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.

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