Granny’s Greatest Gift
Awhite Bible with my name engraved in silver came into my life on Christmas 1970. Granny was dying of cancer, and she and Papa didn’t have much money to spend on gifts.
I don’t remember much about that Christmas. “Santa was here,” my siblings and I most likely exclaimed on that Christmas morning. There were toys under the festive lights of the tree. We probably jumped around with the delight only children can feel after Santa works his magic.
The toys are long gone, but my Christmas Bible is still with me. It’s a bit tattered, and the silver letters of my name have mostly faded away.
I only had 10 years with Granny. I never heard her say a bad word about anyone, and I don’t think you could find a purer heart gracing any pew.
Most of the things that mattered to her are found in the Bible. Granny knew that the book held healing words for times of trouble, and that I would find comfort on those pages.
When my heart leads me there, I flip through my Bible, and I think I smell wooden pews mingled with spearmint gum. The white Bible is my most cherished gift, the one Granny knew would live on.