I haven't said anything substantive here in awhile (which of course begs the question of whether I've ever said anything substantive here), and lately, it hasn't been because i don't have anything to say, but rather because I've been sort of overwhelmed with new experiences and life and all of the things going on that I haven't had as much time as I'd like to pause and reflect and think on things. Between three vacations since May, a pregnant wife, a 2 year old son who is always learning and amazing me, a new church, and family stuff i'm sort of bowled over at this point by life.
Which has made this week all that much harder. My
grandfather passed away on Wednesday. It wasn't a surprise, and in the grand scheme of things, it was probably for the better, and he's in a better place and he's at peace. I could rattle off platitudes at you for an hour on the passing of a loved one. People feel the need to
say something in the midst of loss and pain, because the silence is an amazing reminder of loss and loneliness. But through all of it, I have amazing friends who love me and love my family and have taken good care of us, and I'm thankful for that.
Obviously, this week has caused me to reflect on my grandfather and his life and my life and how all that plays together towards something else. A lot of times, when someone dies, we look to the great things, the accomplishments of one's life to remember and to point to, I suppose, the value that they added to the lives of people around them. And it's always been in the back of my mind that I want to accomplish something truly great - I resonate with characters in movies who do noble and heroic and massive things and I've always seen myself in that light.
One of the things that really strikes me about my grandfather is not his greatness, not his amazingness, not all the things he had accomplished, but rather, the joy and faithfulness with which he lived a simple life. He loved his wife at a profound level, and he loved his children. He loved his grandchildren just as much, and then doted on his great-grandchildren. He worked hard, served his country, played softball. He made a bologna salad that was fantastic, and because I loved it every Christmas, it was at the house. When we needed picked up, or driven to school, he was there. Here is a man who loved deeply and faithfully, not dependent on what people did for him, but rather because he loved people and that's what he did, and as a result, was loved by almost everyone who knew him (I say almost b/c I assume it's possible that there was someone who he didn't like or didn't like him, but I never met them). You couldn't walk the streets of Hamilton, OH without him seeing someone he knew, and that meant a conversation followed.
What if that's what true greatness is? Not even in the loving people - all of us love people at some point, for various lengths of time - but the faithfulness with which he did that, year in, year out, with no regard for how tiring it is, no reservation about doing it, never an assertion of what he needed, but rather a constant look for what others needed. What if the greatness in our lives is not going to be measured in how much we did, or in what we accomplished, but in the people that we loved and served. What would it look like if I reoriented myself around that?
I'm thankful for my grandfather, and for how he was another example, put in my life, of what it means to be a man, and a husband, and a father, and a friend, to love people and to genuinely share in your life with others. It's a high bar for me to live by.