Several hallways of multicolored carpet and confetti-esque tile brought us-Unlce and Grandpa and me- to Grandma’s hospital room, which was already filled with balloons, flowers, and people.
She attempted to sit up and fix her hair as the one she has loved faithfully for decades walked into the room.
My grandfather, suffering from dementia, couldn’t even shave without the help of his loving wife. He could however, walk to the side of the bed of his recovering wife, place his hand on her forehead, grip her hand with the other, and sweep the hair out her eyes. Watching him do this; he stared back at his son, grandsons, daughter, and sister-in-law not recognizing most of us, and said, “Isn’t she beautiful,” then kissed her cheek whispering to her the confident and generous promise, “it is going to be alright.” He couldn’t find his car in the parking lot, he couldn’t understand what was actually going on, or what the doctors were saying, he could understand three simple things: Love, Hope, and Faith. He walked into that hospital room, not because he understood the circumstances, but because the one he loved was there, he could not survive without her. He saw what we all struggled to see: her beauty.
I knew, watching my grandfather, that I had witnessed the microcosm of the substantial changes that would shake and rattle this earth, and it was not what I had thought, and everything I was preparing to say fell away. I was in the very early stages of thoughts, inspiration, and revelations that would lead to the living actions of faithfulness, generosity, respect, and courage. I attempt those things because I live to know the realities, character, and person of my Jesus.
I want to understand the simple things, because-like my Granfather-I don't really understand much else...
