Today would have been my granddaddy’s eightieth birthday. In the picture above, he is reading Luke 2 to all of us grand-kids at Christmas. Until recently I had only ever seen this photo in a frame – it’s one of our family’s classic pictures – and I was sad that I wasn’t in it. Out of the frame, though, I see that I am! That red ponytail in the center at the very bottom is me.
Granddaddy was very outspoken about what he loved. Music, reading, his family, learning, birds, Jesus: no one who knew him ever doubted his care and affection for these things. I remember Christmas carols sung around the piano in four-part harmony. A whole room just for books in the log cabin he built. The twinkle in his eyes when he laughed. His incredible bear hugs. Refilling the bird feeders on the porch with him. His always wanting to know what I was learning in school. The prayers he prayed for us in our hearing, and those I know he prayed when we were not there. Playing Masterpiece at the dining room table. My hand in his as we walked the long driveway to the mailbox.
I had my first crisis of faith when Granddaddy died. I didn’t doubt him, but I absolutely doubted God. As a fourth grader, I wrestled with how a good God could allow illness and death. I fought against the childlike acceptance of the Bible that I’d had up to that point. Eventually I bottled up the questions, the anger, the words, and there they still rest: just waiting for Heaven (when I know I won’t care anymore). I didn’t understand so much then and, though I may know more now, I’m pretty sure I understand less.
But his death is not my story to tell. I will only say that secrets and shadows and silence cause great pain and irrevocable harm. Truth and light and openness are what heal the brokenhearted and bring life to the downtrodden. This I believe, and this is my hope.
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I took Eli to a local bird store this afternoon for him to look at a bunch of birds, which he loves just as much as Granddaddy did. The owner asked if he could help us with anything. I just told him that my grandfather raised birds and in honor of his eightieth birthday, I brought my son to look at them. The owner nodded very seriously and said, “Well, then, just take your time.” Because he was a bird person too.
Eli was a little terrified of the macaws because they were bigger than he was! And he tried to hide from the conures that kept screeching right in his face. But he stood in front of the budgies and canaries wanting to give them kisses, saying, “Mwah. Mwah,” with drool dripping off his adorable dimpled chin that he also got from Granddaddy.