Love is the greatest gift that one generation can leave another.

 I find I do my best writing in the morning. After a good night's sleep, when I am the most rested. But it is also the time when I make the most typos because I am the most groggy. My mind is racing with ideas, and my eyes can't seem to keep up. It is like I suddenly can't spell. 

Let's be honest, I am a bad speller anyway! I have never been a good one. Before my stroke, I had always been a talker. And as someone that could talk, I didn't have to know that pneumonia began with a "p", or that the word bicycle ended in "le "and not "el ". 

All of those grade school rules come rushing back, like "i "before "e ", except after "c ". And stuff like geography is spelled with the first letters from the sentence, George Eats Old Grey Rats And Paints Houses Yellow. I mean, who eats rats anyway? Much less, is particular enough to choose old gray ones? 

And this painting houses yellow thing, I tell you this George character, is one strange dude! 

Add to that, this program I use has its own strange quirks. Let's just say that it all doesn't add up to be my most productive time. Maybe morning isn't my best time for writing!

Recently, JeraLynn (my granddaughter) was assigned to write about an important event in her life, and she chose to write about my stroke. The two-page account, hangs on the wall in front of me, describing the three months we couldn't see each other, right up to the night when she was surprised that I was home. The compassion that she has displayed during this whole ordeal has been wonderful. 

I cried like a baby, at her take on the event that changed my life forever. This coming from a seven-year-old is a unique view of how she was affected. Who knew that such a young child, could be so affected by such an event? Again, further proof that the Lord is working in all our lives. 

JeryLyn, as my first grandchild, has always held a special place in my heart. I guess it is appropriate that she is my only granddaughter to point. And of course, I say that because I am hopeful that I will be around to see many more like JeraLyn. 

Her Mom and Dad work very hard to provide for her and her brother. They are good parents and are proud that JeraLyn wrote about her grandpa. I'd give her a standing ovation and a big hug if I could!

My grandson, Jase, is the younger of my son John-Riley's children.  JeraLynn is the eldest. That's right There's John-Riley, Jerica, Jase, and JeraLynn. All Js! Their pets too! I think they're running out of J names, but as you can see by the names of their children, they are not opposed to making names up! 

Jase struggled with school, in the beginning, but he turned it around and has really become a star student, like his sister. 

In fact, he recently won the Most Improved Student award in his class. It's a cool-looking, Olympic-style medal, that is designed to be worn around your neck, just like the Olympians do. 

He hung it on a nail on the wall directly in front of me by a picture he had recently colored for me, so I could see it well. He was beaming, and rightfully so, he had really put in the work! 

He stood by my bed, and gently, held my hand, and I made sure to tell him I was very proud of him! 

Then he went to play with his sister and my daughter. She's twelve, my daughter is 13, and he's six! 

Don't laugh, I'm older than two of my uncles on my Mom's side, way to go, grandpa! 

When the evening had worn on, and it was time for my son to leave, Jase and I both forgot about his medal, just hanging on the wall. So, later, when I was getting ready for bed, I looked up and realize that he had left it, I told my wife to just leave it there until he came back by so we would more easily remember it, and we were less likely to misplace it. 

It was three days until Jase came back over, and I got to stare at that medal, and remember the pride he displayed at having won that medal, and the joy he relayed that it was because of the hard work he had put in. 

When he got there, I called him into my room, pointed to my wall, and asked if he had forgotten anything? He looked at the wall, and then at me, and blankly shook his head. I looked at him with amazement and wondered how he didn't see his medal, it was right in front of his face! I typed out the words "Your medal silly. "into my keyboard. He again gave me a blank stare, and explained to me that the medal was mine now as I was his most improved grandpa! 

Thinking about it, still makes me break down and cry. 

How can you possibly deny the existence of a God, in the face of a six-year-old, having that much compassion towards another human being? 

I know I'm his grandpa but at the age of six, most days he's worried about where some toy or another is, or fighting with his sister over who gets the chocolate and who gets the vanilla pudding cups. 

That medal still hangs on the wall in front of me, over some random picture he colored for me. It is one of my prized possessions, along with some artwork, that my daughter has done for me. 

They serve as a constant reminder that God is always in my life. It may not be the life I had planned for me, but I plan on making lemonade out of lemons!