He was more than 90...

I was sitting on the couch talking on the phone when my cell phone rang. I was just updated "surgery is done. Dr Gessler said it went well. In recovery. Will let me go back in a bit. Praise! -Judy" so a pit formed quickly in my stomach when I saw it was Judy again. "Grandpa had some complications and they are coding him right now- I'm sorry, can you please call your family and let them know it doesn't look good." In a blur I called them quickly, arranging for my mother in law to come be with the girls. As Joel and I pulled into the hospital I saw mom & knew, "Grandpa's not here anymore" she said. I wont even try to explain the pain I felt, the pain I saw in mom's eyes, and the overwhelming emotions. How totally unexpected. In the matter of an hour we praised God for the surgery going well and then we wept. "Grandpa went to heaven."

I hated telling people what happened, calling work and canceling class, calling family. Because Grandpa was so amazing it hurt so bad. I knew people finding out that my 90 year old grandpa passed away wouldn't do him justice. I know even though he lived a long, full, life...none of us would ever be ready to let him go.

Some of my first memories of him were going out to eat for our birthdays. Grandma and Grandpa would always let us pick where we wanted to eat, anywhere we wanted. Of course Anne and I picked McDonalds until we grew up a little, then moved on to Ponderosa. We'd sing the whole way there and back in the car. It was my favorite thing about birthdays. I remember riding with Grandpa in his old army jeep. Grandpa drove to close to the pond and we were sucked into the mud. Of course I thought we were going under and were all going to drown. I remember his calm smile and him laughing the whole time. I remember watching Grandpa do surgeries on animals. We'd all cringe and "ewe" as he chuckled under his breath and laid all kinds of gross things out on the table in front of us. He'd let us hold the light and sit high on his chair the whole time. He treated each animal so kind and gentle. 

He was always kind, always gentle. (had to be if out of 13 grandkids he only spanked one, Joel) He played wiffle ball with us, pit, & scum. He'd lift his head, look up, and laugh his quiet laugh when everyone declined more food and Grandma piled it on anyways. 

Lately when we'd come to see Grandma and Grandpa, Grandma would be resting in her chair and Grandpa would be sitting in his rocking chair by the television, usually watching Jeopardy. He'd stand right up for hugs and say how happy he was to see everyone, always grabbing toys and playing with the great-grandkids. When we'd walk over to see Grandma, he'd smile and say "look at her, isn't she beautiful?" Almost 66 years of marriage and he treated her like a queen, ever day. 

Talking to Grandma since Grandpa passed away has blessed me so much. 

"He's my prince. I don't know how I'll live without him. He never said a cross word to me. He was soo wonderful. I didn't get to kiss him goodnight. He was my sweet heart. He would love to see his family like this, I'm so glad for my family. I loved to hear him sing when he'd sing bass. I'd sing to him in bed "let me call you sweet heart" and then we'd both sing together. He'd be here with me right now, laying, and talking about our day. He treated me so good. He made the best eggs. He was soo wonderful."

She's right. He taught us all to love. To love God, to love each other, and to love people. To respect people, to make each person feel important. To ask questions. To be ornery. That it's okay to cheat in cards, only if you don't get caught. To take care of each other. To laugh. To hug often. To stop by often. To say I love you. To live so people know you love them. He and Grandma showed us what marriage should be. Grandma's right, he was soo wonderful.

It doesn't feel right just telling people Grandpa passed away, it feels right telling them that he was so wonderful, he was so fun, he was so much to so many people. He genuinely loved everyone he met and even more loved God and served him every day. He deserves heaven. He deserves rest, good knees, and with good eyes to see God in all his glory. He deserves every bit of heaven. He was soo wonderful.

I'm kinda like that old guy.

