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By Grady Brown, Captain
Every year for vacation, my family made the two-day trip on Highway 80 from Texas to Macon, Ga.—all six of us stuffed into our Chevy sedan with no air conditioning. The only break on this long, hot trip was when Dad would stopped in Vicksburg, Miss. for hamburgers and a drive through the Civil War battleground.
Mom and Dad were both from Macon; in fact, they grew up across the street from each other: the Greens on the east side and the Browns on the west—yes, the Greens and Browns.
Grandma Green was in poor health—bed-ridden and suffering from back problems and cancer after years of smoking unfiltered Camel cigarettes. Grandpa Green was a Cherokee Indian who was a landscaper and upholsterer. He loved his chewing tobacco and listening to Lone Ranger episodes on the radio.
The Brown family—Grandma Brown and Daddy’s seven brothers and sisters—was loving and always laughing. Grandpa Brown had died the year before I was born.
Both families were raised in The Salvation Army and attended the Macon Corps. Mom and Dad were the only children who became Army officers. On those vacations, we attended the Macon Corps—looking forward to it because there were lots of kids.
Time passed, and many years later, we drove to the site in Macon where the old corps building used to stand; now it was a parking lot. Dad got out of the car and walked to the spot where the mercy seat used to be. He vividly recalled the day he knelt at the altar, laid his cigarettes on it and surrendered completely to God at the age of 16. Both he and Mom cried as they remembered that moment.
On June 5, 2004, Dad was promoted to Glory. He left me with wonderful memories and a legacy of following Christ. Thanks, Dad, for those vacations and for everything you gave me.
As a father is kind to his children, so the Lord is kind to those who honor him (Psalm 103:13)
