Grandpa's "Faith" Story...written BY Grandpa

I just finished retyping the testimony my Grandpa wrote when he and my Grandma moved away from their hometown to give to the pastor who will be doing his memorial service. It's an amazing story and I thought I'd repost it to share with any who are interested. I did change the age to 93 (he was 83 when he wrote this) and updated the number of great grandchildren he had when he passed. Everything else is his work.

The Faith Story of Paul Yeend

My story begins 93 years ago when I was born in a town where the founders loved the city so much that they decided to name it twice.  That city is Walla-Walla, Washington.  Being the ninth child in a family of ten children I’m sure my mother must have endured a tearful pregnancy, but never the less she welcomed me with love and affection when I did arrive.  Large families are not very common any more, but I’m not going to knock the large family concept since I would not be here otherwise.  
My father was a wheat farmer just outside Walla-Walla but by the time I was born he had turned the management of the farm over to my oldest brother and had moved into town.  Facetiously speaking, I guess you could say I grew up as an “urban farmer”, since during my teen years I lived in town during the school year but on the farm during the summers.
My parents were wonderful Christians who were active in the Nazarene Church in Walla-Walla.  In Church our large family always sat on the second pew from the front and completely occupied the whole row.  My father passed away when I was senior in high-school.  He had just given a fare-well speech for Dr. D.I. Vanderpool who was leaving the pastorate in Walla-Walla to become the district superintendent.  After the speech, he sat down on a chair, had a heart attack and died.  It did more than break-up the service--it broke my heart as well.
I had a lot of confidence in and respect for my parents and the Christian lives they exemplified.  Very early I developed a conscience regarding my spiritual life and necessity of making a personal commitment to God.  However, I struggled and resisted.  Being under conviction I still recall suffering through many an altar call.
The years of 1938 through 1941 found me at Northwest Nazarene College where I was active in varsity basketball and various musical organizations.  In the summer of ‘40 and ‘41 I traveled with two different college quartets.  The spiritual atmosphere at NNC provided an environment that I really needed at that point in my life.  Although I was not a Christian, I respected other committed students who were living holy lives.  Finally, with the tug of God at my heart strings along with the urging of most of the guys on the basketball team, I surrendered my life to God in the college chapel during a revival service.  The decision I made that day still stand and undoubtedly was the wisest decision of my life.  
Lois and I first met when the NNC quartet in which I was singing was being entertained at the parents of Lois in Olympia, Washington prior to and evening concert.  When she enrolled at NNC that fall we dated exclusively that year.  Since I had the unwanted distinction of being the first NNC student to be drafted into the military service, plans were shattered for completing the summer quartet travel, for returning to NNC to graduate in 1942, and for marriage.  My induction into the US Army on July 8, 1941 was probably one of the lowest moments in my life.
Fourteen months later on September 22, 1942 after graduating from Officers Candidate School in Fort Benning, Georgia, we were married in Olympia by Lois’s father, who was a Nazarene pastor.
World War II was a horrible experience but I felt I was in God’s care and He acted as my protector.  “Be not afraid for I am with you” was a scripture that I claimed.  Early in the Battle of Saipan I suffered a bad case of dysentery and was sent to a field hospital for several days.  I was very weak and ate no food for three days.  When released to return to the front line, I waited all day for a vehicle to deliver me to my outfit at the battle front, but it never arrived.  As it turned out, the very day I was to be returned to the front was the ONLY day the truck did NOT make that trip.  It was also the very day of the infamous Japanese Sake or Bonsai Raid on July 7, 1944.  The remaining Japanese soldiers on Saipan realized they were losing the battle and were literally being shoved off the end of the island.  They decided to make one final all-out attack on the American troops.  It was a suicidal mission designed to take as many Americans with them as possible.  After consuming Sake and working themselves up into a frenzy, they attacked at the crack of dawn.  The thrust of their attack was down the beach where our unit was located.
By one day, God spared me from that attack.  When I did arrive at the location the next day, I was in for a shock.  My mind will never forget what my eyes witnessed.  Over five thousand wounded and dead bodies were scattered and lying on the ground almost as far as the eye could see.  Most of them were Japanese but our troops suffered heavily also.  I then realized if I had been there the prior day, as was intended, I very likely would have been one of those casualties.  God in His grace had spared me from that attack.
In that scene it was difficult to differentiate between the dead and the living.  What I thought was a dead Japanese soldier turned out to be very much alive for he jumped up and threw a hand grenade at me.  The grenade landed on the ground squarely between my legs.  The reason I am here today is because the grenade failed to explode.  That scripture reappeared in my mind, “Fear not for I am with you.”  You might ask, “Were you afraid?”  Strange as it may seem-I was not afraid.  A few minutes later while four soldiers and I were attempting to rescue two wounded American soldiers, I straddled a narrow trench only to discover a Japanese soldier was in the trench at my feet.  Again the Lord, along with a soldier at my side, protected me.
A few days later while on patrol with a dozen other men, we suddenly heard a tell-tale POP.  We knew immediately that a hand grenade had been detonated.  We also knew it was close and that it would be exploding in five seconds.  We immediately hit the ground, but this time I wasn’t so lucky.  A piece of shrapnel imbedded itself in my leg.  However, it could have been worse.  I thanked God once more for His protecting hand and for His abiding presence in my life.
My Army experience ended after fighting in the Battle of Okinawa and then on to Japan as part of the occupation forces.
God has been good to me and for me.  He allowed Lois and I to enjoy three beautiful daughters, three great sons in law, eight wonderful grandkids, and twelve great grand children.  God in his graciousness allowed Lois and I to serve the majority of our adult lives in the Longview church of the Nazarene.  Serving on the church board for forty years and as the Minister of Music for thirty-three years were blessed experiences.  Lois was also blessed in being able to serve God in various ministries.  Her special interest in missions was expressed by serving as Missionary President for thirteen years. Earlier she served as Sunday School Superintendent and children’s director.

