August 4, 2012

The Legacy of a Statesman and an Angel


When Mama held me for the first time, she told Daddy I had my Pappy’s hands.


At 2 a.m. Sunday morning, I laid my head on a pillow next to my Pappy and held his hand as he left this world for heaven.


It was a holy moment.

Pappy and Grandmama were present and guiding influences throughout my life.


Their homegoing services were some of the most regal events I have attended. Hers fit for a queen. His fit for a statesman. Neither of them would have wanted such grand affairs, but their lives were well lived and indeed worth celebrating, honoring and emulating. The many people in attendance were only a small representation of the number of lives they touched.


Pappy was gifted musician, orator, story teller and minister of the Gospel. Grandmama was a modest, soft spoken, gentle and compassionate woman, with an eternal smile that radiated love. She was truly an angel on earth. They lived not for fame or reward, place or rank. They were not lured by ambitions or goaded by necessity. They were simply obedient to their calling as they understood it. Their primary goal in life was to leave a legacy of eternal implications. . . one soul at a time.


No couple had bigger hearts or deeper personal faith in the belief that Jesus Christ can change lives. There is no one on earth that can say my grandparents ever said or did anything ugly, condescending, catty, snide, rude, selfish, prideful, arrogant, hurtful or off-color. Not one person—I am certain of it. They were not perfect (though I’m struggling to come up with specific shortcomings), but they were continually striving for perfection. To be like Jesus. I can think of no better examples of Christ-like Christ-followers than my Grandmother and Pappy.


Pappy’s favorite verse was Proverbs 3:5-6. “Trust in the Lord with all your hear and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will direct your paths.”


Grandmama prayed Psalm 19:14 daily. “Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, Oh Lord, my strength and my redeemer.” Grandmama and Pappy’s lives were a testament to the sincerity of that prayer.


It broke their hearts to see people stumble in their walks, lose faith or fall out of relationship with the Lord. But they knew that condemnation, ostracizing, and treating the lost as outcasts wouldn’t let them connect with their souls. No one set a better example than them of loving EVERYone. They saw people how God saw people—as His beloved children.


No one, no soul was insignificant in their eyes. And they both had a gift for making everyone they came into contact with feel important and special. Even when they had little, they gave food, clothing and money to people who seemed ungrateful or undeserving. They brought the message wherever they were allowed to speak--from the stage of the largest church in the world (Yoido Full Gospel Church, Seoul, South Korea), to presidents, dignitaries and celebrities, to inmates at the county jail, to homeless folks in the shelter, to Masai villages in remote Kenya. They were loved and respected around the world.


They were visionaries—helping to transform Masterpiece Gardens into a first-class conference and retreat center; developing the Bethany Retirement home and neighborhood, a place for ministers to retire affordably in sunny Florida; building the beautiful district A/G office on Lake Parker; helping to found a crisis pregnancy and care center for teen girls, a ministry that has grown and broadened into Teen Challenge of Florida; serving on the boards of Southeastern University and numerous charitable organizations. They achieved great things here on earth, but they were humble and avoided the limelight as much as possible. Anytime the spotlight was on them, they were quick to deflect it and point out that they were just willing vessels—that JESUS should get the honor and glory.


Aunt Martha was in the hall during a shift change in the ICU last week. She overheard one of the nurses telling another “and there’s a famous person in Room C-3. Doctor Johnson. He’s someone very important.” He would have chuckled. Later, the nurses listened from the hall as the famous Dr. Johnson was serenaded by his 7 sons--gathered around his bed singing his favorite hymns.


I looked around the room at my uncles, aunts and cousins gathered to say goodbye to our patriarch. Moments of weeping and sobs would be interrupted by laughter and cutting up. It’s hard to say goodbye to a loved one. It’s hard to say goodbye to an era. How loved Pappy was and what an era we were so fortunate to experience. Memories came flooding back…


Our family filling up the party room at Davie’s Ice Cream Shoppe on Friday nights. And then filling up Jimbo’s or the back room at Western Sizzler after church on Sunday. And every few months, filling up their home to celebrate a holiday or special event. Singing “Come and Dine” before each meal.


