For Grandpa

                Imagine this is the first day of school and the teacher asks for an essay about your summer.  I would start with the word bittersweet and there might even be tears in English class.  I’m referring to the sorrow and joy that blend to create the odd experience known to all as “growing up”.  If I were 15 years younger, I would be preparing to spend time with my cousins at the rural home of our grandparents.  In years past, we spent our time watching movies that were too loud for Grandma, consuming more calories than is normal at Sonic, eating Oreos and popcorn at the local drive-in theater, and swimming in the local river.  We consumed copious amounts of hamburgers, vanilla ice cream, homemade bread, and Grandma’s strawberry jam.  We stayed up too late, got up too early, and wore ourselves out entertaining each other.  We are also a very theatrical family, so you could pretty much count on there being a show.

                It is not easy to forget summers filled with learning to drive, fireworks, late-night talks, and too little sleep.  Summers that are filled with road trips, American landmarks, and a lot of sun.  Summers that sometimes include camping, cookouts, and imagination.  Summer breaks are a great time to reconnect with family.  I’m thankful for the memories made growing up at my Grandparent’s home.  I’m thankful for my cousins who are both spiritual family and best friends. 

                In addition to the special bond we formed as cousins, that continues to this day, we also sat close as Grandpa told stories and Grandma read from the Bible and prayed for us.  We listened closely as they debated the same things every day in their unique and loving way, waiting to catch the wink from Grandpa that often followed.  At Grandpa’s death, they were married almost 70 years.  

                This summer, there won’t be a crowd at Grandma’s house.  We’re mostly adults now.  A married cousin has a beautiful one year old son.  Another is about to marry a godly man, that Grandpa never got to meet, but I’m confident he would love as much as we do.  Cousins are on break from high school and college, in the midst of graduate school, work, or international travel plans.  As the family grows up (but not older), making time together is harder and more precious.  We rarely gather at the country homestead anymore.  The presence of Grandma, the love we have for each other, and the common love we share for Jesus tie us together across miles and bring us together in our respective homes. 

 

                Yet, the loss of our anchor in Grandpa is keenly felt.  His hugs and kisses, his prayers, his stories, and his spiritual headship shaped the lives of his 8 granddaughters, 3 grandsons, and 2 grandsons-in-love in ways that will be felt for years to come.  His love influenced the choice of men who have married into this family.  Boyfriends that Grandpa didn’t approve of did not stick around for long.  The last time we were all together before his death, his granddaughters sang to him:

“I want to marry Grandpa when I grow up.

I want to live with Grandpa when I grow up.

My Grandpa is the sweetest man that you will ever see.

I love for him to hold my hand and cuddle up with me.

If I could marry Grandpa when I grow up,

I’d be as good as any girl could be.

I’d wash my face and comb my hair and show him that I really care.

If I could marry Grandpa when I grow up.”

(adapted from Ron Hamilton’s I Want To Marry Daddy)

                These words are clearly not realistic, but it was our joy to sing them almost every summer as a reminder of how much we loved Grandpa.  The last time I saw my Grandpa alive, he wasn’t able to call me or my sister by name.  Yet, when Grandma said we were his beautiful granddaughters, he replied, “Yes, they are.”  He didn’t need to recall me specifically to know that we loved him and that he loved us.  It was just his way.  

                As we gather in a few weeks to celebrate a family wedding, we will remember Grandpa on what would have been his 94th birthday and his and Grandma’s 71st anniversary.  Even though this summer and all those still to come will look different from the years of braces, bangs, and butterfly clips (think 1999), I’m thankful that summers are still for family.               

Copyright July 28, 2014 *thewifeoflee*

The Grief of Goodbye

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. Hebrews 13:8 ESV

            I have said a lot of “goodbyes” in my short life.  It is disheartening to hug a friend when you are not sure when next you will see them.  Whether moving for a job or school, or transitioning to a new season of life, no one is immune to the challenge of letting go of loved ones.  Sometimes a friendship just fades, no matter the effort put in by each side.  Unfortunately, this side of heaven, we do not get to be with all the people we love, all the time.  I learned that at 7 years old.  

