People die.
It was my grandpa's birthday this past Tuesday. He died March 10th of this year, while Allen and I were visiting for spring break. If I were to be honest (and at this point, why lie?), his death was bittersweet. We were very close, and I had the blessing of see him acquire a strong faith late in his life. However, his health was going down hill for a long time. While he was as stubborn as a mule and as spirited as...some incredibly spirited thing...the fight, to him, was futile. And I don't blame him for growing tired of more and more medications, hospital visits, and nurse attention. I can't say I wouldn't be the same.
Regardless, Tuesday was hard. At the end of the week like this, I would normally give him a call and not even have to explain. He'd quote his regular puns, ("A hard-boiled egg is hard to beat!") and I'd quickly forget about my problem altogether. This time I found myself reaching for my phone, only to realize that I had no one to call. No one like grandpa, at least.
On top of that, Allen's dad's death was reminded to us as I made the mistake of having Allen watch Big Fish. If you haven't seen it, it is a great movie...so long as you're okay with crying a little. In this case, we cried a lot. "A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal." I could say the same for both of those men; as they were filled with nothing but stories, oftentimes.
Where do I see God moving?
In myself, reminding me I'm not alone.
What do I hear God saying?
"I am here. Find the quiet, and listen."
How do I see God work?
In art. I need to find an outlet to commune with God more.
It was my grandpa's birthday this past Tuesday. He died March 10th of this year, while Allen and I were visiting for spring break. If I were to be honest (and at this point, why lie?), his death was bittersweet. We were very close, and I had the blessing of see him acquire a strong faith late in his life. However, his health was going down hill for a long time. While he was as stubborn as a mule and as spirited as...some incredibly spirited thing...the fight, to him, was futile. And I don't blame him for growing tired of more and more medications, hospital visits, and nurse attention. I can't say I wouldn't be the same.
Regardless, Tuesday was hard. At the end of the week like this, I would normally give him a call and not even have to explain. He'd quote his regular puns, ("A hard-boiled egg is hard to beat!") and I'd quickly forget about my problem altogether. This time I found myself reaching for my phone, only to realize that I had no one to call. No one like grandpa, at least.
On top of that, Allen's dad's death was reminded to us as I made the mistake of having Allen watch Big Fish. If you haven't seen it, it is a great movie...so long as you're okay with crying a little. In this case, we cried a lot. "A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal." I could say the same for both of those men; as they were filled with nothing but stories, oftentimes.
Where do I see God moving?
In myself, reminding me I'm not alone.
What do I hear God saying?
"I am here. Find the quiet, and listen."
How do I see God work?
In art. I need to find an outlet to commune with God more.
