My Grandpa Called Me Heidi by Holly D. Sands

Occasionally, I'd like to take a step back from my normal posts and honor certain people that have had great influence on my life. Two of the most significant people in my life were my maternal grandparents: James & Audrey Bonson. 

I will definitely return to speak of my grandmother in the future, but today, I want to focus on my grandfather.

Grandpa was born in 1907 as James Nicholas Bonfiglio to Charles Vincent Bonfiglio of Burgio, Provincia di Agrigento, Sicilia, Italy & Emmanuella Giaconne-Bonfiglio of Palermo, Città Metropolitana di Palermo, Sicilia, Italy.  He had three brothers (John, Phillip & Joseph) and three sisters (Rose, Grace - John's twin - & Mary). 

At an early age, Grandpa entered the United States Marine Corp. It was his desire to move into the commissioned officer ranks, but he had two things working against him: (1) He was Italian and (2) He was Roman Catholic. The prejudices that worked against him on both fronts, created a very difficult uphill battle for advancement. So, he changed his last name from Bonfiglio (meaning, good son) to Bonson (meaning, good man). 

He served in World War II and the Korean War in the Asiatic Pacific Area, Guam, Japan, Panama, Haiti, and the Pacific Theatre of Operations. He retired as an United States Marine Captain in 1953. 

In 1941, my grandpa married the very beautiful Audrey Josephine Goring and they had two children (James Joseph & Joyce Ann - my mother). 

Grandpa was tough and really rough around the edges. He had a very difficult life. Between that and all the combat he was involved in during wartime, I believe it created an anger in him that he did not know how to deal with. 

But he always told me, "Then you came along." He did not treat me in the same way he treated others. He told me I won his heart from the very beginning. He nicknamed me Heidi based on the book by Johanna Spyri. In the book, "a 5 year old girl ends up living with her grandfather - a man who'd been angry at God and at war with the whole village for years. Her sharp mind and sunny disposition wore him down, and he genuinely came to love her." This was very much like what happened with Grandpa and I. 

I remember this as if it was yesterday. I, myself, was probably about 5 years old and I would always like to look at the comic section of the newspaper. We called them "the funny papers". Of course, I couldn't read and I'd always want Grandpa to read them to me. He would sit me on his knee and we would laugh and laugh. This particular day, I asked him, "Grandpa, will you teach me to read?" I held out the funny papers, pointing to the "Little Orphan Annie" comic strip. He said, "Sure honey," and he got up from his chair and pulled down a book from his library. The book was William Shakespeare! He told me to come sit on his knee and he opened the little red book and we began sounding out words. As I progressed in my reading, he introduced me to the poetry of Robert Browning, who still to this day, is my favorite poet. He introduced all the "greats" of literature to me and instilled in me a great love of reading. He made it sound so wonderful when he said, "When you read a book, you can use your imagination to create what the world looks like to you in that story. You create the characters. The reader is the true master of the story."  

As mentioned, my grandfather was Roman Catholic, but I don't recall him ever attending mass. His son, James Joseph was murdered when he tried to protect another man who was being bullied. And every day, Grandpa would read the Bible for him, hoping that it would help release him from purgatory. So sad, but that was a ritual he kept all his life. He knew what the Bible said, because he read it every day for 27 years, but he really didn't understand what it meant for him. 

When I got saved I shared the gospel with him every opportunity I had - and we argued over the Bible - frequently. Ultimately, it came down to that he really did not believe what he had been reading all those years. He had a head full of knowledge, but his heart was so sadly empty. I think he trusted more in that Webster's New World Dictionary (College Edition, © 1951 from the World Publishing Company) that he kept on his side table. I promise you, no matter what question we had, he could find the answer in that dictionary! It became a family joke. 

At some point, I had given him this tract called This Was Your Life, from Chick Publications. It's about a man who dies of a heart attack and finds himself standing before God in heaven. God shows the man everything he did, said, and thought before him on a large screen. The man thought he was a good person and his goodness would surely make him right with God. 

However, God showed him that his goodness was not enough to erase his sins. Repentance and faith in Jesus is the only way to be saved. The man's name was not found in the Book of Life and the angels lead him away to eternal damnation. At the end of the tract is a prayer that leads you to repentance and faith in Christ. 

I recall asking him if he read the tract that I gave him. He replied, "Honey, I have prayed that prayer at the back of that little book every single day." I gently tried to explain to him that this prayer was not something to be recited like a rosary. It was something to lead him to the feet of Jesus in true repentance for his life of sin and to recognize that the only way to heaven was through faith in His Name. 

Years passed and I went off to college in another state. Just three years after graduating, my grandpa was dying and he began asking my mother to call for me to come home because he knew he was going to pass. I got on a flight immediately and entered his home. He was sitting in his chair, barely breathing (Hospice had been attending him). The nurse told me he probably would not recognize me and could no longer speak. I asked to be left alone with him. When I walked into the living room, I saw his eyes light up! Oh yes, he indeed recognized me AND he smiled! I sat on my knees before him and took his hand. He seemed so relieved. It was like he was saying, “At last, my Heidi is here, I can go in peace now.” Suddenly, my grandfather, who was incapacitated, sat up at attention and looked up toward the ceiling behind me and began talking in, what sounded like Italian. I knew he was seeing the heavenly realm. His eyes were sparkling. I knew at the moment - for certain - that he had come to a saving knowledge with the God he had wrestled with for so many years. I told him I loved him and that I would see him again. He breathed in deeply…and then he never breathed back out. His spirit had left his body and he was at home in Heaven.

All those years he'd known the words of the Bible, but never the God behind those words. He had chosen the name "good man" (Bonson) for most of his life, but no name, and no goodness of his own, was ever going to be enough to cover his sin. Only Christ's righteousness could do that. Somewhere along the way, the Lord revealed Himself to my Grandpa. There was strong evidence of that at his passing. 

Today marks 31 years since Grandpa entered the heavenly realm. There are not many days that go by that I do not think of him. I miss him so much and look forward to being reunited with him in eternal celebration of our great God and Savior - Jesus Christ! 

I have no doubt he'll be smiling and calling out "Heidi!" the moment I get there.

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About the Author

Holly D. Sands has walked with Christ since 1983. She writes at He is My Song, helping fellow believers walk faithfully through every season with biblical encouragement, sound doctrine, and honest reflection.  She lives in South Carolina, where she and her husband, Shane Sands, are members of a local Baptist church. Shane's been called by God as an evangelist and leads United in Christ Jesus ministry. At home, they're joined by their idiot cat, Mister Bojangles, whose main contribution to the household is sleeping and eating treats.

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