|Grandad in 1984
Meet my grandad, S.E. Fosket. He was born in Missouri (he'd say "Missour-ah") in 1897 and moved to the Horse Heaven Hills of eastern Washington as a boy. The S.E. stood for Samuel Etna. Even though Grandad only ever went by Etna, we named our Samuel for him.
Grandad was a preacher. When he preached about Heaven his eyes would light up and even his bald head would seem to shine with the joy he expressed in his anticipation of Heaven. Because of Grandad's radiant hope, I learned early to not fear death and what it holds for believers in Christ. Heaven offers a strong draw for me.
Grandad wasn't very tall, maybe five feet, six inches or so. Neither were Grandma or Dad's two sisters. Where did my dad get his height, I wonder! He was six-feet-two! Before my brother Tom had his growth spurt I remember him complaining to Mom. "I wan't to be a preacher, but I'm too short. I need to be tall to preach." "Grandad's not tall, and he's a good preacher," Mom replied. That was enough to satisfy Tom.
After his retirement, Grandad built a house at Warm Beach Camp. All the counters were low, just for Grandma. His garden was spectacular. And he played a mean game of Dominoes.
I remember him helping Dad as we were adding on to our house. Grandad was in the bathroom, nailing away, when suddenly the hammer smacked him a good one. "Oh, baby!" was all he said.
One of my fondest memories of Grandad was the way he'd gather the family around and pray for us as we were headed out the door. The way my dad does now when we are gathered around the table just before we eat, not just a perfunctory prayer but a heart-felt prayer of blessing on the people God has entrusted him with.
I know you would have loved my grandad if you'd had a chance to meet him. But you can see him in Heaven!