Final Epilogue
Editor’s note: This is the last page of the book. Ron may want it held until the collection is out.
If you’ve read The Aunt Gladys Story, then you already know that one act of kindness can echo through generations.
Aunt Gladys never knew what those Sunday afternoons would become.
She never knew they would live on in the homes I built, the churches I served, the grandchildren I loved, the friendships I cherished, or the stories I would one day write.
She simply loved a frightened little boy.
Over the course of my life, I finally came to understand something I could never tell myself.
I spent my life believing I was searching for the third stall.
Instead, I had been trying to build them.
Every story.
Every lesson.
Every prayer.
Every act of service.
Every attempt to leave someone stronger than I found them.
Those were all apples.
If there is any legacy worth remembering, I hope it isn’t my name.
I hope it is simply that someone who read these pages chose to become another person’s third stall.
One day, when I stand before the Lord, I hope to wrap my arms around Aunt Gladys and thank her for handing one frightened little boy an apple.
If my grandchildren are there, I hope they’ll finally understand why Grandpa invested so much of his life trying to teach through stories.
And if Cheryl is there, I hope she’ll finally see the man I spent my life trying to become.
Until then…
If you ever meet a tired horse…
Give him an apple.
You may never know that your kindness changed generations.
— Rollin E. Trueblood, USMC (Ret.)