grandpa’s lips.
They were sweet like the berries Mom served for dessert and each time grandpa spoke he added a dollop of whipped cream to his stories."
What a blessing to his family that God changed Grandpa's heart! :)
mona