A century of life

                    We buried my grandfather this afternoon.
      He just turned 99 years old a few weeks ago, so he didn't actually hit a full century.
          That is close enough for me.
              His last night was surrounded by the people he loved.
       Not a lot to say about that. A man who loved God, his family and the simple things God provided is tending the Lords garden in Heaven.
      After seeing his remains surrounded by a century worth of the people he touched, I think I have a tiny inkling about the meaning of success.
          It means to have dutifully and faithfully served God and family.
              Can it really be that simple?
                 No other values really seems to matter. Money, property, fame all eventually disappear but the true legacy is the values instilled in generations following.
             If the generations who do follow continue to serve God, to love Him faithfully and carry it forward then that is real success.
                You did great, grandpa!

      

                   My Wife and I decided we will bring our three sons, ages 11, 10 and 8 to my Grandfathers funeral. We talked about it and think they are all at ages that are appropriate. I would not bring them to the Wake at this age unless they really wanted to go. I went to one of those at their age and it gave me the willies... Wakes still do that and probably always will.

                Although they weren't especially close to my Grandfather, they knew him and enjoyed seeing him and he always lit up when they were around. Out of respect, I am bringing them.

       I also hope it will bring comfort to my Dad.

              My first instinct is to shelter them from this experience. It can be very disconcerting to adults let alone children, to be surrounded by sadness and grief. I wonder if they really need to learn this now? I still don't know how to act at these things and I feel kind of hypocritical in trying to teach them so young.

             They are all very close to both of their Grandparents. My father is almost eighty and my mother is in her seventies with severe COPD.

      She was hospitalized a few weeks ago and her lungs just would not move air. She was released  almost a week later, but still is not much better. This crap never gets "better".

                   My boys love her. They adore her and she them. I am envious of the closeness they have with her, sometimes, but I am also afraid for them.

                               I pray that God chooses to heal my mom and keep her healthy. I also know the course this disease can take and how quickly it can get worse. I feel like some sort of ghoul, but I want to prepare them for the inevitable..

        No one knows Gods plans and my parents could be fine for another twenty years. My dad is as healthy as a horse.There is also a lot of longevity on both sides, so this would not be unheard of.

     I tell myself this often, but having earned drinking money thru most of my youth playing poker, I always keep track of the odds...

            This course the COPD is taking scares the hell out of me. I want to be optimistic.

                I want my mom well. I don't think that is going to happen.

                      So a part of my reason for bringing them is to prepare them, so that in their grief down the road, they will have been thru this before. I pray it is far in the future, down a very long road.

                        My heart breaks for my dad and his family. My grandfather was a good, God fearing man. I was blessed to know him and my grandmother. They let me live with them for a while and I was able to see how much they both loved God and their family. Until that point in time,I had only seen them a few times a year. In that time, I came to love them both.

       My grandfather is with his wife and son with God today. It is not for him I mourn.

            My prayers are for his family.

            

                           

A title shouldn't be this hard...

         Upon being informed that I exceeded the Facebook 15,000 word maximum per post, it seemed the best solution might be to start a blog. Coming from a pre-blog generation this was slightly intimidating.
            I happen to be blessed with a Wonderful Wife who excels at these things. She is a tad bit older ( sorry, hon) but has maintained half a dozen of these "blogs"over the past few years. She had set one up for me years ago but I only posted twice and left our creation alone in cyber-space.
      My first title this time was " The road is only a guide...". I thought it was nifty, as it had always been my favorite mantra for most of my life. Looking at it gave me writers block. I could not seem to work with it. This may have been how I viewed life in past years, but it is not who I am. The eternal question stared at me again, unflinching.
                After much thought I realized that most of my  Facebook posts were about my struggles and confusions in being a Child of God, a Husband and Father. So many men appear to fulfill these positions without difficulty. They seem to glide in them with a grace and confidence that I could not achieve. I was intimidated and wondered how they did it.
      I have found that I am not as unique in these things as I think.
            I love my God and daily battle my human nature to defy Him.  I love my Wonderful Wife but often struggle to put her wants and needs before my own. I love my three boys but constantly fall short of the Bibles expectation of me as a Father.
     This is who I am...