Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Grandpa's Bible Psalm 8




My Grandfather’s Bible

Grandpa’s Bible always sat on the living room coffee table, on top a glossy picture book of Russia. 

In the evening after supper as the house quieted and cooled down while night took full hold of the day, he would quietly bend forward and pick up his Bible and read.

I was four or five, young enough to ask questions unfiltered by fear, embarrassment and pride.  Young enough to expect an answer as wonderful and loving as my Grandfather.

“What do you read, will you read to me?”

This memory is clear, frozen in time rich with love and family.

Grandpa continued in his forward motion and picking up his Bible opened the pages.  He settled back comfortable in his overstuffed living room chair and smiled.

“I read the Bible and yes I will read to you”  



Psalm 8
1 To the Chief Musician. On the instrument of Gath. A Psalm of David. O Lord, our Lord, How excellent is Your name in all the earth, Who have set Your glory above the heavens!
2 Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have ordained strength, Because of Your enemies, That You may silence the enemy and the avenger.
3 When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, The moon and the stars, which You have ordained,
4 What is man that You are mindful of him, And the son of man that You visit him?
5 For You have made him a little lower than the angels, And You have crowned him with glory and honor.
6 You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands; You have put all things under his feet,
7 All sheep and oxen-- Even the beasts of the field,
8 The birds of the air, And the fish of the sea That pass through the paths of the seas.
9 O Lord, our Lord, How excellent is Your name in all the earth!

How can I know this is what he read to me?  Because at five I heard, Out of the mouth of babies the Lord is excellent,” and in that moment I knew my Creator.

I knew my God to be a friend because children like me named him as excellent.

I knew that children were important because this is what I heard Grandpa read at night.

Years later I would hear Psalm 8 again and knew this to be what Grandpa read to me one Friday evening after supper as the house settled into the comfortable silence of evening.


Grandma Snyder
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