Last Wednesday was a long day. I can't even remember why it was so long, other than running on about 3 hours of sleep & 2 grouchy children. I know I got nothing done other than surviving and making the house look like we got along just fine that day. Knowing very well that I crave Taco Bell with an unhealthy strong craving, my husband suggested we stop there on our way to youth group. Yes to no cooking. Heck yes to no spaghetti.
We had a wonderful family dinner. Instead of everyone starring at us and thinking 'poor parents of two wild toddlers' or 'what on earth are they doing with kids they cannot even control' we got looks and comments that said 'they are so cute', 'what sweet sisters', and 'you're so blessed'. [I love being reminded of how blessed we are].
On the way out, feeling wonderful with a belly full of 'sand & cheese', there was an elderly man who could barely walk carrying a cane, a bag of food, and a drink. (I couldn't help but wonder if this will be the great lengths I go through when I'm 80 to get Taco Bell). I motioned to Derrick that I'd get the girls if he would help this sweet lil man. Gladly Derrick offers to carry the mans drink and food and help him out to his car. He {Derrick} really can be charming. The man hesitates, then lets Derrick carry only his water. Holding the door for him the man carefully hobbles through. Going through the second door the girls whoop and holler because it's cold and 'hurry hurry, we want to go to 180!' so Derrick took his focus off the man to make sure I had an eye on both girls and the cars. Derricks foot that was holding the door wide open slips and the door crashes shut on this poor man, he hops and falls into the outside while of Taco Bell while dropping a few bomb words. (Seriously, knowing the man was fine, how is one not to laugh while watching?) Derrick rushes to make sure he doesn't fall, apologizing over and over, as the man swings his arm shooing him away. The man asks for his water back and is adamant about getting to his car alone. Derrick finally wins with a really sweet apology and walks the man to his car.
After hopping in the car and laughing hysterically at Derrick for shutting the door on the poor old man and the words that came out of the mans mouth I begin to think.
Derrick was doing such nice things for this man by helping him. He didn't have to. He had places to go, kids to chase, and a toasty warm car waiting. One wrong move and the man was no longer grateful for anything and wanted nothing to do with him.
I find myself in this position sometimes...I form opinions of people right off the bat. If they do anything different I write em off as someone else. I am a thankful person, I like to think I'm giving as well- but one time someone takes advantage of me, that person is no longer appreciative of anything I've ever done, or given, and I sure as heck wont do it again.
It's hard to see slip ups for slip ups, especially when it hurts, or it makes you look dumb. When it totally blindsides you it's easy to react by running your mouth and cutting yourself off from the person and situation. I hope to use this memory to remind me help me forgive and to be more grateful. I hope that when as I laugh with Derrick as we still talk about it, that I'm reminded how I act like a grumpy old man who just wants his Taco Bell.

I cringe when I think of High School....

I was a dork. I thought I was cool. I liked boys, plural. I couldn't make up my mind between other dorks, jocks, goody goodies, or the bad ones. I loved sweat pants, but I found importance in dressing 'cute' some days to get attention. I was a 'good girl' just a little 'ornery'. Outta my siblings, a little ornery landed you in the black sheep category. Everyone else was intelligent and applied themselves. They were sure about where they were and where they were heading. There were few things I was sure about.

One of the things I was sure about was my future. In my here and now of my senior year, I was going to have fun, earn the title class flirt (for some reason I was secretly proud of that) and wait patiently for my planned out future. I visited a few colleges before someone told me about one out by Chicago. Hopped on a plane, by myself, was picked of at the airport by the friend of someone who knew someone, and stayed in the dorm with that guys girlfriend. By the time I got off the plane in Chicago, I was sold. Not because of the city itself or the college at all...but because when I stepped off that plane in a huge airport and had no idea where I was going, I fell in love with the adventure. I fell in love with being independent. The college was cool, though I'm not sure it was a whole lot different than many I coulda went to in the same state. But it was farther away than any I looked at and I loved that. When I stepped off that plane I started planning the rest of my life. 

It looked like this:

I will go to college here. For journalism and broadcast news. I will fall in love with someone here, either from here or another state, one that had nothing to do with Ohio. I'll go where ever he wants to go really. Holidays would mean plane rides, I would experience airports all the time. I'd fly alone. I'd fly with a spouse. I'd fly with my kids. I'd work in sky scrappers. People would say "turn the channel to such and such, Kristen's doing the news!"

It still sounds fun to me. But obviously it happened way different. I came home after one year and started dating, not only from Ohio, but someone I knew for many many years. I fell in love, fast and hard. I ;moved home after my sophomore year and changed everything. My degree went to whatever I could get fast so I could settle down and be his wife. I got pregnant 7 months into marriage and have been a stay at home mom for three and a half years. I traded sky scrappers for silos and cornfields. Exciting business looking strangers for amish and faces I grew up with. I traded business suits for all day pj's, and my face on the news for days without seeing people at all. 

You can imagine that sometimes I feel like I've failed and let more than myself down. 

You can also imagine the light that went on last night while sitting in a room full of high schoolers, some that act just like I used to :yikes:, when Stu said "trust that God's plan for you is better than the plan you have for yourself." 

My mind immediately went back to when I was the age of most of the girls in the room. To my dreams. To my goals. To my black and white plan. I know I am right where God wants me right now. I also know I'm so far from where I ever planned I would be. Somedays are easy to trust in this plan and the path that I'm on. But days like yesterday are full of gross poop stories, hurt feelings, grouchy kids, feeling isolated, and never ending messes that no one will congratulate you for cleaning. Those days I especially need to trust God's plan for my life over the one I had.

I am a stay at home mom, helping raise the next generation. I'm worshiping every week with hearts that are wide open to love, acceptance, and God's plan for them.  I'm changing the world in sweatpants and t-shirts. And even when I'm grouchy or beat down by a career driven world, I can have a joy, a peace, because there is a plan worth trusting, and I don't have to write it.