My Grandpa Gene

December 21, my grandpa went home to be with Jesus.

I received a message from my mom to call home and once again I found myself on the other side of the ocean receiving news that a loved one was suddenly gone. As with last time, my first thought was "I want to go home." With it being the holiday season, however, I wasn't able to get a flight until Christmas Day and will spend Christmas eve night in London.

It's hard when all you want to do is be with your family. But, I'm also thankful for the respite before the storm. I've had a few days to just be with me and my grief and Jesus before diving into the frenzy of details that comes with a death (apart from the frantic search for plane tickets, but God also provided a very caring and helpful travel agent here in Scotland for me). It never seemed fair to me that the first thing you need to do when someone dies is plan an event. It would seem more fair just to sit and cry for a week.

I had a dream about my grandpa last night. In it he called me "sweets"...a nickname he often bestowed upon me or my mom or aunt. Though he was quiet and reserved, my grandpa knew how to love.

He and my grandma have been a constant in my life. When many things seemed chaotic, unstable, always changing, they were a pillar of security and strength. I lived with my grandma and grandpa for nearly five years when I was a kid, and those are five years I'd never give back. Those were a foundation for who I am as a person and also for what my relationship with my grandma and grandpa has been. They are two of my dearest friends, and were second parents to me my whole life.

My mind this last day or two has been flicking through memories of my grandpa. I want to share a few with you that you may know him more, and that I can capture some of these things.

- camping trips and fishing with grandpa. I never understood why we had to wake up so early to go fishing, but we were up, before dark. Grandma would be fixing sandwiches and making coffee, which grandpa would put in his light teal-colored thermos that he also took to the mines when he worked there. We'd head off to the lake and fish out of grandpa's canoe. He'd catch fish like magic, reeling in one after another. I'd get excited when the tip of my pole would quiver, only to discover I'd catch yet another batch of weeds. His fishing skills always seemed larger than life.

- many years of picking out the Christmas tree. I have a number of memories of walking through the snow looking for the perfect tree. I'd see pines that would look good and point them out, but grandpa kept walking. I knew he had tree-picking skills that were beyond me. He'd spot the tree. Carefully walk around it, inspect the trunk, hem and haw. Then take his hand saw and haul it out of the woods and into the basement for some trimming and to dry out. And he was always right...the tree was perfect.

- I got to go hunting with grandpa one year. Hunting is a sacred activity for my grandpa. We went up to the hunting shack and it seemed like something out of a book. We drove to the middle of nowhere, walked even further in, and crossed over a beaver dam to get to the shack. We slept in the one room in beds that creaked and was heated by a wood stove. I got to go out to "help" grandpa in the deer stand the next day. It was my job to look for the deer and tell him when they were close. He didn't get anything...he never got anything unless he was alone. But he invited us along, just the same.

- Labor Day Family camp with Ma and Pa Potter. I desperately wanted to go to Family Camp one summer. ALL my friends were going (and I wanted to invite a few more), and I wanted to go too. Somehow me and a number of friends went to camp that year and Grandma and Grandpa came along as our chaperones. We were one, big, crazy family. All my friends and the camp staff called them Ma and Pa and it stuck from that day.

- Grandpa's labors of love: My grandpa was a handyman. He was always tinkering on something, and his house is full of unfinished projects. But, he was always there to lend a hand. I remember the one summer he came out and single-handedly built a handicap access ramp for one of the cabins at camp. He put so much work into our church building...he would be there late into the night hours and up early and off again the next morning. He built me a doll house as a kid, not able to finish it in time for Christmas and promising to add the windows and doors later. After a few years, I drew them on with marker.

-The cribbage champion! Cribbage is a family game. Grandma shares about when her and grandpa were first married, they didn't have a TV so would play hours and hours of Cribbage. You cannot be a part of our family if you don't know cribbage. Whenever we get together, to this day, the cribbage board is always near and someone always asks, "you wanna play a round of cribbage?" My grandpa LOVED this game and was so good at it. And it is because of him, I have had to be shrewd at counting my points, because he inspects every hand and if you miss something, he made sure to point it out!

-Grandpa's generosity. My grandparents have been a great source of courage and love as I have pursued missions. They put on event after event with me and for me. They have given out of their own pockets for what I do, and they have always told me how proud they are of me. When I come home, often broke and wondering how I was going to continue in this lifestyle, grandpa would always come, quietly and with eyes full of love and slip some cash into my hand.