Come and dine the Master calleth, come and dine,
You may feast at Jesus’ table all the time,
He who fed the multitudes, turned the water into wine,
To the hungry calleth now, come and dine.



Bringing my boyfriend—16 year-old Damion—to his first Johnson gathering and Pappy asking him to pray over the meal (in front of 60-70 people including several pastors). It was his way of seeing what the punk dating his oldest granddaughter was made of (I guess Damion passed the test). He loved to laugh and play practical jokes. He claimed to have inadvertently left out the “you may now kiss the bride” when pronouncing us husband and wife, but winked when I realized the omission and looked back at him before giving Damion a big smooch before we made our way back down the aisle.


The May Pole in their back yard that is now being enjoyed by Tim and Amy’s 5 kiddos. The 8 shovels, 8 rakes and 2 riding lawn mowers in his shedS—enough to put everyone to work. And better ask before you borrowed—that inventory was carefully monitored. Fishing with cane poles in their canal. Learning to water ski on Lake Bonny. Pappy feeding the ducks and the squirrels (and occasionally needing to be scolded for feeding the alligators). How much fun he had with gadgets from Radio Shack. Camping at Rainbow River every Fourth of July.


The fancy fuzzy wallpaper in their foyer. The secret passageway from the office, through the coat closet, to the hallway. Grandmama’s collection of teacups and tourist spoons—I always wanted the one from Africa with a big lion tooth on the end of it. The singing Billy Bass fish that hung on the wall near the kitchen. The big exercise machine they had in the Florida room that my cousins and I used to play on—you stood on it and it had this big belt that went around your hips to jiggle you into shape. Spending the night at their house and waking up to Pappy’s cheese biscuits. All those many times we gathered around their piano to sing while Pappy, HoJo, Dustin, or Uncle Jimmy played.


Playing football after Thanksgiving dinner (with enough cousins to have first and second strings). The kids table—and how the number of kids tables grew and the definition of “kids” changed as our family got larger. Eating chili, exchanging gifts (always involving books of Life Savers, sleeves of golf balls and $2 bills) and reading the Christmas story every Christmas Eve. That one big Christmas in ’85 when everyone got a Member’s Only jacket. Pappy never failing to tell the story of four-year-old me telling him that Frankinsence must be the mind of Frankenstein.






How he refused to wait in the car line at my elementary school—I wrote him this poem when I was in third grade:

He’s really a smart man,
He does what he can,
To do his grandfatherly part,
And I love him with all of my heart.


But I still feel the need
To hide in his back seat
When he takes me to school at Lime Street;
Because he goes in the wrong driveway
And I’m embarrassed for the rest of the day.


Grandmama’s butterscotch squares. The corners would go first. Then the edges. When I was away at college, she would send me tins full of just the corner and edge pieces. Her cornbread dressing and giblet gravy that no one can replicate. How impeccably dressed she always was. Pappy took her shopping and bought her the most beautiful dresses. And always made sure she was able to keep her weekly appointment at the beauty shop. She used to carry those purses that were made up of thousands of little metal pieces linked together. I used to love to run my fingers over them when sitting by her at church. She cried every time she prayed and always had a proper handkerchief tucked in her purse to dry her eyes. I saw her in jeans once at Powette—more like denim cullottes. “Look! I’m wearing dungarees!” she exclaimed when she saw me.


Grandmama found a way to complement everyone. I remember riding up in the elevator with her at the hospital. A grouchy, sour-faced nurse got on. “Which floor do you want” she huffed. We told her and she pressed the button. She got off a few floors before us and as she left the elevator, Grandmama said in her sweet little voice “Well she was a good little elevator operator.” One day, Lisa and I were visiting with her and told her how we loved that she found the good in everyone. Lisa jokingly remarked—I bet you wouldn’t talk bad about the Devil himself. She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and said in her soft Southern voice “He’s a rascal!” That was the most negative thing we ever heard her say about anyone!


