103 years ago a very special human being was born into the Oliver family. His name was Benjamin Franklin Oliver Sr. He is a 4th generation Oliver from the Oliver's of Cades Cove (which makes me a 6th generation). I affectionately called him PaPa (that's how he spelled it). He led a very full life. He worked the fields as a young kid singing hymns my great grandparents taught him. He knew what hard work was and how to live off the land. They had to in order to survive. When he was a young man , he went into the Army and was in WWII. He was severely wounded when a bomb exploded behind him running to a fox hole. The bomb took his best friend.
He was transported to Germany for many surgeries to remove shrapnel from the back of his neck. His two hands were severely burned along with other parts of his body. He lost several fingers on one hand and the other was nerve damage and left it crippled. He learned to write left handed. My grandmother received news that he had been wounded in action and went for a year not knowing if he was alive or dead. She got word a yr later where he was and they sent her a train ticket to come to where he was recovering. My PaPa made a promise to God that if he let him live to see his family that he would serve him the rest of his life and that's exactly what he did. He surrendered to preach. He loved the Lord and his family and lived his life loving others enough to save their souls. He preached until his health couldn't hold up. He loved my grandmother with a devotion and passion like no other. He raised his kids to love the Lord. His love and knowledge has been passed down to all of us. I learned so much as a kid as I would spend summers and basically anytime I could with my grandparents. I loved seeing him behind a pulpit. That's just where he belonged. My grandmother would brag about how handsome he was. And she was right. Happy Birthday in Heaven PaPa. I love and miss you. I sure could use some of your advice now a days.
He's a true hero. You wrote a nice tribute!
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