Growing Quietly
Chapter 3 — The Grandfather Gospels
Scripture: Luke 2:52
Late winter lingered in the yard behind the house. The snow had not disappeared so much as retreated, pulling back from the edges of the ground and gathering in narrow bands along the fence line and beneath the trees. Where it had melted, the earth was dark and damp, soft enough to leave footprints. The air smelled of thawing soil and old wood waking up.
Their grandfather, Elias Gray Hawk, stood near the open shed with the boys, one hand resting against the doorframe as he watched them take in the scene.
Near the wall sat a pile of misshapen boards of various sizes—some long, some short, some bowed slightly with age. None of them matched. None of them was perfect.
Elias pointed toward the pile. “Stack those boards by the wall,” he said. “Neatly.”
Tommy stepped closer at once, studying the wood. At eight, he was close in age to his cousin, Little Eli, but more verbal and always thinking through how things worked. He picked up one of the longer boards and frowned at the curve in it.
Little Eli didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the nearest pieces and tried stacking them on the ground. It wobbled and tipped.
“That won’t work,” Tommy said, practical rather than unkind. “You need something bigger underneath.”
Little Eli crouched, swapped a board for a wider one, and tried again. This time it held.
Elias said nothing.
Slowly, the boys began to sort the pile without being told—longer boards first, heavier ones at the bottom. Tommy turned a warped board this way and that before finding the angle where it would rest steady. Little Eli stacked smaller pieces on top, adjusting them by feel until the pile stayed put.
After a few minutes, Tommy straightened and looked back at Elias. “Why are we stacking these?” he asked. “They’re all crooked. We could just buy new boards. Perfect ones.”
Elias smiled slightly, but he didn’t answer right away. “Because someone once taught me,” he said at last, “that learning doesn’t usually start with perfect pieces.”
Tommy thought about that, then went back to work.
They stacked quietly for a while, boots sinking into the soft ground, wood knocking gently against wood.
“You know,” Elias said eventually, “Jesus grew up doing things like this.”
Both boys paused.
“Like stacking boards?” Little Eli asked, glancing at the pile.
“Like working with His hands,” Elias said. “He learned from His father, Joseph.”
Tommy’s attention sharpened. “He was a carpenter too, right?”
“Yes,” Elias said. “Joseph taught Him how to measure, how to notice what was straight and what wasn’t. He taught Him to slow down before cutting—because once you cut, you can’t put the wood back.”
Tommy nodded. That made sense.
“So Jesus didn’t just know how to do it already?” he asked.
“No,” Elias said. “He watched. He listened. He practiced. He learned when to stop and look again.”
Little Eli held up a board with a crooked edge. “Even when it looks wrong?”
“Especially then,” Elias said.
They worked a bit longer. Tommy adjusted the base of the stack, then stepped back to check it from another angle. Little Eli pressed a small piece into place at the top, then slowly pulled his hand away to see if it would fall. It didn’t.
Elias reached into his coat pocket and took out the small, worn Bible he carried with him. He rested it in his hand for a moment before opening it.
“The Bible doesn’t tell us many stories about Jesus when He was a boy,” he said. “But it tells us what mattered most about those years.”
He opened the book and read, “Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” Luke 2:52
Little Eli squinted. “That means He got taller.”
Elias smiled. “Yes. And wiser.”
“And people trusted Him more,” Tommy added, thinking it through.
“Yes,” Elias said. “Because they could see who He was becoming.”
Tommy looked at the stack of boards again. “So growing isn’t just waiting.”
“No,” Elias said. “It’s paying attention while you’re being taught.”
Little Eli tried one more board. It slipped. He stopped, turned it, and tried again. This time, it settled into place.
“There,” he said quietly.
Tommy smiled. “You figured it out.”
Little Eli shrugged. “I watched first.”
The light shifted as the afternoon wore on, warming the ground just enough to lift the scent of damp earth into the air. Somewhere behind the house, water dripped steadily from the eaves.
Jesus grew—not all at once, not loudly, and not in ways everyone noticed right away. He learned by watching, by listening, and by working beside someone who took the time to teach Him.
Elias rested his hand against the shed and looked at the boys—one thinking, one doing—both growing in their own way.
“Nothing here looks finished yet,” he said. “And that’s all right.”
The boys went back to stacking.
The snow would melt when it was ready. The boards would be used when the time came. And growth—real growth—would keep happening quietly, right where they were.
This has been Growing Quietly, from The Grandfather Gospel Series by The Cardinal and Dove.
