Remembering My Grandpa, Part 2

Great-grandbabies brought energy

Yesterday, I posted Part 1 of this series about my grandpa ("Papa"), who died on Christmas night.

After Papa died, I was thinking more about his influence on my life. While I had explicitly realized how his life taught me to live out my priorities, I suddenly realized how much he impacted the way I approach faith.

One of my favorite quotes is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi: Preach the Gospel always, and if necessary, use words. In my reflections, I realized that I may have fallen in love with this quote because that's how my grandpa shared the Gospel.

As I mentioned yesterday, one of our traditions while living together was going to a weekly meeting of the local Biblical Archaeology Society, where an academic would come and share various findings and thoughts about archaeology and religion. We would always have dinner beforehand and have great conversations on the way home. Papa would regularly read all sorts of materials on faith and science and discuss them with me.

What I didn't appreciate at the time was that this man, who was 60 years my elder, would actually ask my opinion and thoughts. And he truly wanted to know. Even after he retired, he wanted to continue to learn and build his faith, including from his grandson.

In retrospect, this behavior taught me two major things: Humility and persistent faith through questions. My grandpa, who grew up during the Great Depression, who worked a farm with his family, who fought and lived through the South Pacific battles of WWII, who raised three children, who watched his wife and daughter die of cancer, thought he could even learn from his punk grandson. If that's not humility, I don't know what is.

And talk about living through major world changes, including through scientific discovery. He wasn't terribly vocal about his faith, but it persisted until the end (the last time my wife and son saw him, he proudly showed his new large print Bible he was reading). This blog and much of my interest in faith is about finding a way for faith to persist despite a variety of challenges. I never realized it before, but I think my grandpa was absolutely central to that perspective and allowing me to maintain faith through my own trials.

I miss you, Papa, but I thank you for sharing your life with us!

Remembering My Grandpa, Part 1

Papa and Brendan

As many of you know, my grandpa, who turned 90 in August, died on Christmas night. It wasn't a surprise, but that didn't make easy, either. For those who don't know, I lived with him for a couple of years in graduate school until he was put on hospice the first time (7.5 years ago, after which he was kicked off because he was doing so well). This gave me the rare opportunity to really get to know my grandpa well, in a way that many people don't get to know their grandparents.

One of the ways I have long known he impacted me was by living according to his priorities. Those who know me know I'm pretty ambitious. I've long derived a lot of meaning from the things I've done and accomplished.

My grandpa (I named him "Papa") didn't have a prestigious career (he retired from a department store selling window dressings). He served in WWII, married my grandma, moved to California (both grew up on Ohio farms with numerous siblings), and went to art school. As Papa and I would go to weekly Biblical Archaeology Society meetings, he would sometimes talk about how he wished he had gotten a PhD in one of these fields. But he ended his higher education in order to make sure his family had enough money once kids came along.

He retired before I can remember him working. But how often does a grandkid really think about his grandfather's career and status? I have a good friend whose grandpa is well known and who I respect. I've sometimes thought about what it would be like to live under that shadow (and I've heard stories). Then I've compared that to my relationship with my grandpa. Would I have loved Papa more or respected him more if he had done all these amazing things? I can't imagine that I would. In fact, I probably would have loved him less because he would have been around less and therefore I wouldn't have known him as well.

As I hear more and more stories about the personal lives of the ambitious, "accomplished" people I respect, many of their marriages and relationships have fallen apart. Sometimes numerous times. But I remember my grandparents' 50th anniversary. I think priorities have something to do with that.

So a big lesson Papa taught me (just by living his life, never explicitly) was to live out your priorities. And family and faith are my priorities, far more than career. I hope I can live up to the standard Papa set. 

The Glorious Fog @EdwardDobson @christianaudio @caReviewers

Every month during my year-long predoctoral internship, I spent a day with patients diagnosed with or being assessed for ALS. This is a tragic disease that killed baseball great Lou Gehrig and gave renowned physicist Stephen Hawking his electronic voice. This disease not only affects the individual, but also the families. Often the families were more deeply impacted by the losses than the actual patient.

A common thread among the patients and families was that they were forced to address existential questions. During our support group including both patients and family members, it was not unusual to get questions and comments related to faith, the goodness of God (or lack thereof), and the process, hope, and promise of healing.

ALS can be a great equalizer of people. We saw all races and socioeconomic statuses. Both genders were well represented. While it tends to hit people in the second half of their life, we had a good representation of the under 40 crowd. We occasionally got someone under 20. And the process of ALS is different for each person. Some die within months of diagnosis. Others, like Hawking, can live for decades.

Medically-speaking, there is virtually no explanation for the etiology or the reason for continued degradation of the body. There was one lady whose hands were essentially paralyzed. She explained she and her congregation prayed hard and the ALS stopped partway up her arms and has been stable for years. Others have just as much prayer, and the disease seems to move faster.

This can impact one's faith in so many ways, as anyone can imagine. So when I saw Ed Dobson's book, Seeing Through the Fog, exploring, in part, his journey with ALS, I was intrigued. I was even more interested in hearing reflections from this pastor who worked closely with Jerry Falwell and yet voted for Obama.

What I particularly appreciated about Dobson's work is his complete honesty. Emotionally, cognitively, and spiritually, he discussed the journey of his life pre- and post-ALS.

Ultimately, this is not a book about ALS, although I can be very helpful for those suffering with ALS and their loved ones. It's also not a book presenting a formula for how to deal with challenges in life. Rather, he beautifully explores how to see God in the midst of the mundane parts of life. And find joy in those moments, growing ever closer to Christ in the process.

It seems that ALS really helped Dobson particularly see the complexities of life and find the joy in the nuances. He does not minimize the challenges of the fog that so many of us face in different ways, but he also reflects on the beauty of God's incarnational love that takes us through that fog. There were many times I left the support group I was co-leading wanting to cry. Not out of sadness, but because of the beauty of the deep, sacrificial love these families display. Like so many tragedies, ALS can destroy a family, or it can bring them together more powerfully than ever, gloriously shining the love of Christ for everyone to see.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”