We would like to thank the pastor, friends and members of this church for the many ways in which you have enriched our lives.  Your fellowship, friendship and stewardship are treasured memories.  We love you all but most of all we love God with all our hears.  It’s a privilege to serve Him.  Truly- GOD IS SO GOOD!

How do you say goodbye

I was waist deep in laundry tonight (trying to figure out which clothing to pack for our trip to Portland and which clothing to put away and mostly just trying to keep myself occupied) responding to supportive text messages and facebook comments, and sobbing.  My grandpa is dying.  He might have a couple of days, he might have a week.  Either way, I found myself trying to figure out HOW I could possibly say goodbye to him.  How can I find the right words to let him know how much I love him, how much he has meant to me throughout every stage in my life?  How do I convey to him the powerful presence his life has had in every decision I make in my own life?  Grandpa is and always has been my hero.  I think about all of the lessons that he has taught me, lessons that I hope to pass on to my children and to my grandchildren.

Grandpa loved unconditionally and with everything he had.  He loved everyone.  EVERYONE.  I watched him love my Grandma until the day Alzheimer's took her from him.  My grandma was a very hard working, creative, and thoughtful woman.  But she was VERY strong-willed and a bit snippy at times.  I never saw the slightest bit of frustration out of him...EVER.  I watched my grandpa shower my grandma with patience, adoration, and love.  After she was diagnosed with Alzheimers, I watched my grandpa create a routine that let life go on as normal for her (she didn't remember that she had Alzheimers).   When she forgot how to walk, he got her in and out of her wheelchair.  He picked out her clothing every single morning.  He did her hair.  He changed her diapers.  When she forgot how to eat, he fed her.  He did all of this with a smile on his face, and never once complained.  NEVER ONCE!!

Grandpa was a cheerleader.  No...he didn't ACTUALLY join a cheerleading squad.  He was actually a basketball stud.  He scored something like 32 points against the Harlem Globetrotters in his younger days.  But, my grandpa WOULD have made an exceptional cheerleader had basketball not been his thing.  I can say that with certainty because along with my parents, he was one of my biggest cheerleaders in life.  I can't count how many sporting events/music concerts he attended for my sisters and I.  He lived an hour away and still managed to make it down to cheer us on.  He made taking an active part in his grandchildren's lives a priority. And I know for a fact that he did this with his own kids too.

Grandpa was a teacher/counselor...both literally and figuratively.  He taught me how to shoot a hook shot (since we shorties had to have at least one way to score under the net).  He taught me how to yodel (although I can't REALLY yodel...but I had fun trying).  He taught me how to use a tuning pipe (which I definitely thought was a harmonica at the time).  I remember a conversation that I had with my grandpa in my adult life regarding disciplining children and I try to hold tight to his words of wisdom regarding this area of my life.  He advised us ( I don't remember who exactly was there at the time...maybe Christian...maybe some cousins) to NEVER discipline while angry because the punishment always ends up being handed out as "revenge" versus as a "teaching tool".  He talked to us about how he had moments as a parent when he had to send his daughters to their room and take a few minutes (or sometimes longer) before talking to them and handing down a punishment.  I strive to be the parent to my own children that my grandpa was to his girls.  I fall short...but I will never stop trying.

Grandpa loves to make people laugh.  One of the things I ALWAYS look forward to with him are his jokes.  I'm laughing thinking back to my childhood when my grandma would try to tell one of grandpa's jokes and mess it all up.  Grandpa would stand patiently behind her with a little grin on his face ready to step in and help when she couldn't remember the punch line.  We could always count on him for a new joke.  The laughs didn't stop with the jokes.  When he would walk into church and make his way to his seat, he would pass by people already seated and reach around behind them and tap their far shoulder.  This always resulted in those people turning around and greeting the people who were sitting directly behind them.  This was definitely one of grandpa's signature moves.  One of my fondest memories as a child was grandpa getting up early in the morning to make his grandchildren mickey mouse shaped, blueberry or banana cakepans (pancakes).  And he always knew exactly the right moment to break out his stash of mellowmarshes (marshmellows) to put smiles on our faces.

Grandpa loves God and is the greatest example to anyone as to what being a Christian is all about.  He truly lives a moral life.  He is accepting and supportive.  He is patient and kind.  I have never heard him raise his voice (unless he was singing...he had a beautiful singing voice and sang for a number of his grandkids' weddings).  This would be the lesson that he was most proud of.  The fact that no member of his family and no one who knows him would ever deny that he lived a life that would be pleasing to God....and not out of guilt.  He lived this way by choice because he truly loves the Lord and truly believes.  He is such an amazing example.

As I head down to Portland in a few hours, these are the lessons I will take with me.  These are the things that I hope to get out before my tears swallow my words.  Grandpa you are my hero.  You have led a life of which you should be proud.  I thank you for being so present in my life and allowing me to be human, yet loving me just the same.  I love you more than I could ever express.  May angels lead you home...