Hope

The Phone Call I’ll Have in Heaven.

Christmas Morning, December 25th, 2014:  My Grandfather Died.

Here I sit, 10,000 miles from Pittsburgh, on a beach in Egypt.  After an especially long year of hard work, my husband and I decided to, for the first time, hit the sun for our holiday season this Christmas.  We needed a true break.

The kids are currently napping, and I escaped the heat, finding a beautifully shaded area in a quiet corner to think and write.  The view is so lovely that I pulled out my phone for a quick snapshot before trying to rework the blog I’ve been formulating for days.

And there it is.

A text message from my mom that simply reads:

“Grandpa is Gone.”

Shielded by my big sunglasses, the tears came surprisingly fast.

Not 6 weeks ago, my grandfather was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer.  Being ever-practical, he followed this news up with a decision to eat dessert everyday.  Having drawn the conclusion that IT wouldn’t kill him, so why not?

I wish I could pen a memorial of my relationship with him, reminiscing about all the good times we had.  But the truth is, for most of my life, I was frightened of him.

Essentially, I have 2 good memories:

1) When I was a kid, he used to sit in a lazy boy recliner and smoke cigars, mumbling swear words and donning an invisible “stay away” sign around his neck.  But he kept a cigar box hidden behind that chair that was filled with candy.  (I especially loved the Reeses Pieces)  And when I mustered the courage to ask for some, with a single nod of his head, he always obliged.  I’d run back there and eat my fill.

2) For some inexplicable reason, my sister and I loved to hear him roar like a bear.  We’d beg and beg until he’d take a great, big, deep breath into his santa-sized belly, and let out the LOUDEST, SCARIEST, FIERCEST bear roar you can imagine.  We’d scream with genuine fear every time, hearts pounding through our pink princess t-shirts.

That’s it.

As I grew into adulthood he seemingly softened towards me, but conversations remained awkward.  It wasn’t until I married my hyper-intelligent husband that I felt he grew ever slightly in respect for me.  He liked Steve — finally someone in the family who spoke his language.

But I felt he never “got” me, and I certainly never really “got” him.

So, sitting in Egypt, all alone, I asked the Lord if He could help.


And THIS right here is the moment when our Heavenly Father decided to hone in on a lesson He’d been preparing my heart for in the most unexpected way…


For weeks, I’ve had a truly random memory swimming around in my head:

I’m 12 years old sitting in a doctor’s office.  I’d never heard of Mononucleosis, and I was genuinely mortified to learn it’s also known as “The Kissing Disease”.  (It would be another long 8 years before a boy kissed this awkward middle schooler).  But I was surely sick and for the next many months I did nothing but lay in bed, paint by numbers, and observe the melting away of what little body fat my 5’10” frame held.

My school work was sent home for the days when I had the strength to do some catching up.  As I was starting to look like a “feed the hungry” commercial and was completely bored out of my mind, my parents came up with a plan to help get me excited about something again.  Together, we hatched the greatest science project presentation ever!

I wanted to grow crystals (like 1 in every 5 girls). But the special treat would be the display case.  My dad has a knack for building and I have a knack for design.   For weeks we worked together on back lighting, wood working, and piano hinges.  When I finally made it to school for a doctor-approved half-day, and plugged that project in, my classmates gasped as the lights hit those swirly brightly colored crystals.

I was SO proud.

But my teacher gave me a “C”.  (Um, come again?)

When I questioned her reasoning, she told me it was too good and she didn’t believe I’d done it myself.

Nothing I could say would convince her otherwise.  She’d made her observation, wrongly drawn her conclusions, and the grade stuck.  End of story.

…Science projects and my grandpa — Seemingly isolated topics.  But as I sit here in this corner, the two became one.

With people, what you see ISN’T what you get.

We walk around giving one another “grades” all the time.  Whether it’s based on observations we’ve made in minutes or after years of interactions — we think we KNOW people.

We don’t know spit.

I’d say my husband currently knows the most about me.  But in this ONE day alone, I’ve had highs and lows, insights and convictions, anger and joy, and thoughts and conversations – that he knows absolutely nothing about.  And that’s just today.

Each of us is the sum of so many parts that pretending to TRULY “know” one another is a laughably preposterous claim to make.  That, however, shouldn’t make us feel lonely nor should it cause us to feel isolated.