- a hard worker. My grandpa could not sit still if you tied him down. When he "retired" he'd be out in the yard all day or working on the church building. He valued hard work...sometimes too much! He'd shovel the driveway all by hand because the snowplow was broken...wanting to fix it rather than buy a new one. I find it fitting that he died while working, not while sitting on his recliner watching TV.

-a father to many. My grandpa is a father-figure to so many. I'm sure there are many that could share stories of how he was there for him. He has a way of quietly expecting better things out of people. He would take camping trips with young boys who didn't have fathers and just be there for them. He looked forward to those times so much. He was a constant male figure in me and my brothers' lives when other men had a tendency to come and go. He was always around for others at church, the young people at work, at Youth For Christ, Covenant Park....he never took it on himself to officially be a mentor to young people, and yet many seemed drawn to him as such.


Well, there's obviously so much more to be remembered about him, but I just wanted to share a bit of what was on my heart today. In many ways, this is what I'm looking forward to most when I get home with my family...pooling our memories together, crying and laughing over them and honoring a man whom we've all had the privilege of having our lives impacted by. I am who I am today because of my grandpa and I'm sure everyone in our family could say the same. He was a great man.

a little light reading...

I've had a lot of time to read a number of books while I've been on holiday. I've read magazines cover to cover, rather than skim them and enjoy mainly the photos. I've also re-read the entire Chronicles of Narnia series, along with a couple John Grisham novels which I can plow through in a day or two and feel entertained and still somewhat intelligent.


I'd like to recommend the two most recent books I read. The first is Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years (he is also the author of Blue Like Jazz)


For those who have appreciated Donald Miller's witty, down-to-earth style and honest perspective on the Christian life, this book remains true to that. His style amuses, challenges and engages you throughout the whole book (and yes...there are some quirky illustrations in this one too!)

Two screenwriters invade Don's life on a project to write a screenplay about his life. Through this process he is struck by the power of story in the human existence and what it tells us about our purpose and our life with God. He defines a good story as a character wanting something and going through conflict to get it.

He points out that characters in stories always change, but that the change comes with risk and it always costs something. The greater the change, the greater the cost. He states that "the point of life is character transformation."

We are drawn to people who live good stories, whose lives count for something and challenge us to think and act and love and respond in a deeper way. A "character is what he does"...not in a legalistic way of what we do is our identity, but we don't live good stories just by sitting on a sofa and willing our stories to be good. We have to get out there and live them. In the book Don does this by taking a trip to Peru to hike the Inca trail (and inviting a girl he was interested in along for the experience) and going with some people to bike across the US. He deliberately tries to live a better story.

I also appreciated the point he made towards the end of the book that someone one who is living a good story invites others into it and in turn that other person lives a better story as well. This is something I want to improve in. I admire people who are so welcoming and can get people on the fringes involved or can get a group of people together. I want to invite more people into my story.

So the book leaves you with the question "What kind of story are you living?" What does your story say to others about what you are living for, what gives you purpose? Who writes your story? I have to admit with my 30th birthday just around the corner, I've been looking back over my life and the story I've lived. It's been one of adventure, that's for sure. I don't feel as though I've wasted my story on a sofa feeding my brain to a television. But, I sometimes find myself waiting for the story to happen to me, rather than contributing a line or two to the plot myself. I want to pick up the pen and write a bit more....

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The other book I recently finished was The Search for God and Guinness. This book gives an overview of the history of the Guinness family of Ireland and the beer that they are so famous for.

Guinness began in a time when gin and drunkenness was wreaking havoc on society. The brew that Guinness is famous for was offered as an alternative to hard liquor and a better option than inebriation. The Guinness family, many of them devout Christians, also used their wealth and influence to bring about societal change. Many of them helped improve housing in Dublin and offered a job environment that far surpassed many of the other factory jobs. They sought to improve the quality of life for their workers and in the process were also astute businessmen and immensely successful.

This book gave me a great appreciation for the history of beer, and the way the Christians have interacted with it. I found his chapter on prohibition in America and the average American Christian perspective on alcohol enlightening and insightful. Though the book doesn't offer a straightforward Biblical treatise of Christians and alcoholic consumption, I daresay it quietly speaks to the positive influence beer has had in the face of the bad reputation it may have received over the years.

