Marcus Redding's Grandfather

It was the middle of Friday morning and Marcus was on the forklift unloading a truck when his cell phone rang. He stepped on the brake as he dug the phone out of his pocket. The screen said “Dad’s cell.” He never called Marcus at work. Marcus flipped the phone open and said, hesitantly, “Hi dad.”

“Marcus, we’re okay, but your grandfather…” Marcus knew something was wrong because his dad said “grandfather” instead of “Grandpa Sam.” They always called him Grandpa Sam. He could hear voices in the background. Commotion. His mom was pleading, “David, tell him, just tell him.” Marcus’s voice darkened, “Dad, what’s going on?” His dad answered but it sounded like he was not really there, “We’re in the ER at Mother Frances…” The cell phone started cutting out. All Marcus heard was “internal bleeding…fading…not time.” “I’m on my way.” He didn’t even turn off the forklift or say anything to his co-workers, he just ran out the side door, ran to his truck, and ran a few red lights on his way to the hospital.

Thoughts raced through his mind as he zoomed up 110 toward the hospital. Images. The first image was his grandfather in a suit at the front of the church building, holding a Bible, smiling at Lauren as she walked down the aisle to meet Marcus on their wedding day. His grandfather performed the ceremony. The next image was one he had never seen, just one he imagined for three or four years. It was Grandpa Sam looking at pictures of Marcus when Marcus was little and he would take him fishing. Grandpa Sam would look at those pictures then look out the window and there would be tears in his eyes because he grieved over Marcus, how he had fallen away from the Lord after the wreck. Marcus winced. Waves of regret flooded his heart. The next image that came to his mind was crazy: Grandpa Sam armwrestling Lauren’s brother Eddie. And Grandpa Sam always won! Why was he remembering that now? He laughed even though he was in a state of panic.

He turned right into the free parking lot across from the hospital. He couldn’t find an open space so he just ran his truck over the curb up onto the lawn, not caring if it got towed. He almost got hit by an ambulance as he ran across the road. He sprinted to the ER. “Sam Redding! Sam Redding!” A girl took him back and pointed. Marcus slowed down and walked up to the curtain. He pulled it back. Everything was quiet. There was his dad and mom. And Lauren. They hardly looked up at him. Grandpa Sam was on the bed. His eyes were closed. A nurse was turning down the volume on a monitor that was making one long steady tone.

Marcus went over to the bed. He stood by his grandfather. Then he dragged over a chair and sat down, still looking at Grandpa Sam. Lauren came over behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. Her could smell her hair as it brushed his face. His dad and mom came over and Marcus stood up. They hugged each other in a quiet four person huddle. No one was crying. After a long while Marcus’s dad stepped back and spoke. His words came slowly but his voice was surprisingly calm. “He was alert to the end. He blessed us. Each of us. He tried to move his arms, but he couldn’t. He looked at me and blessed me, then he did the same for your mom, and for Lauren…” Now David choked up. He looked at Lauren as if to say, “You tell him.”

Marcus turned to his wife. She took a deep breath and took his hands in hers. She looked up at Marcus and smiled. She had never looked so beautiful to him. “His last words Marcus...His last words...He said, ‘Tell Marcus I am proud of him. Tell him to always pray. Tell him, 3 John 4.’ Those were his last words.”

Marcus sat down in the chair and cried and cried. Lauren held his hand. His mom put her arm around him. His dad put his arms around them all and smiled the sad but joyful smile that only Christians know.

More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.