Larry VanHouse
This Little Light of Mine
Riding on top the Grand Marshal convertible with my grandpa in the Fourth of July parade in Morristown, Tennessee was truly the highlight of my summer in 1970. Or was it ’71? I don’t remember exactly. It could have even been both. In his later years, it was almost the town’s tradition that Grandpa would be the grand marshal of that parade. A decorated war hero from not just World War I, but WWII and the Korean War as well, it may have also helped that my grandpa was born on July 4, in 1897.
When the Fourth of July comes around each year, I can’t help but think of “Preacher Fortner” as he was known in those parts. I spent many of my summer breaks in Tennessee and North and South Carolina, learning the life, heritage, and legacy of my mom’s side of our family. Not surprisingly as a toy soldier and cowboys and Indians kind of boy, I was drawn to the hall closet where my Grandpa’s uniforms and war memorabilia were kept. There was something so raw, palpable, even tangible, a lingering aroma and texture of the wars fought in those uniforms by my grandpa the sergeant.
Before he even had a chance to serve, Grandpa was on a ship that was sunk by a submarine off the coast of England. He spent six hours adrift before he was picked up by a passing American ship headed to Boston. That ship subsequently ran out of coal and the passengers and crew nearly starved to death as it drifted aimlessly before another ship spotted it and towed it to port. A trip that should have taken three weeks took two months! Then, once he arrived in France during the first part of WWI, he was driving a dispatch vehicle at night without lights and hit a land mine. He was in the hospital, first in France, then in Kansas where he remained for 14 months and endured 23 surgeries related to those wounds.
That didn’t stop him though. Once released from the hospital, he reenlisted twice. The third time he tried to reenlist, he was turned down because of damage to his heart. He returned home to North Carolina, got a “regular” job, married, and fathered two children. But his wife died while the children were young, and with two small children to raise and little income due to the depression, he placed the children with their aunts and reenlisted yet again. But this time, since the Army wouldn’t take him back, he signed up for the merchant marines. During this tour of duty, he served in WWII and then the Korean War.
Grandpa was discharged for good in 1955, at the ripe old age of 58. What did he do next? Well, he entered another branch of service. Having been impacted over the years by his close calls and life or death rescues, and having given his life to God as a result, Grandpa preached his first sermon that year and went into ministry and served up until his death at the age of 92. He even preached a week-long revival in Texas at age 91 after driving his beloved Lincoln Continental there and back (he refused to set foot in an airplane). Near the end of his life, my grandpa was interviewed by one of the local papers covering his life and his newest missionary project – being the assistant director of the People That Love Center in White Pine, TN. In closing he said to the reporter, “I love everybody… God has filled our needs so we can help others.”
When my grandpa passed away, my mom and uncle went to the funeral, then stopped by his house to collect those personal, sentimental possessions of his that were important to them. Not surprisingly, only a few things remained, including a ring he had once pounded out of a half dollar piece that I treasure to this day and a worn pocket watch that sits in a place of honor on my desk. Preacher had given the rest of his worldly possessions to friends and family as his days wound to a close. Hearing that from my mom, I was reminded of those summer days I spent with him: watching in fascination from his front porch as he fed wild birds from the palm of his hand; going to the grocery to pick up a watermelon only to have the 10 minute trip take hours as he stopped to talk to everyone that knew and loved Preacher (which seemed like everyone); or seeing him literally give away his last dollar when someone came to him with a need. We used to say, “if you are going to give Grandpa a Christmas or birthday gift, you better be okay with seeing him give it away eventually” – that was just who he was.
“I love everybody,” he said. “God has filled our needs so we can help others.”
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13 KJV).
