Granddad's House

I don't know why it has taken me six years to write this.

Granddad passed away in 2006, when I was a freshman at OU.  Cancer.  Such an ugly word and such an impartial disease.  As we have been celebrating the holidays, I've thought about Granddad more than usual.  And as much as I love everything about Thanksgiving, it isn't quite the same because we don't gather at his house. 

Granddad had the best house.  You could get lost in a book from his extensive library for hours, sit on the swing of his wrap-around porch as you sipped your morning coffee, wander down to the creek to shoot clay pigeons, or drive the golf cart downhill at top speed on the gravel road so that it almost tipped over.  Because Granddad lived in the middle of the country, you could blow up all of the fireworks you wanted on July 4th with no worries about setting anyone's house ablaze.  On Thanksgiving, Granddad would wake up in the middle of the night to check the turkeys in the smoker, and then his house would smell of cinnamon, pies, and pure deliciousness for hours after everyone left.  But what made holidays and other events at Granddad's special was not his house; it was Granddad. 

For a couple of years after Granddad passed away, we didn't sell his house, and my family continued to gather there to celebrate Thanksgiving.  We still ate savory smoked turkeys, fired shotguns, and played board games, but something (someone) was missing.  Everyone always laughed a little louder, listened a little better, and stayed a little longer when Granddad was alive.  His hospitality made people feel comfortable, and his selflessness made them feel important. 

Not only was Granddad kind, but he was smart- a rocket scientist, in fact.  He worked on the Apollo 13 Mission at NASA.  He was one of the very few people who, to me, didn't make Christianity seem cheesy or burdensome.  Because his life proved that "the ancient ways" of Jeremiah 6:16 are truly the best ways, he made me want to know God when everyone else made me question Him.

I still miss Granddad every day.  I wish he could have come to our wedding.  I wish Andrew could have met him.  I wish he had been at my marathon last week so he could "hug my neck" and tell me how proud he was.  I wish heaven wasn't so far away.

Mom and Andrew say that once we get to heaven, nothing else will matter but seeing Jesus.  True, I can't even imagine what a glorious day that will be.  However, I can't help but think that heaven will not be an eternity of sitting on the clouds as we play harps and sing "Jesus Loves Me."  (For the record, I don't think Mom and Andrew believe that, either.)  Since heaven is the completion of God's "making all things new," I want to believe that the things we enjoyed here on earth will be perfected there.  Before sin existed, Adam and Eve walked with God- and yet, they enjoyed each other's company.  One day when there is no more sin, perhaps we'll get to enjoy community again, in its perfected state.  Maybe one day Andrew will get to meet Granddad.  Maybe that's just me being naive.

Either way, I know that Granddad is reaping rich rewards for his beautiful life here, and I also know that everyone who knew him has a Granddad-shaped hole that won't completely be filled again.  I'm thankful for Thanksgiving and Granddad's house, but mostly I'm thankful for the 18 years that I got to spend with such an amazing man.