Two years ago this week, I lost my hero.
After several long years and even harder recent months, my family and I sat there in his room in Redmond hospital, sharing stories of his camping trip hijinks, his knee high socks, and his endless funny faces. We tried not to cry, because we already knew what was to come later that night. At eleven o'clock in the evening, we said goodbye to my grandfather, Jimmy Stewart.
As hard as it is for me to right this post, I know it must be done. My grandfather was an incredible man, and he deserves a shoutout, no matter how informal it may come. He inspired this post.
My grandfather was a special man. He was the president of the local Shriners, active at his church, made everyone feel like family, and made it to every one of my home tennis matches. He suffered from a long battle with prostate cancer and other illnesses, but did so with a crooked smile on his face and with only minimal name calling towards the nurses and our family. When cancer finally won its battle, my grandfather had gave a heck of a fight. As long I was alive he walked through life as if he ruled the world. For that reason, I will always think of him as the strongest man I have ever known.
As a Christian, I am always asked how I can believe in and worship a God who allows loved ones to die. Honestly, I used to wave away this question, not giving it much thought. When my grandfather passed away, however, I went through a huge battle with my faith. I began to question God. I was so angry with him, furious that he took away my favorite man in the world. Granddaddy had always promised me that he would be there, and I believed that God interrupted that. I didn't admit my doubt to anyone, though, because I was so ashamed at my lack of understanding. No matter how upset I was though, I couldn't shake it. My grandfather would never see another tennis match, watch me graduate, come to visit me at UGA, see me get married, or hold his great-grandchild. I could never again go to his house and just watch cheesy television shows and eat my weight in cornbread while he slept in his recliner. How could God do that to me?
With all things great come also great tragedy. Christianity is one of those things where we put all of our faith into this invisible God, trusting that He will make something good. We ask for ridiculous things to happen, and get angry when they do not. This is what is the hardest for me to explain about my faith. How could I trust a God with something that I am not certain will come true?
That is where I was, and where so many others are, so so faulted in thinking. We praise God for His incredible actions that help us, but curse and challenge Him when his plans do not match ours. When our loved ones die, we question how God could take them away from us and the memories that we wish could be shared. We are so selfish. We say "me, my, I, mine," when we pray to God. We do not even consider God's plans for others. We want instant gratification over future accordance.
For those of you who have ever questioned God's mercy, please do read on. What I have realized after two years is that God's plan will rarely go as I wish. Sometimes, I will be happy, while other times I will have to wait and realize the glory of the result. I know from experience, though, that that answer does very little to help soothe a mourning heart. Psalm 33:4-6 says "For the word of the LORD is right and true; he is faithful in all he does. The LORD loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of his unfailing love. By the word of the LORD were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth." God's plan, though not always what we desire, is always best, true, and perfectly-timed.
No, it is not always easy to trust God, but it is always the right thing to do. Do I wish that my grandfather were still here? More than anything. Do I wish I could just call him, one last time, to hear him answer the phone with his southern "Hey, honey" and so that I could tell him what I have accomplished? Of course. What is greater than all of these wishes, though, is the assurance that I have that I will be able to hug him again soon. Though God took my grandfather away from Earth, He brought him to his forever home where he is waiting for me to knock on his door.
Almost every day I feel or see a sign that my grandfather is still with me. Somedays, I smell the scent of his favorite Hershey Kisses mixed with cigar smoke, sometimes I hear the ticking of his heart. The last words that my grandfather ever said to me were "I love you, honey." Yesterday I came across mine and my grandfather's last picture together that was taken at my cousin Matt's wedding. We were dancing to a song, one of his hands in the hair, the other on his cane. I could not ask for a better last picture of him.
After two years, I finally have an answer to my question about how such a merciful God could take my grandfather away from me. I know now that had He not, my grandfather would have suffered and been away from Heaven longer. Having him for just a little while longer is nothing compared to the eternity that I will have with him soon. No, it is not easy to think of my grandfather as gone. I will always miss him, but I will also always have the memories that I do have of him. Those memories are what are keeping me going until the Lord reunites us once again.
Until then, granddaddy. I love you and I miss you. You are, and will forever be, my hero.
