When my dad asked me to write this, I wasn’t sure Id have the strength. But it was Papaw’s strength I knew I could draw from. “Strong” is a term frequently used to describe my grandfather. Afterall, he willed himself almost seventeen years past his stroke.
My sweet “Pa-Paw” was one of the most loving men I know. A gentle giant, he playfully nicknamed almost everyone he met. How or why he chose “Fred” for me will remain a mystery.
He’d called to talk, knowing you’re not home. We jokingly say he had a speed dial list he’d go down until someone answered. He frequently patted the arm of his chair for us to sit and reminisce over new happenings in life. He was full of advice (even when we didn’t want to hear it.) He’d fondly wrap his arm around your shoulders as if you were a childhood friend he hadn’t seen in years. He always had a way of motioning you over like he had a secret to tell. He loved: well and hard. He always has. He had this quiet inner strength that multiplied over time with his devotion to the people and things that mattered most.
He was a big man, towering at 6’4 with a large build and strong hands. I’d like to say he had strong legs, but I wouldn’t know. Those that know him well, know the man never willing wore shorts a day in his life. It was an ongoing joke that the color of his legs would never catch up with his arms.
I recently heard a story about when a group of buddies swore they’d force shorts on him by wrestling him to the ground to make the switch. Needless to say, the zipper on his jeans didn’t win, but neither did his buddies.
Aside from my parents, he’s been one of the big influences of commitment in my life. He’s been married to my grandmother for sixty-nine years. The adoration and dedication the two of them gave to each other is to be admired. There’s one thing that will always be true: He loved her with everything he had. And she has loved him back. He decided he’d marry her at first glance and made the decision known. I pray my husband and I can love each other as long and with as much devotion as they did.
His commitment extended to his career. He worked at Poultry Farms for over two decades, but retired in his sixties after spending the last of his working years selling cars. I felt such pride last night as several told stories of the first and last cars he sold them. He had a way of making memories with people in the simplest of ways.
He was an avid supporter of the community, serving on the city council, attending meetings even after his time in office was done. He worked hard to advance small town businesses and dug his heels into building up the recreation department. The original softball fields are in place because of his tireless work. They are rightfully designated as Ed Saxon Park.
He never missed a game. He became Papaw Ed to many from those fields. You could find him leaned against the fence, Redman tobacco in pocket, and Bowdon ball cap pushed down right above his eyebrows. That is…Unless he’d strolled into the concession stand to help collect money or jabber about Bowdon’s latest news with whoever’s ears would listen.
Gis love for Bowdon often presented through his love of sports. He listened to Ray Garrett announce the ballgame every Friday night in the fall after becoming partially paralyzed. Before that you could find him pulling the chains or sitting in his trademark folding chair in the end zone, back against the field house exterior.
He loved this place and everything it stands for: hard work, loyalty, but mostly love and support for his family and the people of this city.
He cared about others enough to dedicate a lifetime to actually showing love, not just talking about it. I watched this man commit himself and his time to those around him. He was a mover and a do-er. He welcomed most into his home, welcomed himself in some of theirs, and welcomed all into his heart. As an adult, I now realize what an admirable quality that is.
Now, this is not to say he didn’t have a problem with putting his foot down. We have fond childhood memories of eating Hardee’s gravy and biscuits with him every single Saturday morning. He’d meet with (who we’d call) the breakfast crew: Ben Perkins, Elbert Yates, and Speedy Allen to name a few. This was a group of elderly men who wanted to sip their coffee and enjoy retirement by joking and laughing with each other in peace. My sister and I loved going with him. He’d let us order chocolate milk and play in the beloved ball pit. One week drastically changed the fate of those Saturday morning outings. While I put the balls up my shirt and pranced out asking Papaw if they looked like “real boobies,” my sister emerged from the bathroom bent over with pants around her ankles asking Papaw if “she’d wiped good.” We were not allowed to go to Hardee’s with him ever again.
For several years after his stroke, our family struggled to watch him endure after becoming physically debilitated. It broke our hearts knowing how active he’d been and how much he loved to be out in the community. But, He never fought God on the hand He was dealt. I don’t think I ever heard him question “Why me?” That’s not to say that hadn’t. But, he would never let any of us hear that.
We watched him live the last sixteen years bound to a chair or bed. A stroke took his independent, active nature and turned his time into a life of dependence and sometimes strife. But nonetheless, the man has never lost his love for others.
Ive come to understand a simple truth. His life has never been about walking, riding his precious lawn mower, driving to see friends, or sitting in the end zone for high school football games. Although, those things did reflect who he was.
His ninety two years were never been dependent on his ability to carry a hundred pound sack of chicken feed in each arm, or his strength to break a man’s jaw during a game of passing licks.
He never defined himself by the physical acts he missed out on. Papaw’s life was, is, and always will be about loving people regardless of his own circumstance.
No matter what his day looked like, you could always expect that familiar pat, a phone call just because, or a hug worth all the money in the world. His handshake meant something and his word even more.
I’m grateful for his example of leadership, faithful actions of love, and living out the words you speak. I’m grateful for this moment and all the time we had with him. I’m thankful for his infinite affection over the years, even when we didn’t do a great job of reciprocating that love.
That was him, in all his entirety.
Because of him, I have hope. God let us have him for all these years. So, I know of God’s faithful love for me. I have hope knowing He’s not finished with me, yet. Even on days when my heart feels crippled or I consider my life “mundane.” God uses our circumstances, good or bad, to shape the hearts of others around us: in the past, present, and future.
If you asked me ten years ago about the impact my grandfather’s commitment and perseverance had on me… I wouldn’t have thought much of it (let alone have much to say.)
But now, I have hope I’ll impact someone else as much as he has in my lifetime. I have hope I can show others an example of dedication and love. Why? Because God didn’t place us on this earth with little or no purpose. He calls us to serve each other. He requests we reflect His same endearing affection to all those we meet. If He used Papaw to touch others even through a stroke, what can He do with the life ahead of us, full of opportunity!?
So, I vow to use the time I have left to return that same commitment and love he extended to me and all of you. I challenge you to do the same. We have a chance to reciprocate the same love given to us throughout his lifetime.
I’m determined to run, not just walk, through the doors God opens… To make my life worthy of every breath and every moment waiting to be cherished. I refuse to ever again question if God can use me to impact others. I whole-heartedly agree to find honor and gratitude in each day, no matter the circumstance. I vow to offer love and service even when I don’t feel like it.
Papaw’s time on earth and commitment to others has taught me something: A life of obedience to God’s provisions is not a burden but a blessing; not a struggle but a privilege. To impact and love just one person with the same intensity I experienced from my grandfather…is simply a joy.
So, I ask you all to rejoice with me… to celebrate his new home in heaven and his legacy on earth… which are the people in this room. Those he’s touched, the hearts he’s warmed, the hands he’s held, and the times he’s reflected Jesus’s love to others. Thank you all for being apart of the memories and making his life full and meaningful. We’ll see you again Papaw! Fred will meet you at the gates!
house of stain 