Our most vivid memories are happy times with family, especially grandparents. How they live their faith in Jesus is one bright, warm memory they leave behind.

It was my 25th birthday. My boss laughed as I lamented that I was halfway to halfway to 100—and my, that's so old! I was recalling my last birthday when two good friends showed up and proudly presented me with a pineapple and a balloon bouquet—rationalizing that it wouldn't be appropriate to bring me flowers since I work at a flower shop. When the office phone rang for the umpteenth time that afternoon, I picked it up with my usual, "Garden Gate. This is Laura. How can I help you?"

"Is this the birthday girl?" my mom asked. When I confirmed that I was, she wished me a very happy birthday . . . and said that she also needed to tell me that my grandpa was celebrating his first birthday in heaven. He had died earlier that day. 

We had known Grandpa's time was coming soon. He had been ill for the greater part of my life. Now he was himself again—happy at Jesus' side. As I finished out the workday and spent the evening on the phone receiving birthday wishes, I couldn't help but hope that the years of life ahead of me would pass quickly so that I could meet Grandpa again in heaven. 

In 1997 I wrote this for a high school composition class: My grandparents' farm was one of my favorite places in the world. There were always plenty of cousins with whom to get into mischief. We'd chase farm cats through the hayloft and jump into the bins of cotton seed. I was amazed by the bravery of my cousins ducking under the barbed-wire fences into the cow pasture and disgusted when they let the baby calves suck their fists! I remember when one of my cousins, attempting to jump over the manure pit, ended up down in it, looking and smelling as bad as the cow pies into which Grandpa threatened to drop us.

Grandpa was the best part of the farm. He was built into it—belonged there. I loved to watch him do his chores in his manure-covered boots and seed company caps. I never could tell when he was serious and when he was joking because he blended the two so well. I recall one year when he had me convinced that we were going to skip Christmas presents! He always made sure we grandkids got our rightful birthday spankings.