Grandpa Thornton and Little Stained Hands

My Grandpa Thornton (my Dad’s side) is an amazing man. Eighty two years old and full of life, love, and Christ. When I was younger he didn’t live too terribly far from us and I was able to see him relatively often. I caught my first fish with him. That same day he saved from what was essentially a mud version of sinking sand. Around the time we moved to Washington though he and my grandma moved back to Texas. It’s there they live now, in Telephone, Texas. I last saw him on a trip to visit family in Arizona. That was my junior year of high school. And it has been at least eight years since I’ve seen him in Texas. This Christmas though my family has been blessed with the opportunity to make a trip to Texas and see him, my grandma, and the rest of my Texas family.

I write all this because to be honest I don’t know a lot about my grandfather. But recently he’s taken some time to write a sort of memoir for his family to read. As I read it I find myself amazed to learn what sort of a person he is. Growing up through The Depression and WWII he has countless stories of unimaginable hardship. I’d like to share an excerpt from his college days. This story takes place in an extremely impoverished area of Texas where every weekend my grandpa would travel eight hours and do church. Talking about one of the families in his ministry my granddad writes,

“The oldest little girl was about 9 or 10. That Christmas she came to the church with a little package and gave it to me. As she handed it to me I noticed her hands; they were almost solid black. About a mile down the road was a large pecan grove; people would pick up pecans and try to sell them for a few cents for a gallon bucket. The dye will stain your hands very badly. She had spent several days picking up pecans, hulling them, and had sold enough to buy me a Christmas present. It was a tie clasp. I kept that clasp for years and somehow it has gotten lost. I wish I still had it for it reminds me of love. Every time, and it is many times, that I see her stained hands I see the blood stained hands of Jesus.”