And I have to say when I drink my next pint of Guinness, I know that it has been a part of a wonderful tradition not just of brewing but of societal influence and godly people making a difference through their business. If you want a good read on an interesting model of faith and the workplace, I recommend picking up this book.

Switzerland

I have not been blogging as much as I intended on my vacation...and for a good reason. I've been too busy enjoying life and haven't been on the computer much.

I just got back from a fantastic time in Switzerland with my friends Zac and Stef Fischer. We all did our TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) training in Montana summer of 2008 together. Zac and I were in a teaching group together and we had some great times together, and a lot of laughs. I don't think I've laughed as hard as I did that month...between the random, sarcastic banter that all in our teaching group are adept at, to randomness of other students, and bizarre skits. So, when they heard I was going to be in Europe they invited me to Switzerland.

My time in Scotland has been a break, but it's also been a time for processing, prayer, seeking advice, debriefing, and just letting the noise in my head and spirit quiet down so I could hear the voice of God and hear myself breathe. Switzerland was a time to put soul-searching in the shelf and appreciate friendship and the beauty of God's creation.







And find beauty, I did! Zac and Stef just welcomed me into their every day lives as well as showing me some of the highlights the country has to offer as far as views and landscapes and good food. From sunsets over the Alps to the lakes that are so blue it looks like the sky fell into them and is just puddled there between the majestic mountains, it took my breath away and restored my soul. I have a love affair with mountains that began when I moved to Colorado and I think will remain an addiction until I die. (still asking God why I am living in a DESERT!)



I was also introduced to Raclette, a fun Swiss specialty. You melt cheese in small trays in the little oven on the middle of the table, cook your veggies and meat on top, and then put it all over potatoes! It was delicious and an interactive, community way of sharing a meal together. If you ever make it to Switzerland, I highly recommend it.



So a huge thank you to my hosts and friends the Fischers! I'm so thankful our paths crossed for a crazy month in Montana and that our friendship continues. The more I get to know you, the more I love and appreciate who you are. God has put his great heart for the nations in you and I know that he will impact many lives through you. He has given you talent and passion and fun that is a blessing to all you interact with. Thanks for welcoming me into your lives and generously blessing me! Let's meet again on this little globe sometime soon.

Step in to the pub

Well friends, come with me on a wee journey to a nice pub down yonder. We've frequented a few but this one tonight is of note because Sunday evenings are live music nights. Here, come through the door and order yourself a pint at the bar. It's quite the nice atmosphere in here isn't it? Dark wood, small tables and cozy booths. Well, it would be quite nice to stay in here but once you've got your Guinness, follow me to the back room....



Here, have a seat at the big wooden tables. How fun to join 12 other strangers at your table isn't it? The music is mellow and folkish. A couple is singing and harmonizing and you'd swear it was in the English language but the lilt in their accent is so strong that you can't recognize all of the words. The candles provide the majority of the light in the room, save a few lights along the wall and shining onto some paintings.

The Scottish men sitting next to you proceed to down two pints, two bottles of beer and three shots of whiskey without seeming affected at all. I know if I had that, I'd be crawling out of this place on my hands and knees! But the Scots are known for their liquor intake and subsequent tolerance. I will just take my time with my Guinness and have no need for something else, because it truly is like drinking a loaf of bread.

The music is lovely isn't it? Although it seems as though "unrequited love" is the theme for the night. I guess that provides material for the most emotionally charged lyrics doesn't it? Thankfully the man with the bagpipes or the banjo player will jump in with a lovely Scottish tune that makes you feel like getting up and dancing a jig. The mandolin and the fiddles fill in the gap as well. In between those songs, it's almost like a library as people huddle and whisper to each other or carry on conversation in low tones out of respect for the music. The white-haired men pipe in with an occasional acapella tune about a bonnie lassie they once knew that broke their heart. Death Cab for Cutie even made it on the repertoire this evening.



Well, that was fun. On the way out we stop and I give my compliments to the banjo player and he leans in so close his nose almost touches my face. He smells of cigarettes and whiskey but seems a nice enough fellow. I have to ask him to repeat himself a few times because his of thick accent and within the next five minutes he's invited us to every gig he's doing up and down the west coast the next month. We'll be seeing you Mick! We really must go. It was a great experience, maybe we'll see you another time soon.