On the contrary, I now find freedom in realizing that I didn’t know my grandfather the way God knows Him.  His best bits were there, just out of sight from me.  In the same way, I find freedom from the grades others have given to me – they just don’t know.

Expect people to surprise you and don’t be afraid to surprise them.  You are not your last mistake.  You are not your greatest accomplishment.  You’re much more.

What grades do you need to erase…  On you?  On others?  On God?  What would happen if we truly let go of what we think we know about one another?

In the last two weeks of his life, my husband and I each independently reached out to my grandfather, sharing our faith with him through written word one last time.  Many people had been praying for his salvation and he finally found it in his last lucid days.

Two days before he died, my aunt read him the letter from my husband — the person in our family which he can most naturally intellectually connect.  He was in pain, but smiled as she read.  And when it was over he said, “I guess I should call Heather”.

In all of my life, my grandfather has never once called me.

Being on a beach in Egypt, they couldn’t reach me.  But I’m glad I missed that call.  Because just two days ago, he still had the ridiculous grade I’d given him, hanging over his dying head.

My hope is that when I get to heaven I won’t see him right away.  I’d rather ring him up and properly have that phone call — Ease into getting to know the grandfather I’d missed out on here.  I’ll laugh and we’ll reminisce about all the things I never knew.  And maybe he’ll share some Reeses Pieces while I beg him to roar like a bear.

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  • joolz December 29, 2014 at 11:00 am

    One of your finest!

  • Grace Marquez December 29, 2014 at 12:10 pm

    Touchéd my heart …some people just don’t know how to express their love..my dad is quiet and not expressive at all even at 94 years old.
    I guess I have just learned to accept him as he is…doesn’t make me happy, because he never acknowledges anything you do for him..you just do because that is the way we are. Marla says the reason for his long life is because he doesn’t have a worry in the world..no stress, we have always taken care of him. Such is life. Thank you for sharing…God Bless…glad you had a chance to get away !!

    • Heather Yoder December 29, 2014 at 8:15 pm

      Grace, it’s encouraging to hear your story too. I guess we all have people we are supposed to “know” and just don’t. Being family, specifically, doesn’t automatically make things easier, either. I laughed when I read Marla’s take on it. I can just hear her saying it. She’s one of those people who sees through matters with ease. I love that about your daughter (wouldn’t be surprise if she got it from you).

  • Karen Bland December 29, 2014 at 12:18 pm

    As always deeply touched , you seem to have a gift of reaching people exactly where they are with you’re writing, a gift from God. I’ve always felt graded and found very lacking!!

    • Heather Yoder December 29, 2014 at 8:18 pm

      Karen, I for one would love to see how the Father will restore all those poorly assigned grades and make your heart new … one day!! And then we’ll have to laugh together about how misunderstood we were in the world! ha! A date?

  • Mutney December 29, 2014 at 1:07 pm

    The straight of it is that you are a gift to all who know you. This is so true and to just realize it at my ripe old age means I have had a LOT of mis-perceptions in my mind and life. It is sad that you did not have the relationship of closeness with your Granddad, but I cannot imagine that he was as indifferent as he seemed. Some people just can’t show their emotion I think. safe travels in the coming days beefore you get home again. I sure love your posts of the kids, your trip and everything abot you.

    • Heather Yoder December 29, 2014 at 8:24 pm

      I think your insight adds great layers to this post. I have a personality that is often big and bold, which means I don’t always know how to navigate others who aren’t naturally similar. I think it’s possible that sometimes my grandfather was more nervous around me than I was around him. I can be a lot to take in (even when I was 8! =) ). Also, thank you for your traveling prayers. Cairo has me on my toes. “Beach Egypt” is not the same as THIS Egypt. We will be careful and I aim for the pyramids to remain standing even after my boys have toured them…

  • Mary Smith December 29, 2014 at 1:11 pm

    Heather – this really touched my heart. I can now apply it to my own Father. He is in Heaven and I look forward to meeting the person that I never really knew even though I always knew there was someone special underneath all of the layers of hardness. Have a wonderful New Year.

  • Heather Yoder December 29, 2014 at 8:26 pm

    Mary, what a gift your note is to me. Thank you. To think the Lord managed to do some healing in your heart through the very same means He’s been able to do it in mine. It never gets old seeing how He works among us.