Grandpa Number One.
This grandpa was my mother’s dad, and I only knew him for a short time in my young life.
When I was a little boy, during the era of 1963 through 1967, we visited my grandpa who lived in Hamilton, Texas.
We lived in Dallas. It was only a two-hour drive to see him on the weekend.
Grandpa was married to my other Grandmother. Apparently, he had divorced my maternal Grandmother back in the 1950’s.
This Grandpa was loving, kind and was a good disciplinary Grandpa. I deserved some of his light spankings at age 7, and I respected him later before he died.
He died a horrible death. Lung cancer killed him in 1967 when I was 11 years old.
My memories of him when I was younger, included him taking me outside and sitting me upon the fence railing, and getting to pet the horses that lived next door. I do not know and never found out about his spiritual life. I was never told by anyone, to this day, if he was a Christian, but I can tell you, up front, that he loved me and was kind and tenderhearted.
He told stories about his time in the military, and the stories he had as a diner owner.
Soft spoken and full of “Good Grandpa” love for his grandson Joe.
His diner was in Hamilton, Texas complete with the round, red barstools, and the unique high back booths. A classic diner with him and my grandmother wearing all white, and a paper hat that was white, too.
He was the cook, bottle washer, and did all the dishes.
My grandmother waited tables and did all the money transactions.
Life was good with this grandpa, as I loved him dearly.
I missed him when he died, and visiting my grandmother, the widow, was hard as time went on.
Grandma Viola died in 1996 at the age of 93.
She was a believer in Jesus, as I led her to the Lord about two years before she went home to be with Jesus.
I visited her in 1994 when I lived a short time in Texas, as the Lord had healed my broken heart prior to visiting her.
The Bible declares, “Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of My love. Plow up the hard ground of your hearts, for now is the time to seek the Lord, that He may come and shower righteousness upon you.” Hosea 10:12.
I continue to hold a special place in my heart for her, knowing she was saved.
Only God knows the outcome of my “Good Grandpa.”
Only God has the Power in the truth about every human being, including Grandpa Arnold.
Prayer for family will reveal all the ground that was plowed up for the sake of the Gospel. We should never stop praying for our families, no matter if we know, or do not know the spiritual state they are in.
On to the Bad Grandpa.
I mentioned that my maternal grandmother had remarried in early 1960, and I never really knew her husband Tommy. I saw him on occasion, but I was too young to understand much from four years when I first remember him.
He was a big man.
Around six foot three and weighed at least 300 pounds.
The next part of this story is graphic and sad at the same time.
When I was about 8 years old, I was at a drive-in movie with my brother, and two family members who are young girls.
One was about the same age as the other and they were inseparable. They always played with Barbies, and every time we visited that family, these two little girls always spent time playing.
The movie that night was the original “Pinocchio” and my brother and I were in the back seat of Tommy’s huge Oldsmobile.
(I will not refer to him as Grandpa anymore because he does not qualify for that title.)
Tommy was in the driver's seat with the two girls next to him.
I did not know much about what happened that night until I saw two detectives show up at our house in Dallas about a week later. They were investigating that night at the drive-in movie.
It was apparent that Tommy had done the unspeakable to the two girls.
I remember seeing the plain-clothes detectives wearing their badges on their belts.
Visible and shiny.
I am 8. I do not remember much except there was an arrest, but no conviction.
I found out later in life what had happened.
He got away with his perverted acts upon these two 8-year-old girls.
Fast forward.
It is 1974.
My daddy was murdered in November of this year. I was a drug addict, and violent young 18-year-old.
Out of control, and angry at the world.
We buried my dad around November 19th and two weeks later, Tommy was in the hospital.
He, being a big man, and a heavy smoker, was having fluid drained off his lungs because of the lung cancer that was killing him.
He survived this ordeal and was back at work a few days later.
I had heard about his illness and was so crazy- addicted that I decided to confront him while he was at work.
He was the manager of Yellow Cab company in this Texas city, and I purposed to find him.
I got off work and drove to his office about two miles from where I worked at a printing ink company.
I had a .45 Automatic Pistol and was willing to use it on him.
Please understand as you read on.
I was a criminal, addict and violent in every way.
Like a time-bomb waiting to go off, I had already done four armed robberies.
I was not afraid to pull a pistol on anyone.
My intentions were to find out “if” he had done that dirty deed to those two girls some 10 years earlier. I wanted the truth. He was never convicted, so all I wanted was to know what happened.
I walked into his office.
I could tell he was weak from the hospital visit earlier, but I did not care. He was shocked to see me. He was at my daddy's funeral a couple of weeks ago, but I did not remember him that horrible day we buried my daddy.
Today’s date is December 3, 1974.
The time was four o'clock in the afternoon.
I sat down in a chair directly across from him and did not give him an opportunity to speak. I said to Tommy, “Did you or did you not hurt those two girls? If you do not tell me the truth, I am going to shoot you to death. Do you understand, Tommy?”
