At some time or another, I think we’ve all had the opportunity to hear stories from those older than us. Some of those stories involved great heartache, difficult circumstances, and hard choices. Other stories involved hilarious pranks, memorable quotes, tears of joy, or times of wonder. Although we can’t always relate to every person and the things they have experienced in their lifetime, I think we can certainly listen and realize: “Wow, I’m not the only one who has difficulties.”
I had the privilege of growing up around older adults. I was homeschooled all the way through high school, so I didn’t necessarily spend as much time with people my age. I had moments when I wondered what it would be like to attend public school or a Christian school. However, there were only rare times when I wanted to do anything different from a home education. After my high school graduation, I sometimes considered how my life would have been different if I hadn’t been homeschooled. Would it really have been better? Even with some of the pros in attending school elsewhere, I always found myself preferring to be around people older than me. Most of the people my own age were pretty foolish and immature, so I always found it easier to speak with older folks, particularly those from my church and the farming community around us. Proverbs tells us that “That those who walk with the wise become wise.”
The folks that I spent my time with weren’t always ‘wise’ per se, but man, did they ever have stories! I couldn’t tell you how many hours I sat in our local Jimmy Johns listening to fishing tales about the world’s biggest catch. (I quickly learned that by the time the story finished, the bass had grown about 4 inches). I listened to many two-hour conversations about guns, ammo, retirement life, cancer, the government, and farm equipment. The men in the "coffee shop” would mention names like “Shorty” or “Bird” or “Hugh” or “Weiner.” At the time, these names meant nothing to me, but it was obvious that everybody knew everybody.
So, while every kid my age was in school, one could often find me sitting in the “donut shop” with my grandparents. For a while, going with my grandparents to get donuts and coffee was a difficult exchange. I knew quite well, that, if I went, we would be sitting in that shop for a long time. But, as I grew, I cared less and less about the donuts and more about spending time with my grandpa and grandma.
I learned quick from these older men though. For one thing, I learned that if one of them ever tells you, “Hey look! There’s Santa Claus!” you never take your eyes off of your food. It might just disappear. But I also learned other things—things about them as individuals. Some men would walk in and barely say a word. Others would walk in and share the latest farming community gossip. And still there were others who came just to be where all the fellas were. If poets like Mark Twain had still been around, I’m sure he would have taken advantage of writing about this crowd.
One of the reasons I do a lot of writing is so that I don’t forget the faithfulness and goodness of God. When you tell a story about your life, it reawakens not only emotions, but also the things you know are true. More than anyone, you can recall the details and the things that were running through your mind. You remember the decision(s) you made in that season of life. They weren’t always easy decisions. Sometimes they were life-changing and painful. In your testimony, you’re sharing what happened, who was involved, and what the outcome was.
This post is really a small collection of different stories about my grandpa and his life. In truth, I think just about every story about my grandpa also involves my grandmother. However, I wanted to focus this time on my grandpa Larry. Some of the stories he has shared with me in the past were powerful. They kept me still as pond water. Grandpa told me about his life before coming to know Christ; he told me about life after accepting Christ; and about certain people whom God brought into his life, for the purpose of being a loving friend and witness.
This first story speaks to the kind of circumstances my grandfather grew up in. He was the oldest of all his siblings. Their family never had much of anything. His dad (my great, grandpa Bud) worked on the railroad for years. But trying to make ends meet was often close to impossible for the Hoke family. Most families go through financial hardship to some extent and at some time or another, but there was a bigger problem in the family: great grandpa Bud was an alcoholic. Night after night, every week, Bud would hang out at the local Eagles tavern (or elsewhere) to drink beer and play pool with his friends. He spent not only a lot of time, but also money on these pleasures, while neglecting his family. My great-grandmother—Marge--often had to step in just to put food on the table. But despite her efforts, most of the time all they could afford was beans. Food was just as scarce as income. With several kids to feed and send to school, where would the money come from?
As time went on, Bud became an abuser. He would stagger home late at night in a drunken stupor, not comprehending his words or actions. My grandpa shared that if Bud was in a mean mood, he would sometimes beat Marge. Other times, he would beat the kids until he had to puke from his alcohol consumption. It became a terrifying and bitter life for everyone in the house. No one knew when Bud would come home or in what condition he would be in. You couldn’t reason with him, you couldn’t talk to him, and half the time he couldn’t even remember what happened the night before. Sometimes the kids would run outside so that they wouldn’t get beaten by dad. As for my great-grandma, well, she just did what she could.
