A Legacy to be Celebrated

"I might have missed everything that meant anything." --Robert W. Carver

On Sunday my Grandpa went home. The home that he has waited most of his life to see. The home where His bes Friend was waiting for him. The home where His son had already gone before him. And now he is there: Singing with the angels, hugging Jesus and playing with his Andy, his precious son lost to him nearly fifty years ago. Can’t you just see them? Andy running up to the gates with Jesus and laughing saying “Dad! You’re here! I’ve been waiting for you! Just think, now it’s the two of us and I have so much to show you!”  I love you, Dad.” And Grandpa, misty eyed with joy, hugs his son and turns to the commanding yet gentle Presence next to him, His Savior and best Friend who has also been waiting. A pause fills the heavenly air that whispers of awe, joy and worship as the creation views his Creator in all His glory for the first time, “Welcome home, Rob, my good and faithfull servant. Welcome.” And eternity begins.

How do you even begin to look at a life that has left such a legacy? I have always known my grandpa to be a man who loved Jesus but perhaps throughout the years, as I got older, I have realized just what it meant to say that He was a righteous man, a faithful man.  He is the patriarch of our family: the first to believe. On a hot evening in June 1961, he was dragged by his first born to a father-son banquet at a volunteer fire station where, for the first time, he was confronted with the message of Truth that would change his life forever. Struck to his core, he surrendered the right to his life back to the One who made him and entered into a journey, a relationship, that would sustain him through a life that often disappointed, offered pain and discouragement, and nearly left a heart swallowed in grief, and yet somehow this Divine relationship that had so thrilled his heart upon first hearing of it continued to offer him deep seated faith, joy and delight in all the little delights that a world filled with God’s creation has to offer. His wife, his children, Yellowstone, painting, driving, music, God’s precious written Word, his grandchildren (all 19 of them!) and one by one his great grand children. One by one each gave delight to his life.

I have two precious memories of my grandpa that I will forever treasure in my heart. One, I actually never experienced but have heard the story so many times that I can imagine myself as my mother must have been that day: waking up early, still in her pajamas, creeping forward toward the light from her Daddy’s office. She heard her father talking to someone and slowly peeked around the door to see whom it might be. The sight that greeted her eyes has imprinted itself forever on her heart and mine. Through the door, she saw her father on his knees with his Bible open in front of him, and with tears streaming down his face, he prayed for each of His children by name. Praying for them to follow the Savior who had become so dear to him. Praying that they would grow up and yoke themselves to a spouse who also loved Jesus. Praying for each one, lovingly, tearfully.He, feeling the full weight of the responsibility of a parent. Feeling compelled by His love for Christ and his love for His children to lift them up to their true Father before the light of dawn broke across each of their sleeping faces.  All sleeping save two. One whose heart could not sustain his body and whom Jesus had already taken home. And one whose curiosity awoke her before dawn.

The second memory is of my wedding day. My wedding day is a gift of memories to me as I celebrated on that day, a joining of my life with a man whom my heart, even in it’s youth, loved deeply. Before friends and family we joined our lives together and placed that union on the altar before our Savior and asked Him to accept it as a pleasant smelling offering. Like all wedding days, much is forgotten in the swirl of the joy and state of captive delight one finds oneself in when looking into the eyes of their barely 5 minute spouse, but I remember my Grandpa that day. Smiling. Laughing. Pure delight in his eyes. The dance he danced that day with my grandma belied the 76 year old body that encased his beautiful spirit. In looking at his smile, his joy, I realized something that day that will stay with me the rest of my life: I am who I am because of my Grandpa. The blessings I enjoy are the blessings of faithfulness passed down from my grandpa. He, the first to believe, was faithful. He was faithful to teach his children, my mother, who was faithful to teach me. I enjoy a spiral of blessings that began with my grandpa and continued with my mother’s faithfulness. God saw a simple man’s unwavering faithfulness, honored it and blessed him through his children. God then saw the faithfulness of my mother, honored it and blessed her through her children. 

And now I can only hope to continue that spiral of blessings with my children. It is a legacy I enjoy and will strive to impart to them. I will tell them of their great-grandpa who prayed for them before they were born. I will tell them of the man who loved their Nana and who used to pray for her before I was ever even a thought. I will tell them of a man who so many years before loved Jesus, and with his simple faith, raised a family that, in turn, loved Jesus and who, in their simple faith told their children about Jesus. Even now my two year old’s favorite song is “Jesus Loves Me.” She loves to sing, like her mother, like her Nana and like her great-grandpa before her. She often impishly looks up at me and says “I wan’ Jesus.” My heart always smiles when I hear her ask for her favorite song and find myself praying that she would indeed “wan’ Jesus” all the days of her life. I sing with her and find myself thinking of the legacy of faith that I live in and am passing on to her. I find myself too now, laying her to sleep and later creeping into her room, and with tears now in my eyes praying for her and for her children. I tearfully ask for Jesus to hold her close as He has held me close and held my entire family close. As I close her bedroom door, the refrain “Yes, Jesus Loves me” echoes in my mind, and my thoughts fly to my Grandpa who is perhaps at that moment, singing “Jesus Loves Me” with Andy by his side, an angel choir behind him, and Jesus, his precious Savior, before him. 

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.  – Deuteronomy 6:4-7

In the words of my grandpa

(found in a lockbox days before his home-going)

God has blessed me abundantly through the wonderful family He has given me.  I received Jesus as my Savior on June 24, 1961 in a volunteer fire station in Holbrook, Illinois, at a father-son banquet given by the Immanuel Baptist Church, and I didn’t want to go!  I might have missed everything worth anything. 

I love my wife very much.  Life has not always been easy for us together, but I have NEVER once doubted that God didn’t want us together for eternity.

The children have really been another manifestation of His abundant grace and mercy in my life, seeing them each come to know Him and grow spiritually in spite of the example I set for them.  I learned so much from each of them.  Thanks, Kids.

See if the undertaker can put a smile on my face, cuz I’m going with the Overcomer!

See Ya’ll later.