He hesitated and stammered his words.
I became impatient, so I pulled out my gun and pointed it at his head.
I thought he was going to pass out from fear. He knew I meant business by pulling out a gun and pointing it at his head. I was less than three feet from him.
He turned completely white as the blood rushed out of his face, and he was shaking.
“Did you?” I repeated my demand.
“Yes, Grandson, I did it.”
I screamed at him, “Do not call me ‘Grandson,’ you are a pervert, and I should kill you anyway!”
He shut his eyes, thinking he was going to die.
I got up and walked slowly away. I left him to decide his own fate. He did not know if I was going to go to the police with this confession.
Two days later, I was told by my family that Tommy went back to the hospital to have more fluid drained off his cancerous lungs. The stress and the procedure were too much for him, and he died from a heart attack.
My family from California and beyond were still in town because of my Daddy’s funeral. They had not returned home yet.
Now, they have another funeral to go to.
I refused to go to the funeral and continued shooting Dope and doing robberies.
I tell you this story, because I had thought for years that it was because I stressed him out so much when I pulled that gun on him, that he died because of me and the trauma I put on him that day in his office.
I never told the family about his confession. I do not believe they would understand back then or understand today. It is a well-kept secret that I keep in my heart to this day. It does not have any relevance to his demise, yet he did reap what he sowed.
If he was telling the truth that day in his office, (and I believe he was telling me the truth), then I know I put him under distress for sure.
I had no business doing what I did, and once I got saved in prison in 1977, it was one of the moments in time during my repentance that I spoke to Jesus about.
I needed forgiveness for much more than Tommy.
I hurt many people in my younger life, and I tell this story for a purpose.
I talked in a previous story called the “Domino Effect.”
Once the dominoes fall, they will do what they do, and we can’t stop them. A good decision reaps good things.
A bad one, consequences we may or may not want to deal with.
I reaped what I sowed when I was an addict.
I reaped prison. Hepatitis C disease. Asthma and many other issues mentally, physically and spiritually.
It is eternal law.
Whether we are saved or unsaved, we reap what we sow.
On to reaping goodness.
We will always reap what we plant.
God has designed us to be accountable, which is a necessary element of healthy living.
Those of us who live only to satisfy their own sinful desires will harvest the consequences of decay and death.
But those of us who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit. Galatians 6: 7-8.
Even after we have been forgiven, we must deal with the fallout and damage from our actions in our sins.
It may take time to finish harvesting the negative consequences from our past.
You and I have a past.
Your past, I pray, was not as crazy as mine.
But sin is sin, so it all must get under the Blood of Jesus.
Do not let your past discourage you.
We all have memories of what “not to do” that we did to reap a harvest of weeds in our lives.
The key is to leave it under the Blood of Jesus and not dig it up. It is forgotten by God as far as the East is from the West.
It is remembered NO more by the Most High.
True repentance brings memory loss from God about our sin.
Not all people are willing and able to accept our apologies or even willing to be forgiven. It is a two-way street. The hope is that we try to make amends with those we hurt.
I would have loved to apologize to Tommy about my ignorance, violent streak, and hatred for mankind. My addiction took me to a place, and the demons kept me in this place of no return. I needed to go to prison to be set free from my past.
I needed the walls and bars to keep me isolated from hurting anyone else in my path.
Jesus saved me and gave me His Love to give away instead of hatred for every person I encountered back in 1974.
I was saved in prison in 1977, and I have never been the same.
Tommy was a sinner. I realize that now and did once I got saved. He was like me, a sinner in need of a Savior. I just hope he had a chance to cry out to God in his hospital bed.
There were two different Grandpas in my young life.
Back then, one was good, the other bad.
The reality is, we have all sinned and fallen short of God’s Glory.
It is not about being good or bad.
It is about being forgiven.
Forgiven by the Only One who can forgive sin.
Jesus.
Peter came to Jesus and said, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered and said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.”
That would be, mathematically, 490 times.
If you truly forgive someone, you won’t keep track or keep count anyway. The hope is that forgiveness becomes a daily lifestyle.
We are living a life. We do things that become idols at times.
There is one more thought that I will leave you with today.
The thing you and I love the most, we spend the most time doing.
Can’t get past that one.
Spend time with Jesus. He is a good God.
Like the way I thought back then which was wrong. I thought I had a good Grandpa, and a bad one.
But I had two Grandpas.
Had I known Christ when I was 18, I would not have pulled out a gun and pointed at Tommy.
Instead, I would have pulled out a Bible and prayerfully led him to Jesus.
I pray for men in prison many times who are in their late 70’s.
I am approaching 70 now.
Next March I will hit that lovely number.
I watch, especially last Father’s Day, while preaching in prison.
So many men, fathers, and grandfathers live in guilt and shame for being in prison.
In my eyes, and I know in Jesus’ eyes, they all can become “Good Grandpas.”
Not two different kinds of Grandpas.
Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins
