Today, my grandfather would have been 83.
His death, a year ago, was really hard for me. I partially blame my mother. After she died I swear I took on some of her emotions. She would seriously cry watching a commercial, and I used to always make fun of her. After her death, though, I became a lot more emotional (not that I will always, or ever, publicly show it).
My grandfather played a significant part in my relationship with God. It was his actions and his words that showed me what a Christ-like life looked like.
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By accident I tucked away the last present (money) my grandfather gave me. I had thought about buying myself a nice graduation dress or a nice sleeping pad for the Race. Well, graduation came and went and then I completely forgot to use the money on my sleeping pad. Then a few weeks before the race, it hit me.
My grandfather was always taking pictures. I’m pretty sure we have every family get together documented; which is saying a lot because I’m pretty sure we have at least 6 a year.
So, I bought a point-and-shoot camera for the race using the money he gave me. It was my way of including my grandfather in a part of my life that he couldn’t be here for, but that he had a strong hand in guiding my to.
My heart was broken when I was about to go through security at the RDU airport and went to pull out my new camera to snap a goodbye photo with my dad. My camera was not where I had thought I put it.
It turns out my bed decided to eat my camera while I was packing.
I was bummed. I thought I had found this perfect way to include my grandfather in the World Race and it was all being thrown out the window. Plus, I didn’t have a camera to document any of this year with.
By a happy turn of events, though, my dad was able to ship me a package while I was in Australia. It literally showed up the last day we were there. I was ecstatic opening that package. It was more than just having a camera; it was having a piece of my family with me on the race.
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I can’t even put into words the impact my grandparents have had on my faith and my relationship with God. It is literally through a lifetime of watching them, observing them in a variety of situations, which has slowly shaped my faith.
I consider myself exceptionally blessed having had the opportunity to know my maternal grandparents so well.
When I was 3 my family moved in with my grandparents for about a year while the house I grew up in was being built. My father has always worked about an hour away from home and my mother was a nurse with a crazy work schedule. As a result, during the school year (until I was 16) I spent an hour in the mornings and a couple of hours in the afternoon/evening at my grandparent’s house almost every day. During the summer I spent all day there.
The older I got, the more I complained about it. My grandparents live on a small farm in the middle of nowhere AKA there was absolutely nothing to do but entertain myself by playing in fields.
But looking back, I really appreciate the unique relationship I have with my grandparents.
I remember spending days at Town Hall while my grandfather was mayor. When I was really young, spending the day at the Oil Service Station he owned. I remember picking up lunch at the local grill and taking it to my grandmother at church where she was the secretary. And of course, helping my grandfather feed the cows in the mornings and evenings.
I can’t help but be grateful for these opportunities that I imagine most grandchildren don’t have.
Some of my favorite memories are listening to my grandfather say the same prayer before dinner every evening. Thinking my grandfather was a genius for knowing which hymns to bookmark before the church service started (I learned much later that the hymn numbers could easily be found in the bulletin). And being so proud when my grandfather got up in church to speak because he was a deacon.
He taught me that actions speak louder than words, that acts of service are acts of love, and that you do anything for the ones you love.
Pops, thank you for showing me what a real man of God looks like.
