A couple of weekends ago, four of us guys (Ryan, Derrick, Ronald, and I) from home decided to take a “man’s” trip up to Chicago with the hopes of seeing the Cubs play the Reds in old historic Wrigley Field, a guys trip for the ages. What more do you need than a car full of Mountain Dew and Ale 8 (Kentucky Drink), homemade brownies from mom, and four guys who just love the Lord heading up north to see a baseball game.
On the way Friday afternoon we had planned to make a quick pit stop to the west-side of Chicago to visit Ryan’s grandparents, possibly the last time to see his grandfather. His grandfather is a World War 2 veteran, and on D-Day was one of the men storming the beaches of Normandy; I’m a WW2 nerd. But recently he had a stroke where one side of his face, arm, and body were paralyzed as a result. Now he is confined to a nursing home where his wife comes to visit him everyday. He is 92 years old, and they have been married as a couple of 69 years, 69 YEARS!! The thought of that would be a miracle considering how marriages are struggling these days.
But the story isn’t of them, but of a different kind. As our visit was coming near end and Ryan was pushing his grandfather in a wheelchair to his room, I walked beside his grandmother for a moment, and then she spoke. “I always hate coming into places like this, seeing all the people with white hair just laying around waiting to die. They all just want to die.” I held her hand and said, “It’s a hard place to be.”
Jonathan Eldridge, in his book “Wild At Heart”, said, “You can lose your soul, by the way, long before you die.” Maybe that’s in some way what Jesus was referring too in Mark 8:36. For instance, many of us try to live a life of security in many things and we literally sacrifice our soul and true power when we insist on controlling things. Like the guy Jesus talked about who thought he finally had pulled it all off, built himself some really nice barns, and died the same night. Isn’t life sometimes feeling like a race?
I couldn’t imagine what many people in the nursing homes around the States go through. Lives that were young, played in the streets, kisses on first dates, married to sweethearts, awards on the walls, unique jobs, a life lived until one day you find yourself in a small four wall room…alone. The race ends and there’s still time left.
The house that was built is still there, it’s just now that someone else is in it. That car you drove is replaced for some with two large wheels on the side and a vinyl seat. All things that were personal now become communal. People die inside long before they physically die outside.
I’m sure if I was in Ryan’s grandfather place, there’s plenty of meditation going on. How did I live my life? Do I have regrets? Did I love? Did I ever feel true love? I wish I had the one last conversation. Why did I invest in this when it won’t last and not for something eternal.
One of my favorite parts about the Christmas movie Home Alone, is of the older neighbor who finally comes to find redemption with his son and the family. He wasn’t in a nursing home, but his heart was caged with another small room of four walls; fear, resentment, unforgiveness, and apathy. He was dead inside, but it wasn’t too late for a new birth and for him to come alive again.
I believe these are questions that will keep our hearts burning within no matter how white our hair gets or bald we go. I pray that I will never have to end up there, but if I do, I know that my home after this life is much bigger than any barn I can build only to end up somewhere else at the end. And as for now, I pray I just might be able to visit those places where people have given up, hear their stories of past, and know that they are loved where they are.
