Paw Paw

The first time I met my husband's grandfather, he welcomed me with a great big ole hug. You know the kind of hug that makes you feel right at home. The kind that makes you forget that the person you are embracing is a total stranger. I was standing in the middle of his living room surrounded by pictures of smiling faces, most of whom I did not recognize. That did not stop him from pointing at each one and telling me all about the moment the photo was taken, or how many children this one has, or how that one had just gotten over being sick and whom was hoping to come down at Christmas. He felt familiar and he made certain that I was familiar with each of them. Because they were his family.

The first Christmas I spent as Mrs. Chaffin I was very sick! The kind of sick that sends you to the hospital on the eve of Christmas Eve. Strep throat! I was miserable. I wanted to stay home in bed, but this was "Our First Christmas" and I was not going to give up that easy.  So when I had been on antibiotics long enough to no longer be contagious and time for Nathan's family's annual Christmas Eve get together rolled around; I pulled on my bright Christmas sweater, pull my unkempt hair into a ponytail, fill the pockets of my jeans with cough drops and we headed over to Maw Maw and Paw Paw's for dinner. I will never forget the greeting I received that night. When Paw Paw turn from the kitchen table and saw me, he walked across the room with open arms and said "there's my baby girl." In that moment he stopped being Nathan's Paw Paw ...he's just been Paw Paw ever since.  And when I think about that Christmas I don't linger long on how sick I was, but instead I remember what it felt like to have someone else's family become my own.

My own grandfather, Papa, passed away while Nathan and I were engaged to be married. Until I met Nathan, I thought he was the sweetest, kindest, godliest, most loving man in the entire world (Nathan gives him stiff competition for that title, for now I will just call it a toss up). Papa planted a garden every year; tending that garden alongside of him is some of my favorite memories. Like the time the tractor caught on fire while he was on it, or how he got stuck in the mud and had to leave his artificial leg there among the tomato plants. And most of all how he always saved the first cucumber for me, because he knew that I think there is nothing in this world that taste as good as a cucumber picked right from the garden still warm from the sun.

About a year and a half after my Papa passed, we stopped by to visit Nathan's grandparents and found Nathan's Paw Paw and Dad in their garden pulling up weeds. We stayed out there with them for a little while and helped. Nathan's dad asked if knew the difference in a weed and a plant (that man is always giving me a hard time :) *wink wink). I assured him that I was country girl and that I sure did. Then I told them all about my Papa and his garden and my cucumbers. I didn't think much more about that conversation until one day that summer when Nathan's mom called and said that Paw Paw had saved the first cucumber he picked from his garden for me and to come over and get it soon. Never has a cucumber tasted sweeter than that one.

Yesterday we were laughing with him after church and he was giving the children a dollar to "Talk Mom and Dad into taking you to go get some candy."...and today...today I got a phone call from Nathan's Mom. Today they found out that Paw Paw has cancer. It started in his lungs, and the doctors think it has already moved to his brain. Today I feel heartbroken. And I find myself wondering if the man who has made me feel loved and treasured and adored, knows that I love and treasure and adore him. And if there is any blessing at all to be found in knowing that someone you love has cancer, then it is this...that you are given the opportunity to make certain that they do know.

If you are reading this, then may I ask you to please join us in prayer for Paw Paw, his name is Roy, but I don't think he would mind you calling him "Paw Paw".