This past week, we honored my father-in-law with a celebration of life. We didn't have Father's Day in mind as we planned it, but it feels appropriate to have thoughts of that service lingering in my mind as we honor fathers today. In addition to being a great father himself, he also raised a couple boys who grew up to be great fathers, too.
A few thoughts from this week of celebrating his life:
1. We've all heard that no one, at the end of their life, says, "I wish I would have worked more." More recently, in light of our culture today, I've heard it said, "No one says, 'I wish I had been more entertained.'" The list could go on and on. I wish I'd done more heavy drinking. I wish I'd fooled around on my spouse more. I wish I'd told more lies, criticized more people, bought more stuff I didn't need. No one says these things.
I'm thinking about what I will say at the end of my life. What will have mattered most, and is that reflected in how I spent my time today?
2. I'm probably not going to invent some technology that changes the world. I'm not going to cure cancer. When I die, the only pillar of my existence that I'll leave behind will be the impact I've made on other people. Will the people who are expected to speak at my funeral do so willingly and eagerly? Will they be able to say what they really thought of me, or will they have to be careful with their words to avoid "speaking ill of the dead"? We didn't have to censor our words about Grandpa J. We were proud to talk about him just as he was, and we were honored to get to share our stories of him. My youngest daughter said of her grandpa, "I didn't see my grandpa out sharing the gospel, but I saw it in the way he lived his life and how he treated the people around him." If I'm lucky enough to have grandkids someday, may they see the gospel that clearly in me.
3. We know so little about people, even those closest to us. I knew my father-in-law for 27 years. I saw him once or twice a week during those years. But I didn't really get to know him until he passed away two months ago and I began writing his story. I learned that in third grade, he and his twin brother decided to stop dressing alike. That he was the captain of his high school basketball and football teams for two years. That he met his wife by asking her to do the cha-cha. He was baptized in the South China Sea and spent a year apart from his wife and baby girl when he was stationed in Thailand. He fell asleep with his glasses on and his open Bible on his chest.
Why don't we ask more questions? Why don't we get to know more about the people we love while they're still with us? Why do we watch six years of a TV series and become completely involved in the lives of fictional strangers, and yet we know so little about our own loved ones?
And finally, this. If people are going to have a celebration of life for me someday--if they're going to take off work, buy a new dress, wear a tie, and sit in a hot church on a summer day (oh, please, Lord, take me home in the summer and not in the winter)--I want to have lived a life truly worth celebrating. A life that makes my children proud. A life that demonstrates the saving grace of God.
Grandpa J/Larry/Dad, you were a man who was always finding something to give to others, and I thank you for giving me this final gift: a clear picture of what it looks like to live well, finish well, and be remembered well. Enjoy your first Father's Day with your Eternal Father. I love imagining what that must be like.
