Teebox, part 4: Cracker Barrel and the Heart-to-Heart

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part four of this story.

"Preach the Gospel wherever you go ... and if necessary ... use words!" — St. Francis

I find myself in my granddad's red Toyota Tundra on the way to Cracker Barrel. Accompanying me is my granddad, obviously, and my grandma. It is a normal weekday on a crisp October night in Amarillo, Texas. The sun is setting and it is just barely sitting on the horizon, so it is basically dark outside. I have just been picked up from my mom's house, and I could've driven myself; however, Grandma and Granddad have insisted on chauffeuring me to dinner. They do this to spend more time with me, and I realize this.

On the way, Granddad begins his little small-talk interrogation on the present day. Usually, this is kicked off on the subject of sports, no pun intended. Today was a throwing day in my rehab program (I am recovering from a shoulder injury from baseball) and Granddad begins with questions about how my throwing went, such as the usual, "How'd the throwin' go today?" and "How many sets of throws did you end up doin'?" I reply with the usual, "It was fine," or "It was alright," and I proceed to tell him how many sets I completed.

"So your arms gettin' better, ya think?"

"Yeah, I think so. Had a little accuracy problem today, though."

Granddad chuckles and says, "So your dad had to chase down the balls today, did he?"

"Yeah, but it's because he just can't catch 'em. Well, it's both, actually."

Grandma and Granddad both laugh, and Granddad switches the subject by mentioning about how the "Cowboys found a way to lose." We talk about our distaste for Dallas and overanalyze it just like the talking heads on ESPN. Even Grandma chimes in, "Even I saw that!" and tells her side from watching it on television. Then we talk baseball because it's the middle of the playoffs and my favorite sport just happens to be baseball, so I can't control myself from talking about it. We overanalyze this, too, and our opinions usually agree. Granddad finishes the topic by announcing that "one bad thing about democracy is that the dumb-butts can have a say in whatever." 

As usual, Grandma comes back with a funny aimed at Granddad.

"Now ... by saying that, are you including yourself in the group of dumb-butts?"

The evening goes smoothly at Cracker Barrel. Granddad and I always get the Sunrise Sampler, and the day is settled.

A few days later, Granddad agrees to answer a couple of meaningful questions that I need to ask him.

My first deep question is, "What is your biggest regret in life?" 

I'm 99 percent sure that I know the answer to this; even though I've heard it only once, I have never forgotten it.

Granddad kind of hesitates and struggles to find the words, and he pauses every once in a while. "Well ...ya know ... when I was younger ... I was a workaholic ... whether it was working on the golf course or coaching basketball. I didn't have much free time, so ..." 

He takes a really long time to utter the last part, and it is a tone that is whole-heartedly confessing, "my biggest regret was not spending more time with your Aunt Kim and your mom ... That's my biggest regret."

I wait awhile for him to recover, and even act like I'm still recording what he just said to give him some time to re-gather his thoughts.

My last question is simply, "What is the purpose of life, and why are we on Earth?"

This one is easy for him ... a cakewalk compared to the last one, as he is a man of strong Christian faith. "Well, if you're a Christian, obviously your purpose is to glorify Christ and tell people about the gospel, ya know? That's the main reason we're here."

He leaves it at that, and I do, too.

Next: Working Through His Influence