Until last summer I thought being successful meant having a prestigious job, hordes of money, and great fame. During a 10 day period my grandpa taught me a new definition, the one God has in mind for us. Strangely enough, Grandpa did so without ever saying a word.
“Now, son,” Grandpa said (he always begins a serious talk that way), “this country is not going to collapse if something should go wrong with this oil field. It does’t produce thousand barrels a week, but, son, they hired me to be darn sure that it produces all the oil it can. As long as the good Lord sustains my health, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I expect you to do the same.”
“Grandpa, would you quit worrying,” I said. “You have gone over everything I will need to do a hundred times.”
For five days Grandpa drilled me on every detail of what I was supposed to do around the oil field while he was gone on his first vacation in 10 years. He took great pride in maintaining that oil field, which was really no more that three weathered tanks and seven miniature pumps. I thought his duties were rather simple, but I never told him that.
Once, near the end of my five-day learning session, I tried to teach Grandpa a new way to figure the oil charts that he maintained, by using algebraic principles. He was very impressed, but the concept totally confused him.
“Son,” he said, “your grandpa isn’t Alfred Einstein when it comes to math. You must be pretty smart though, boy, to know how to mix them letters and numbers to get the right answer. They teach you that in school?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “But it’s Albert Einstein, Grandpa, not Alfred.”
“Well, I am not him neither.” We both laughed.
While grandpa followed the ruts his little Datsun truck had made over the years around the oil field, constantly reminding me which valves to turn on and which to turn off, I wondered what he had been like when he was a boy. Apparently Charlie Leonard – that is his other name – was not anything like me. I wanted to make something of my life, to be somebody special, and to do something worthwhile. Grandpa seemed so content just spending his days working in the oil field. I could not understand. I finally decided that he had never been as ambitious as I was.
I was glad when the day finally came for Grandpa to leave. For the next 10 days I would have his house and the oil field all to myself. I figured it would be easy to fill Grandpa’s shoes; I was wrong.
The first morning I was making the routine rounds checking the pumps when I spotted a truck parked by one of the tanks. Not recognizing the vehicle, I drove over to investigate.
“Good morning, sir, can I help you?”
“You must be Charlie’s grandson,” the man said.
“Yes, sir, I am. Who are you?”
He got out of his truck and walked over to me and extended his hand. “The name’s Claude Waldrop; I’m Charlie’s foreman.”
“You mean my grandpa works for you?” I asked.
“Well, officially he does, but Charlie knows 10 times more about this oil field than I do.” How could my grandpa work for a younger man? I thought. I was obvious that I was embarrassed.
“You’ve got a lot to be proud of your grand father,” the man said. “He’s one of the finest Christian men I know. He is always helping others.”
I figured Mr. Waldrop was just trying to be nice. My grandpa was just an oil field worker; certainly Mr. Waldrop knew finer men by the world’s standards.
“Thank you,” I said halfheartedly.
After I gauged the amount of oil in the tanks, I drove home to call in the information. Promptly at 8 am, as instructed, I made my morning call to the main office.
A lady answered the phone.
“Good morning,” I said. “I am calling in Charlie Leonard’s daily reports.”
“Oh,” the female voice shot back excitedly, “you must be Mike.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “How did you know?”
“Your grandfather always talks about you, Mike. He really loves you. To tell you the truth, I don’t know anyone your grandfather doesn’t love. Whenever I’m feeling down, he’ll say, “Now, Bea, God’s word says, “All things work together for the good of them that love the Lord.” He always encourages me to place my faith in God. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Grandpa never told me about that part of his job. Slowly I was beginning to understand what he really did for a living.
That same evening, while watching television, I heard a feeble knock on the door. Opening the door, I saw a gray haired, withered old woman.
“Who are you?” the lady’s voice cracked.
“I’m Charlie Leonard’s grandson,” I said. “I’m tending to his job while he’s away.”
“Well,” she mumbled, “I sure hope the doctors can find out what’s wrong.”
I was confused. I knew for certain that Grandpa was not seeing any doctors; he on vacation. The old lady’s eyes appeared dazed; they moved aimlessly back and forth. Suddenly, I knew that it was she who was confused, for this was the neighbor Grandpa had told me about before he left. He said she was presently senile and had been ever since her husband died. He asked me to speak to her every day. He said a kind word was the best medicine for loneliness.
“I am sure he’ll be fine,” I said. Her eyes started to water. “I hope so,” she said, “he’s about all I got left.”
I realized then that my grandpa did not just spend his days fiddling around some forgotten oil patch.
He invested his time in more precious product – people. I had already met three who had been blessed by his investment, and as the days passed I met others.
There was the grocer whose son would not have been able to attend an out of state church retreat if Grandpa hadn’t paid his way.
There was the young man Grandpa worked with each day for four years teaching him how to kick a football. The boy later attended college on a football scholarship. Everyday I met someone whose life had been blessed by Charlie Leonard, and I was proud.
The day Grandpa returned, I rushed to meet him. I hugged him before he could get out of the car. “Grandpa,” I exclaimed, “you’re the greatest man I know!”
“Thank you, son,” he said, “but I just produce oil.”
“No, Grandpa,” I answered, “you produce love, a thousand barrels a week.”
As I carried in his luggage, I dreamed of being as successful as my grandpa someday. Success to me now is having a job helping others, hordes of friends, and great faith in God.
Stories for Homilies 