After several long years and even harder recent months, my family and I sat there in his room in Redmond hospital, sharing stories of his camping trip hijinks, his knee high socks, and his endless funny faces. We tried not to cry, because we already knew what was to come later that night. At eleven o'clock in the evening, we said goodbye to my grandfather, Jimmy Stewart.
As hard as it is for me to right this post, I know it must be done. My grandfather was an incredible man, and he deserves a shoutout, no matter how informal it may come. He inspired this post.
My grandfather was a special man. He was the president of the local Shriners, active at his church, made everyone feel like family, and made it to every one of my home tennis matches. He suffered from a long battle with prostate cancer and other illnesses, but did so with a crooked smile on his face and with only minimal name calling towards the nurses and our family. When cancer finally won its battle, my grandfather had gave a heck of a fight. As long I was alive he walked through life as if he ruled the world. For that reason, I will always think of him as the strongest man I have ever known.
As a Christian, I am always asked how I can believe in and worship a God who allows loved ones to die. Honestly, I used to wave away this question, not giving it much thought. When my grandfather passed away, however, I went through a huge battle with my faith. I began to question God. I was so angry with him, furious that he took away my favorite man in the world. Granddaddy had always promised me that he would be there, and I believed that God interrupted that. I didn't admit my doubt to anyone, though, because I was so ashamed at my lack of understanding. No matter how upset I was though, I couldn't shake it. My grandfather would never see another tennis match, watch me graduate, come to visit me at UGA, see me get married, or hold his great-grandchild. I could never again go to his house and just watch cheesy television shows and eat my weight in cornbread while he slept in his recliner. How could God do that to me?
With all things great come also great tragedy. Christianity is one of those things where we put all of our faith into this invisible God, trusting that He will make something good. We ask for ridiculous things to happen, and get angry when they do not. This is what is the hardest for me to explain about my faith. How could I trust a God with something that I am not certain will come true?
That is where I was, and where so many others are, so so faulted in thinking. We praise God for His incredible actions that help us, but curse and challenge Him when his plans do not match ours. When our loved ones die, we question how God could take them away from us and the memories that we wish could be shared. We are so selfish. We say "me, my, I, mine," when we pray to God. We do not even consider God's plans for others. We want instant gratification over future accordance.
For those of you who have ever questioned God's mercy, please do read on. What I have realized after two years is that God's plan will rarely go as I wish. Sometimes, I will be happy, while other times I will have to wait and realize the glory of the result. I know from experience, though, that that answer does very little to help soothe a mourning heart. Psalm 33:4-6 says "For the word of the LORD is right and true; he is faithful in all he does. The LORD loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of his unfailing love. By the word of the LORD were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth." God's plan, though not always what we desire, is always best, true, and perfectly-timed.
No, it is not always easy to trust God, but it is always the right thing to do. Do I wish that my grandfather were still here? More than anything. Do I wish I could just call him, one last time, to hear him answer the phone with his southern "Hey, honey" and so that I could tell him what I have accomplished? Of course. What is greater than all of these wishes, though, is the assurance that I have that I will be able to hug him again soon. Though God took my grandfather away from Earth, He brought him to his forever home where he is waiting for me to knock on his door.
Almost every day I feel or see a sign that my grandfather is still with me. Somedays, I smell the scent of his favorite Hershey Kisses mixed with cigar smoke, sometimes I hear the ticking of his heart. The last words that my grandfather ever said to me were "I love you, honey." Yesterday I came across mine and my grandfather's last picture together that was taken at my cousin Matt's wedding. We were dancing to a song, one of his hands in the hair, the other on his cane. I could not ask for a better last picture of him.
After two years, I finally have an answer to my question about how such a merciful God could take my grandfather away from me. I know now that had He not, my grandfather would have suffered and been away from Heaven longer. Having him for just a little while longer is nothing compared to the eternity that I will have with him soon. No, it is not easy to think of my grandfather as gone. I will always miss him, but I will also always have the memories that I do have of him. Those memories are what are keeping me going until the Lord reunites us once again.
Until then, granddaddy. I love you and I miss you. You are, and will forever be, my hero.