As my grandpa grew older and stronger, there were a couple of times he decided to try to put a stop to his old man. He did stand up to his dad, but the problem was that he couldn’t change his dad. Knocking Bud to the floor wouldn’t change his heart.
My grandpa became so bitter on the inside that, over time, an ulcer grew in his stomach. In fact, it grew to such an extent that he lost all appetite and couldn’t laugh anymore. His mother finally decided to take him to the doctor. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the doctor to figure out what was going on. He gave them an old remedy which he knew would work. So, for a couple of months, grandpa consumed nothing but really thick cream. And, slowly but surely, the remedy made the ulcer disappear. Things would be normal again, right? Only for my grandpa’s stomach. He still had to deal with his dad. They all did.
Prior to becoming an adult, grandpa spent many hours in the taverns with his dad-- not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Like it or not, grandpa learned all about pub life. He learned the terminology, learned how to handle drunks, and learned how to shoot pool. After so many hours, Bud would finally have his fill of pleasure for the evening. My grandpa was there to drive him home.
If you knew that your dad was spending needed money on alcohol, would you really feel like driving him home?
When times are bad, you sometimes ask, “Could things get any worse?” Well, they did in the Hoke family. One day, Bud came home in a drunken rage. All of the kids knew what dad was like when drunk, but this was different. There was no possibility of discussion, no time to try to cool him down. Bud was really going to hurt someone this time. My grandpa, being older and stronger now, did the only thing he could think of. He tied his own father to the nearest tree. Managing to get Bud’s attention away from the rest of the family, grandpa eventually looped a rope around his father’s waste and pulled him tightly against the tree trunk. Meanwhile, my great grandmother called the police. Bud tried to squirm out of the rope, but grandpa held it tight until the police finally arrived. That night (like other nights), Bud slept in a jail cell, while his family cried at home. Grandpa shared with me that he and his siblings could always tell when their dad had been drinking whisky. If Bud drank beer, the usual events were expected in the Hoke house. But if Bud had been drinking whisky, ‘That,’ my grandpa told me, ‘was when he would get mean.’ A person drunk on whiskey is a whole new ball game. But it’s not a baseball that the drunk is hitting.
Have you ever had to tie your own dad to a tree because he wanted to hurt someone? That is an experience, by the grace of God, not everyone goes through. I praise God that it’s not something I’ve ever had to go through. But for some people in this world, hardships like that do take place. Is there hope for the future? Is there a healing that goes beyond some thick cream? Is there a power that could change everything?
Yes.
Years later, my grandpa (and my grandma) would realize this, and it would change their lives forever.
My grandparents didn’t become Christians until their later twenties. They had my mom at young age and raised her well. But to them, church was just church. They had heard things about church people and also dealt with those who would come knocking on their door. They really didn’t like religious people.
Grandpa eventually settled into a solid career with Caterpillar. He worked in the shop for years until, unexpectedly, he was upgraded to an office job. For years and years, he was a tool designer. And it was during these years, that grandpa met a man named Garland Cruise. Garland was a fellow coworker in the office area who quickly became a good friend. He was very blunt, but also very loving. He was just the kind of influence my grandpa needed in his life. Grandpa knew that Garland was a Christian and went to church, so grandpa often shied away from having too many conversations about it. But Garland was faithfully persistent. He never tried to force church upon my grandpa, but he faithfully encouraged him to give it a try. Finally, he made a deal with my grandpa: “If you come to church and don’t like it, I won’t bother you about it anymore.” Garland knew very well what he was doing. After considering it, my grandpa finally said, “Alright, me and Jane will come.”
And they did.
During that particular time, Garland’s church—Riverside Baptist—was going through a sermon series on the book of Revelation. While my grandparents sat in a church pew with Garland and his wife, Pastor Johnson preached a powerful message about things to come. Neither of my grandparents knew much about the Bible or about God. All of this was new to them. But they were absolutely captivated. While sharing this story with me years ago, grandpa imitated what was going on in his mind during that sermon: “I ain’t never heard of anything like this before!” It was true. Everything that Pastor Johnson preached about was mind-blowing. But it was the truth, and my grandparents knew it.