            The summer before 2nd grade, my family moved from one state to another.  The first out-of-state move of my young life meant leaving behind the friends and church and home I had known in the earliest, innocent years of my existence.  Saying goodbye to friends was a new experience of hardship.  Watching my parents say goodbye to their friends was harder.  I had no idea at almost 8 years old what that would mean to my life.  Reasons to move vary from family to family, but I hope that most Christians trust they are doing God’s will, as my parents did.  I kept in touch with my friends through letters and eventually email.  Unfortunately, now our relationships are limited to Facebook updates.  

            The summer before 7th grade, my family moved again, to a third state.  This time I was more aware that we were following God’s leading.  I fully supported my parent’s decision, in my limited capacity to understand our goal of pursuing full time Christian ministry.  I said goodbye to yet another group of close friends.  We had walked through our preteen years together and giggled over crushes.  Many of those friends I connect with through Facebook, but the beat of life marches on.

            Even as I struggled with the ills of being a teenager, I settled into our new home.  I had become accustomed to being the new kid at school.  The Lord is faithful to provide friends with similar interests.  I met my husband, who was first, a best friend.  I found the church I consider my “home church”.  I graduated high school, became a wife, graduated from the Bible college in my hometown, and made memories in all the corners of that beautiful city.  The best things that ever happened to me, happened in the city in which my parents and in-laws still live.  

            After graduation, my husband and I said goodbye to our precious friends from college as they went to the far corners of the country and beyond.  Some went to new jobs, to marriage and babies, to graduate school,  and other endeavors.  One couple in particular, that we had known since freshman year, went into full-time mission work overseas.  We are thankful for the one day each 4 years we get to be in their physical presence.  Our hearts ache for the distance between us even as we rejoice in the fruit of their ministry.  My husband and I followed God’s leading to seminary and the 4th state in which I would live.  We could not have known how that journey would shape us.  

            Seminary is one of the best things that ever happened to us.  It tested and strengthened our marriage.  We bought our first house and made it our own.  We met a lot of student families and stumbled along the path to find our closest friends.  We found a great church home only to find a part-time ministry position in a different church.  We love both of those congregations and they continue to bless us.  My husband studied long hours and we relished in movie marathons to recover.  We spent hours in the car travelling to and from our hometown.  We spent weekends with the friends that became our family at seminary.  We celebrated holidays, sorrows and victories, and growing families.  And graduation came again.  We moved again.  We went from being 5, 10, and 20 minutes away from our closest friends to being 8 hours away.

            We joined the staff of a church back in our home state.  Regardless of the sweet friends we made there, it never felt like home, and we learned hard ministry lessons along the way.  During this time, our beloved starter home was listed for sale and we lived with family and in borrowed lodging.  There are stories from those years for a different post.  When it seemed like we couldn’t take anymore, the Lord allowed us to find a home in the 5th state in which I would live.  Our home at seminary sold and we bought another close to the church that has become a family and refuge for us.  

            While we are thankful to be settled in a city not far from our hometown, our hearts still long for the fellowship of friends that live in other parts of the country.  One such family that lived 5 minutes from us, will soon live 30-plus hours.  They are following God’s mission for them, as we have, and it has taken us to different parts of the country.  Even friends we have made in this newest city have already moved on.  

            Saying goodbye to a friend because of a move is a lesser grief than losing a loved one to death.  There is richness in living in so many places, experiencing a variety of American cultural pockets, and having been blessed by so many people.  We consider it an incredible privilege to have loved ones in so many parts of the world, and thankful for social media that allows us to stay connected.  Yet our hearts still ache.  It is a reminder that we are pilgrims in this world.  A favorite Steve Green song that was sung over and over again in my childhood says,

“We’re pilgrims on the journey of the narrow road,

And those who’ve gone before us line the way,

Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary,

Their lives a stirring testament to God’s sustaining grace.”

(http://www.stevegreenministries.org/product/find-us-faithful-4/)

            I never want to be the friend that is so needy as to keep my dear ones from doing what God has given them a passion to accomplish.  I long for the day when we are reunited on this earth, especially with the friends with whom it seems like no time has passed.  I hope we all long for the day when we are reunited with our Savior and the grief of goodbye is in the past.  Until then, let’s live our “lives a stirring testament to God’s sustaining grace” and entreat as many unbelieving friends as we can to join us.  Godspeed, our dear friends.  We’re so thankful for you. 

~For my nieces and nephews of the heart~