ready to fly

Last weekend was an amazing weekend. A few friends and I surprised my friend Stacy for his birthday by "kidnapping" him and taking him to the mountains of North Carolina for some early birthday hiking and exploring during the peak of autumn with all of its radiant colors. Around each curve in the road, something new and beautiful awaited us. At one point, someone pointed out that as the colorful leaves fell from the trees, the person who caught each leaf was the first person to ever touch that particular leaf. Incredible.

We began our mornings with a quiet time on the balcony of our cabin. There I sat overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains with my Bible in my lap and a steaming (literally) cup of coffee in hand to ward off the chills that threatened to make my teeth chatter. There's just something about being outside in the midst of God's creation that makes me feel like I'm sitting in His lap. I adore the color green and so being outside with the trees and the grass always makes me feel alive. But being in the midst of the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of Fall...being there makes me feel like I'm burning with life! The mountains are my favorite landscape, for sure. Each time I look at a mountain, I'm reminded of how truly small I am. Small enough to seem insignificant from the world's perspective, yet perfectly significant and dear in God's eyes.

Throughout the weekend, I reflected on the truths that God has been pressing upon my heart lately. He's been romancing me with His beauty and His grandeur. He's been humbling me and purifying my heart. He's been teaching me to lean more on Him for my strength. He's been reminding me that He truly is in control of all things. He's been telling me He loves me through the smiles and embraces of all those people I hold so dear in this world.

On Sunday, before heading home to Florida, a couple friends and I stopped to visit my grandfather at his home in the Carolinas. I felt bad asking my friends to take the time out of their vacation to visit a man they'd never even met before, but I knew I couldn't drive through town without seeing him. Each time I see him (which isn't often these days), he seems to shrink in size. All my life, my grandfather has been a strong man with a sharp mind and opinions and beliefs that are bold enough to make the largest of men seem small next to him. I look at him as the spiritual mentor for my whole extended family. He started out his life as a poor kid on the streets of Chicago and grew into a man who feared God and dedicated his life to spreading the Truth of the Gospel. He has passed out literally thousands upon thousands of tracks with Scripture verses and the message of salvation printed on them. He raised up a family to love and serve God and now his grandchildren and great grandchildren are following in his footsteps.

This visit with my grandpa was the most tender experience I have ever had with him. For the first time, he felt soft. He was gentle and fragile to me for the first time ever. He let me just hold his hand and stroke his arm as I sat at his feet. His eyes teared up just looking at me. I don't know how clearly he sees my face through his 89-year-old eyes but I know that when he looks at me he sees me through a filter of such love and devotion that his eyes see something beautiful and he makes me feel beautiful in return.

Holding my hand, my grandpa turned to me and said "I'm ready to fly, honey..." and my heart almost stopped. "I'm ready to go home." Those words pierced me with their gravity and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. Would this be the last time I would ever sit at my grandpa's feet? Would this be the last time I held and kissed his hand? Would this be the last time I heard him repeat the jokes I've been hearing him tell over and over again for the last twenty-plus years?

I'm crying now as I write these words. Crying and wishing I were at his feet right now, holding his soft and fragile hand in my own strong hands. The thought of having to let go of him in a figurative sense terrifies me and makes me want to rejoice at the same time. Grandpa said that he wants to go to heaven because he won't be 89 there. He said he'll be younger. Maybe 80. Maybe 33 like Jesus was when he died. He's excited about being with Jesus. And I know that Jesus longs to have "little Paulie" come home to Him at last. It will be a day of great rejoicing when this warrior of a man enters the presence of His blessed Savior and redeemer who took him out of the pit and raised him into a man of great faith who would lead an entire family to the feet of Jesus Christ.

Later after we visited grandpa, we drove to the mountain he used to live on and saw the house he lived in until my granny died and he sold it in his grief. He'd had a plan for our whole family to live on that mountain together, but then his beautiful bride of forty plus years breathed her last breath and his plans were forever altered. I thought about how often that happens. We plan out our lives only to find out that God has an alternate plan that is so much more perfect and complete.

Grandpa is getting ready to fly, but he is leaving a legacy behind. His life has brought many people to Jesus. It has been a full life, a life of great consequence. That night we visited a cemetery and as I read some of the epitaphs on the gravestones I thought of what my grandfather's gravestone might say. How do you tell the world about a life so full of grace and joy and hope and strength and passion in just a few words chiseled into the face of a piece of stone?

I hope that one day someone will say such things about my life. I don't want to wait until I'm older and thinking about dying to begin living a life of meaning. A friend reminded me last week that none of us is guaranteed tomorrow. I know that to be true. I want to live each day with a heart that is ready to serve the kindgom of Christ...a heart that is ready to fly. I want to live today as if there might not be a tomorrow, grateful for each breath...each smile...each heartache...each embrace.

Thank you to Stacy and Nathan for visiting my grandfather with me. Thank you for letting me cry in your arms.