Every few months, we would all gather to hear Pappy preach at a nearby church. We always had to stand as our family—taking up an entire section—was introduced. We helped that church achieve record attendance for a Sunday morning service. When Pappy retired, the Johnson Family Singers were asked to perform “Thank You” at Pappy’s big deal retirement celebration. Sure, we were the size of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, but only about half of us can actually carry a tune. We laughed to tears practicing the song and strategizing about how to pull it off well (and who should stick to lip-synching). They never forgot a birthday or an anniversary and always sent a card at the end of the month before the special day. Pappy had beautiful handwriting and took over writing the cards when Grandmother’s hands became too weak and arthritic to do it anymore.


Ahhhh. . . that’s just a few of my memories. Hours upon hours upon hours have been spent listening to Daddy and his brothers tell their stories (which seem to get a little bigger and a little more outrageous each time they’re told).


My grandparents’ presence, wisdom and sterling example made a huge impact on my life and were a huge influence on who I am. I recall that my decision not to drop my maiden name (I opted to hyphenate) was somewhat controversial around the time of our wedding. In the years since, it has resulted in mixed up introductions (“have you met CB, I mean CBJ, I mean CJB?”), and lost medical records, prescriptions and photo orders (“hmmm... I could possibly have been filed under the J’s or the B’s”). But it’s not a choice I regret. Growing up as J. Foy and Aline Johnson’s granddaughter has been one of my life’s greatest blessings. Keeping their name was a decision to honor the heritage I am so thankful for.


Proverbs 22:1 says a good name is more desirable than great riches. Though I’ve clung to the actual name, it’s the legacy that’s priceless. We’ve all heard of the son or daughter who inherits their grandparent’s life savings, only to squander it on self-indulgent pleasures and have nothing to show for it a few years later. I pray that I am a good steward of my name and my grandparents’ legacy. That I will also invest in the kingdom, through giving, loving and serving God’s children.


As I released Pappy’s hand last Sunday morning, I looked at my own.


What will I do with my hands? What will be my legacy? What impact will I have on the lives of my children and grandchildren? What impact will I have on the kingdom? I want to live my life loving like Jesus. I want to love the unlovable. . . because He loves them. I want to live with compassion. I want my heart to break for what breaks His. I want others to come to know Him because they know me. I pray the Lord will help me live for things eternal. Not caught up in ME. Because my life is not about me. And though my girlies and husband are my very heartbeat, it’s not about them, either. It’s about Him. And when the focus is on Him, there will naturally be an abundance of blessings, memories, love and laughter.


And Pappy, thank you for your legacy. Thank you for being authentic, evergreen and setting the bar high. Thank you for leaving me the most priceless of inheritances—a good name. I pray that your children, grandchildren and great grandchildren will not take our heritage for granted—that your legacy will be invested and reinvested in the generations to come and those loved and served by them. You and Grandmama have inspired me in my faith and have set an incomparable example to me of what it really looks like to live one’s life for the Lord and to keep Jesus at the center of your lives, marriage and family. Give Grandmama and Jesus hugs for me. I’ll see you soon. I hope to have a lot of fun stories to tell you. And I hope to bring a bunch of others with me.

3 comments:

  1. what a godly heritage!! that was a beautiful tribute to pillars of love and faith in your life...and so many others. their legacy continues. may god comfort you as you grieve the loss of your sweet pappy.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beautiful ......VERY BEAUTIFUL ! The girls will truly enjoy seeing this when they are older and they can understand their family roots. WELL DONE !

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for visiting our blog! We love to get comments!

All images and content Copyright 2008 - This is the Life! Blog / All Rights Reserved - Any copying will constitute infringement of copyright