A Letter to the Grandchildren
By the time you are grown, your grandad may have quietly closed his eyes. My blood pressure rises more easily now, my legs weaken, and at tall heights I tremble. Cells in my body that have served me faithfully have created a rebellion and delivered cancer to my vital organs. Sometimes I open the fridge and forget why I am there. So, before the inevitable comes, allow me to leave you a few pieces of grandfatherly advice, offered with love.
Be kind to small and living things. Don't cut up worms or swat wasps and bees, or catch butterfies—they need our care more than we realise. Without them, life and beauty would quietly disappear. Without them, Wordsworth may never have written Daffodils, Jack might never have climbed a beanstalk, and Matsuo Bashō may have followed his father’s path, wielding death with a samurai sword rather than bringing pleasure to many with poetry.
Worms return what has died back into the soil, feeding trees, flowers, and fields in a grand, mysterious dance of death and renewal. Wasps and bees labour hour after hour, pollinating plants and flowers, bringing nourishment and beauty to the human family. Think of these small workhorses the next time you see a rainbow eucalyptus or a bleeding-heart flower. Let them remind you that even the smallest lives matter, and that usefulness often wears humble clothing.
You are being born into a strange and difficult world. There is much good in it—but also much evil. Be careful with internet sites that mislead you, stir anger, or trade in lies. Rage is profitable now, and truth is often buried beneath noise. People, too, can be deceitful. Everyone has an agenda, even those close to you. Learn to pause, to question, and to think clearly. Wisdom rarely shouts; it usually whispers.
Do not confuse popularity with goodness, or confidence with truth. Many people speak loudly and know extraordinarily little. Some of the wisest souls you will meet speak softly and listen well.
Put your trust in God and follow Jesus—He will show you the way. The world will offer you countless paths, many of them attractive, many of them destructive. Christ’s path is narrow, but it leads to life. Read God’s Word daily. Begin with the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Acts. Take careful note of Matthew chapters five to seven; this is where Jesus gives us guides for life. Seek Him honestly. If you reach out for Him, even clumsily, He will be there.
Guard your heart. C.S. Lewis wrote, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience and shouts to us in our pains.” So listen for the whispers. People wander through life seeking pleasure in materialism and self-fulfilment and then wonder why God has not come into their life. Often it is because they never listen. When you read the Bible in your own private space, that is when you hear the whispers and know God is there. Go against your conscience and you will soon learn what it means for God to shout through pain. I have broken my femur, had part of a metal drainpipe embedded in my skull, and had a tooth removed without anaesthetic—but nothing is more painful than disappointing God by ignoring the conscience.
Be careful what you allow into your mind, because what you dwell on quietly shapes who you become. Avoid the traps of pornography, illicit sex, and pleasures that promise freedom but slowly enslave. Discipline may feel old-fashioned, but it is one of love’s strongest forms. Just ask those who have followed such pathways. My father died when I was in my teens, and believe me, growing up without a father is difficult; it haunts you throughout life.
Learn to suffer well. You will lose people you love. Dreams will fail. Your heart will break. Do not let suffering make you cruel or hard. Let it deepen you. Pain can either shrink the soul or enlarge it. Choose enlargement.
Read the books. They teach us how to be human.
Read stories that show courage, sacrifice, and redemption. Read poetry—it will teach you how to see. Read the old books; they have outlived centuries for a reason. Shakespeare will teach you about ambition, jealousy, mercy, and grace. Dostoevsky will wrestle with evil and faith. Austen will show you pride and humility. Dickens will awaken your compassion for the poor. J.B. Priestley’s An Inspector Calls will teach you how your decisions can have deep impact on others. The Psalms will give words to your grief and joy when your own words fail.
Books train the moral imagination. They remind us that human beings are not problems to be solved, but mysteries to be loved.
Take time for silence. The world is loud and impatient, but God often speaks in stillness. Walk outside. Look at the sky. Pay attention. Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.
Be grateful. Gratitude guards the soul against bitterness. Say thank you often—to God, to others, and even quietly to life itself.
Finally, remember this: you are deeply loved. Not because of what you achieve, earn, or impress others with—but because you exist, and do so in God’s image. You were known before you were born. You matter more than you will ever fully understand.
And in God’s grand purpose of paradise, we will meet if we are all faithful. As God’s word says: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.”
Image by Copilot