When the service was over, Garland asked my grandparents if they would like to come back for evening church. After hearing what was said in the sermon, my grandpa couldn’t help himself: “Well yeah!!” Grandpa personally wondered how in the world he had gone so long not knowing this stuff. He shared with me, “I really could have saved myself a lot of trouble in life if I had given God a chance much earlier.”
By God’s grace, it was just a short time before both my grandparents put their faith in Jesus Christ. They realized they were sinners and needed God’s forgiveness and hope of eternal life.
Garland became a dear friend to my grandpa. He discipled him and often corrected him when he needed corrected. Grandpa needed a blunt and truthful person in his life, and that is exactly what Garland was. He didn’t put any sprinkles on top. He would say things just as they were. Occasionally, he would give my grandpa Bible study homework to fill out. If grandpa didn’t put much effort into it, Garland wasn’t afraid to say, “You stupid head. Do it right!” But he also gave my grandpa sage advice, as my grandpa grew spiritually. Eventually my grandpa purchased a study Bible. And when he did, Garland was quick to say, “Just remember: the words are inspired. The footnotes are not.” He wanted my grandpa to take God at His Word and not be deceived or distracted by the word of man.
Grandpa and grandma’s life changed when they accepted Christ. Becoming a Christian didn’t take away the family difficulties they had to deal with, but they had an everlasting hope. They had something to really live for. They had a new purpose in life.
As the years went by, they served often in church and discipled many young people. They also became lights for the Lord at their workplaces. Grandma was a full-time nurse, while grandpa was a full-time tool designer.
This last story is about a man named Cecil.
Grandpa had many coworkers over the years. He became familiar with their family life and their daily activities. It wasn’t unusual for him to pick up one of his coworkers on the way to Caterpillar. He didn’t mind doing it, and he enjoyed using it as an opportunity. However, when a man sees something wrong taking place, he has to decide what he is going to do about it.
Cecil was friends with my grandpa, but grandpa noticed that Cecil didn’t treat his wife very well. He would speak poorly of her, mistreat her, and sometimes downright neglect her. Cecil also smoked and drank often. He made life absolutely miserable for his wife. Finally, a day came when grandpa told him: “Cecil, if you don’t start treating your wife better, I’m not gonna pick you up anymore.” Cecil was slightly dumbfounded, but he also figured that grandpa had every right to say No. Further conversations took place between Cecil and my grandpa, but Cecil just couldn’t see himself for what he was. Grandpa invited him to church, showed love toward him, and listened to him. But Cecil wanted nothing to do with church or God. Eventually, Cecil’s wife divorced him and left him to himself. Cecil continued to drink and smoke as time went by. Unfortunately, all of that drinking and smoking led to cancer developing in his body. Before he knew it, he was hospitalized and nearing his death. Pastor Johnson from Riverside had been told about Cecil. So, he decided to visit him. He shared the Gospel with Cecil, and Cecil realized how much he had wasted his life. Pastor Johnson asked Cecil if he would like to get saved. He said, “Yes. But I want Larry.” Pastor Johnson was taken back a little bit, but he nodded and gave my grandpa a call. Grandpa made it over to the hospital and he prayed that evening with his friend. Cecil had made a lot of bad decisions in his lifetime. But this was the best decision he ever made. He was forgiven!
Only weeks later, Cecil passed away.
This whole blog is another sharing of God’s amazing grace. Did grandpa’s dad ever change? Some. Did my grandparents’ lives change? Absolutely. Did God bring the right people into their lives? Without a doubt.
Whenever I tell others about my grandparents, I’m always reminded of something so very true about my God: He can take the worst of circumstances or worst of people and change them for His glory. The same God who saved Garland Cruise is the same God who saved my grandparents. The same God who saved my grandparents is the same God who saved Cecil. And the same God who saved Cecil is the same God who saved me. God is so powerful and loving. He draws sinners to Himself. Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life and life in abundance.”
Because of the way that God worked in my grandparent’s lives (and in other lives), I didn’t grow up in an unbelieving home. I had the privilege of growing up in a Christian home. My grandparents didn’t have that privilege. Instead, God chose to use them to bring an end to destructive patterns in our family line. It was part of God’s gracious plan. And when God puts His foot down, those other things have no more place.
God brought a healing to my family that thick cream couldn’t heal. He gave His gift of eternal life. My grandparents received it, and now they know and belong to Jesus forever.
Just like my previous blog, I’m asking that you don’t Like or Share or even Comment on this post. Just take a moment and tell God how amazing He is.
To Him be the glory.
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