ONE ON ONE

Considering the pace of our modern-day society, I consider myself to be very fortunate. My oldest grandson paid me a visit. That young man, age twenty-three and a college senior, talked to his seventy-year-old grandfather, all day long!

Over the years, I suppose we have had some twenty odd visits, usually with other members of the family present. This time it was different – this was one on one! Twenty short visits do not leave much time to have much effect on anyone. Therefore, I have had very little influence upon my grandson. Be that as it may, once we got past the usual pleasantries and weather talk we got into some serious, thought provoking stuff. Early on in our conversation, I began to realize there was a mystique in this thing we call heritage. This young man and I were able to share a kinship as if we had been together all our lives. It was absolutely amazing!

In the middle of our conversation, my grandson suddenly interrupted and said "Grandpa, I would like to tell you about an experience I had last fall, but I get very emotional when I talk about it." He had tears in his eyes. He then proceeded to tell me his story.

He was flying to Europe and they were about one thousand miles east of Newfoundland when the plane ran into some extremely rough weather. The turbulence was unbelievable – something he had never experienced before even though he was a seasoned traveler. This went on and on as if it would never abate, getting worse with each passing moment. He said he suddenly came to the realization that he was some five miles above the Atlantic Ocean, in an airplane that was careening from side to side and dropping hundreds of feet at a time into the pitch blackness. Even though he was in the midst of many fellow travelers, he felt that he was completely alone and isolated. The longing for home and family was extremely intense, and he felt that he would never see them again. The storm kept raging!

He said that he thought of Jesus and His disciples when they were caught in the tempest at sea and he began to pray. The storm raged and he kept praying – how long he did not know. Suddenly the plane went into another free fall, swaying from side to side, much worse than before. He kept praying for God to calm the storm as He had so long, long ago. Almost at once, the plane seemed to respond; in a few minutes they were back on a calm and smooth routine flight. He looked out the window into a clear moonlit night and saw a shooting star arch over the wing of the airplane. It was like an omen or assurance from a caring father. He was safe now and at peace!

Quite honestly, I felt privileged and honored to share this experience with my grandson. During our discussion of many subjects we explored the lost art of conversation. We agreed that our society in its mad rush for diversion and entertainment had simply overlooked the refreshingly pleasant and mutual learning process of a one on one conversation – especially between an old man and his grandson!

We talked long and into the night. I felt no sorrow when he left. Two souls had touched and we both knew that a bond of communication and trust now existed that no power on earth could destroy. We solved very few problems that a young man might face on this long journey into the unknown. However, I knew as he drove away, that whatever problems may come his way he could and would handle them well. After all - while confined within the bowels of mans genius - he had, through prayer, reached out and touched the hand of God and was blessed with his own private miracle - to have and hold, forevermore!

For a few short moments I had a feeling of immortality! Or maybe it was just that old mystique of heritage that is passed from generation to generation. Anyway, it was a blessing!