What My Grandfather Told Me 20 years Ago I will Never Forget

December 23, 2009

Paul Louis Wagner, born on October 18, 1916 near Clearfield, South Dakota, was the son of German immigrants and was raised on the family farm with his 11 siblings.

He gave his heart to Jesus Christ at a tent revival at the age of 16 and followed the Lord’s call on his life, becoming a minister of the Gospel.

Grandpa Paul died on November 28, 2009

Along with my grandmother Francis, they planted and pastored churches in western Nebraska and eastern Colorado.

Together, “pastor Paul and sister Francis” gave their lives to spread of the good news of Jesus Christ and his everlasting love for all.

As I’ve grown up, I’ve heard many stories of their lives. I’ve heard how they would drive someone to a far away city for a surgery, praying with them, waiting for them, and driving them back home days later. I’ve driven by churches that my grandfather built by hand.

I’ve talked to families that have said their lives were changed forever because of my grandparents.

CHANGED FOREVER – powerful words to think about.

Changed because of their love for their neighbor, a friend in need, a missionary passing through, or someone who showed up at their church who just needed someone to love them.

My grandfather passed away this November 28th at the age of 94.

I have many personal memories of him. He went to more of my soccer games than I can remember – both when I was a player and coach. I have a photo burned into my mind of him this past spring trudging across a field on his way to watch his grandson’s team play a game. He would sit there, silently supporting the boys, but secretly hoping for a tie so nobody would feel too bad.

I’ll always remember how he would play enthusiastically with my two daughters, rocking Emme or showing Jensen an important skill.

The day before he died he showed Jensen how to hammer a nail. They both loved him so very much and were always excited to see him.

Just tonight at the store Jensen asked if she could buy a Christmas card and send it to “B-Boppa” (as she called him) in heaven.

 

I'll always remember on Christmas day he would read the story of Jesus birth, standing there as if he were preaching to a sandhills congregation of years ago. I will miss it this year.

But the one memory I will never forget occurred about 20 years ago, while I was in high school.

He was visiting us in Virginia. We were in the back yard testing the strength of the new hammock. Lying there, I asked him if he had any regrets in life. I suppose I was waiting for a nugget of “I wish I had…” that I could ponder and promise to myself that I would not make that same mistake. I was sure it would be some wisdom to take away from his life, with a vow to not repeat the same regret of his answer. I remember waiting for his reply.

He thought for awhile and then said without any doubt in his voice… “I don’t have any regrets.”

It was almost as if he didn’t quite fathom the question. But he did understand, and he knew that if he had to do it all over, he wouldn’t change a thing.

As I live my life I take two things from this.

First, will I make a difference for Jesus in the lives of others? Will my grandchildren run into someone who says that my life changed theirs? CHANGED FOREVER?

Secondly, if I’m someday sitting on a hammock when I’m in my 80’s with my grandson - and he asks me if I have any regrets, I hope to say with a smile “I have none.”

See video dedicated to Grandpa Paul»