I sat in the chair beside his hospital bed. It was just the two of us there. A few minutes passed in silence as he stared straight ahead at a drawing from his grandson taped to the wall. I watched Uncle Joel for any hint of what I should say or do.
“It’s a strange situation a man finds himself in,” he said with what I think might have been a faint smile. I nodded, mulling his words over.
It’s strange to be a once healthy active guy now dying from cancer?
It’s strange to have the kids out of the house, to have more time than ever for flirting and fun with the love of your life only to have that life cut shorter than expected?
It’s strange to serve your country with honor only to be accidentally poisoned by her?
It’s strange to be the caretaker, the family encourager and provider and now be the one cared for?
It’s strange to be a man of faith and now face the unknown and sometimes frightening?
It’s a strange situation a man finds himself in?
That day in the hospital was the day I returned from El Salvador, back in November. It was the last time I saw Uncle Joel. A few days before Christmas, while sleeping, he took his last breath here on earth.
We made an early trip home for Christmas, for the funeral. I sang. We cried. We celebrated a life well-lived.
A few days later I turned 36, just before the start of a new year. On my birthday I’m always at mom and dad’s house, the house I grew up in, full of pictures and memories from my own life.
This year I noticed how big my kids had grown since my last birthday. I noticed the arthritis in my dad’s hands, the cluster of lines at the corner of my mom’s eyes. The plaque from my label days on the wall outside their room. Boxes of Star Wars toys in the top of my old closet, in a room that’s no longer mine but is now dedicated to my Dad’s love of hunting and Aggie football. The dead end street my sister and I sledded down on baking sheets as kids the one time we got enough snow. The rotting wood over the back porch. The trees too tall for a boy to climb now. The avocado green kitchen appliances old enough to be back in style.
It’s a strange situation a man finds himself in.
In time. In rapid succession from child to father to grandfather. In things like work and worry, success and failure, things that matter less and less as time passes and don’t matter at all when time is up. In a body and in a world we can’t fully control. In a life packed so full of gifts that it feels like sin today to spend it doing anything but saying “thank you.”
Life.
The best life.
It’s a strange situation a man finds himself in.
Jason says:
You have such a wonderful gift for story telling.
Ben says:
[thinks]
Cindy says:
There is nothing to say. Except “Thank you” for sharing and “Thank God” for giving you eyes to see what you see, a heart to feel the way you feel and a voice to say the things you say. We are blessed.
Eliza says:
How weird that you would post about this today. My father died of cancer 7 years ago this month and he came to know Christ at the end of his life. Your song “Welcome Home” has such a special place in my heart because of what it meant to him. He loved it and listened to it over and over again. We played it at the funeral. I cry every time I hear it, not because of sadness but because the words remind me of a forgiving Savior who welcomed my earthly father “home” with Him eternally. Thank you for your words, thank you for your music. I cannot tell you how much it has meant to me and to my family.
Shaun Groves says:
Wow. Thank you for letting me part of your life. ANd your dad’s.
redheadkate says:
I’m with you (in a figureative way rather than literal, just in case you were confused). Turned 34 last month and have been thinking along the same lines…not quite as well put as you, but the same sentiment.
pendy says:
It’s a strange situation a woman finds herself in, too. 🙂
So hard to get a grip on the passage of time. A lifetime seems to go by in a flash. Of course, that is what the Bible tells us, right? Amazing that this life isn’t all there is; I am ever grateful for that.
Melissa Fitzpatrick says:
I just bawled my eyes out reading this post. You’re a great writer, my friend. Hope you and Becky and the kids are all well.
Dawn~Canada says:
Strange indeed. I would imagine our Heavenly Father planned for our hearts to ache like that. Time passes, memories pile up, all of it leading to the end. And like our hearts I would also imagine His aches for us to be at home with Him. Forever. Thanks again for your thoughts.
Nikki B. says:
Thank you for writing this & continuing to encourage me and make me think about the bigger picture.
Cara says:
Gah. Wow. So many things rushing through my mind while reading your post and reflecting.
The fact that you have your mom and dad together in one home – you can go back. What a gift. I long for that like you would not believe. My parents are alive, but divorced each other after over 20 years of marriage and since have gone on to re-marry a collective total of 5 times in the last 13 years. It’s a strange situation I find myself in…
The place I grew up, the trees and fort and hills that we went sliding on, all the spaces in which I dreamed and imagined and grew now all belong to someone else. I can’t go back. I wish I could show them to my kids. I wish I could show my children my parents, aging slowly and well, and in love with each other. But I can’t go back. Marriages break down and lives fall apart. It’s a strange situation that the children find themselves in.
Among the many reasons I spend some time here each week to catch up is because you have such a knack for making a moment’s pause for reflection a pleasant, if sometimes painful, exercise. This week you have renewed my resolve to give my children the gift of the opportunity to go back and to experience things the way you’ve done. The gift of being able to reflect on “a life well-lived” and parents who honored each other, and their vows, for a lifetime.
It’s true what you say: Life is packed full of gifts. I don’t know that we truly recognize that we can’t, at the end of it all, cram any of the crap we chase into the coffin with us. We spend so much of ourselves on the tangible, when really it’s the intangible – the essences of life that act as glue – that at the end determine if we’ve left anything that can be remembered as a “life well-lived”.
Jen says:
Hm, this is a good reminder to pay attention to life. Live intentionally. Thanks.
eddie broussard says:
awkwardly personal for me too! thanks and be blessed….
Heather U says:
Beautifully written and so very true! My MIL passed away a little over a year ago and having gone through visiting her in the Neuro ICU and all that has transpired since then… I have had similar thoughts. Thankfully we serve A God who cares about all the details of our life ,and will use every bit of it no matter how quickly it seems to pass for His purposes!
gretchen says:
I make two mistakes too often. The first is acting like Heaven doesn’t exist. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, I am often too easily pleased (here on earth). The second is not realizing the absolute brevity of life on earth–squeezing every drop of living and thanksgiving that God has planned for me. Lord, forgive me. And thank you, Shaun, for this reminder. I’m sorry for your loss.
Nancy says:
I’m sorry to hear about your uncle . . . and grateful to hear about his God-honoring life.
Could you pray for my friend Kim? She finds herself in the same situation — but without yet knowing Christ as her savior. I shared the Gospel with her before Christmas, and I’m having to release her into the Holy Spirit’s care. I hope I see her in heaven . . .
Shaun Groves says:
Absolutely, Nancy. And I’m sure many others here will too.
Frank Shelton says:
Brother Shaun
What a JOY to connect with you. The Lord has really blessed you and I am also a featured speaker with COMPASSION. I am going to Guatemala with them in March. I pray our paths cross soon and God bless you today and always
In Christ,
frank
Joyce says:
Wow-this was so well said. It’s been a year of change for me…we made an international move (back to the US) and its our first move without any kids at home and suddenly I’m at a new place in life. It does make one think. Alot.
How awesome you are able to say your uncle had ‘a life well lived’…I’m sorry for your loss.
missy @ it's almost naptime says:
wow. beautiful.
missy @ it's almost naptime says:
PS You have a good ole time in Marshall TX. My peeps are from Tenaha, not far from the thriving metropolis (by comparison) of Marshall.
Shaun Groves says:
I’m from Tyler originally, Missy. I know exactly where Tenaha is. I might be the only person not from Tenaha who knows where Tenaha is ; )
Thanks for stopping by, Missy.
mame says:
“In a life packed so full of gifts that it feels like sin today to spend it doing anything but saying “thank you.”
Awesome!
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