Studying for finals are we?

It was 1997. I had just graduated from university and had come back to Lesotho to work at the lodge with my parents. At the time, my dad was still running the Trading Station, and the lodge was just beginning to take shape—we had only ten rooms back then. But it had heart, and we were building something special, one step at a time. There was no electricity or solar power—just a generator that ran for a few hours in the evenings. Guests lit their rooms with candles, and communication was a challenge. There were no telephones, no cell phone signal, no internet. My mom spent much of her time in Bloemfontein, taking bookings via phone and fax, and relaying them to my dad using a 2-way radio system connected to a repeater station in Dewetsdorp. It was remote, rugged, and full of character—and that’s when my grandfather came to stay.

That same year,  he had a major health scare—a heart attack - a proper, dramatic one that landed him in hospital for a quadruple bypass. After the operation, he needed somewhere quiet to recover, so naturally, he came up to Lesotho. What better place to heal than the mountains, with fresh air, no traffic, and minimal interruptions—except for the odd goat or two?

During those quiet days, something shifted. My grandfather, who’d always been a thoughtful man, came across the Bible and found himself drawn to it in a new way.  With time to reflect and a heart freshly reminded of life’s fragility, he started to read more and more.  Soon, daily Bible studies became part of his routine-verses underlined, passages read with care, notes scribbled in the margins.( And I can truly testify to this, as he later gave me that very Bible—and it’s here with me still).

Now, my dad and my grandfather were good friends, really—and they had a quiet understanding between them, the kind that didn’t need many words.  One day, my grandfather was sitting on the verandah – (the very same verandah we were sitting on that evening) deep in his Bible study, the afternoon light catching the pages. My dad had just come down for his afternoon tea break from the Trading Store.  He paused, saw his father-in-law with the Bible open on his lap, brow furrowed like a student before an exam, and without missing a beat, said with a grin, “Studying for finals, are we?”

And that was it—they both absolutely lost it. Full-on belly laughs, that kind of laughter that comes from deep love and shared history.  It echoed through the verandah, through the trees, and settled into a memory that still brings a smile.

So now, whenever I think of my grandfather—especially as we marked what would have been his 100th birthday—I remember that moment. Not just because it was funny, but because it captured so much of who he was. Thoughtful, wise, deeply spiritual… and always ready to share a good laugh with his son-in-law.