More From Hitesh J. Solanki

In my childhood, my grandfather used to take me to Sunday school on bicycle. As a young boy, I didn’t like it because it was at the same time as my favorite cartoon show. My friends would enjoy cartoon shows and talk about them, and it made me jealous. As a child, I couldn’t comprehend that my grandfather was plowing my inner soil, sowing the seeds of spirituality, and preparing it to yield fruit. As I grew up, it was my grandfather’s bedtime Bible stories that kept me away from bad company, harmful addictions, and making wrong decisions. His stories were no less influential than scholarly sermons. If my grandfather hadn’t shown me the path of Christianity, I might have been lost. He played a vital role in my spiritual upbringing.

In my teenage years, I was irritated by the many instructions my grandfather had for me. He would tell me words of safety as I prepared to go out with my friends, and he would stay awake until I returned. When I saw him awake upon my return, it made me uneasy. And if it got too late in the night, sometimes I had to tolerate his scoldings. But then in no time, I could hear him snoring with a sigh of relief. Although I couldn’t sense his love then, after becoming a father, I can. I used to see him as a strict, rigid, authoritarian father. But just as there is tender, sweet pulp beneath the sturdy exterior of a coconut, my grandfather had a soft, sentimental, loving heart. I can still recall how during the time of our financial crisis, he used to say, “As long as I live, you needn’t worry.” How comforting his words were! Even in that painful time, we could sleep peacefully just because of him. My grandfather also taught us to have a family prayer every night where we would read from scripture and say a short prayer. My grandfather left this legacy to me, and even today, we still follow this tradition every night.

In my youth, during my grandfather’s last days, he would become emotional and cry for no reason. He would want me to sit with him and share my day, but it irritated me, so I used to avoid him. However, after his death I felt emptiness without him and missed him a lot. Though he wasn’t a man of books, he was a man of values. I’ve learned a lot from my grandfather. It’s now my responsibility to pass on the legacy to the next generation. My grandfather might not have imagined how he was shaping my life; even I am unable to fathom it. But every effort in Christ counts. Though he was unaware of all the ways he made a difference, Christ knows it well.