Grandpa
I've always been closer to one set of grandparents. Perhaps it's because we used to stay together; I don't know. When Grandma passed away, I thought that'd be the end of all the stories. I'd forgotten that she (and Grandpa) had left behind my dad and six other aunts and uncles to keep them coming.
The most important lessons I've learnt, I've learnt from Grandma. Over the weekend, as I was talking to my aunt, I learned something new -- this time, from Grandpa, more than a year after he's passed on.
My grandpa was a man whose heart of generosity far surpassed anyone I've ever known. He always thought the best of everyone, and always gave them the best he could. Unfortunately, this made him most vulnerable to a world who'd learnt to exploit those who trusted the most. He was constantly cheated of his money, and in a crushing blow, he was cheated of the taxi that he drove -- his livelihood.
Grandpa was also very human. Every time his trust was betrayed, he was hurt. This didn't stop him from giving -- that's just the kind of person he is -- but it did make him bitter at times.
"Good thing he wasn't rich," my aunt casually remarked, all the while her eyes never leaving the newspapers, as we sat around for morning coffee. "Otherwise he'd have been cheated of more, and he'd have been hurt more, and he'd end up living a life of thorough bitterness."
As it is, I've never remembered Grandpa as anything but warm and gentle (and, in the later parts of his life, senile), and if being poor meant not being a mean old man to his grandchildren, I think it was worth it in the end.
I think that there have been unduly harsh criticism of -- and, conversely, unjustified emphasis on -- what we now call the "health and wealth gospel." Admittedly, I, too, am sometimes uncomfortable with it, most times, cautious about the dangers of "naming and claiming it." Occasionally, I've even been defensive of it. However, this post isn't about theology, it's about a legacy.
You see, my grandpa, he had health, but it wasn't measured by a blood count; he had health in his heart, and in his soul, whenever he loved and gave so freely, even though he knew -- and from experience -- that every time he did, he ran the risk of being hurt.
My grandpa, he had wealth, but it wasn't measured in dollars and cents; he had the wealth of his family, and the heritage that he passed down, the souls he saved, the lives he touched -- so much wealth that it continues to overflow long after his body is gone.
God knew what my grandpa could handle, and what he couldn't, because He knew his heart. And even though the world tells us that Grandpa'd been shortchanged, God has shown me that He gave him more than enough.
The most important lessons I've learnt, I've learnt from Grandma. Over the weekend, as I was talking to my aunt, I learned something new -- this time, from Grandpa, more than a year after he's passed on.
My grandpa was a man whose heart of generosity far surpassed anyone I've ever known. He always thought the best of everyone, and always gave them the best he could. Unfortunately, this made him most vulnerable to a world who'd learnt to exploit those who trusted the most. He was constantly cheated of his money, and in a crushing blow, he was cheated of the taxi that he drove -- his livelihood.
Grandpa was also very human. Every time his trust was betrayed, he was hurt. This didn't stop him from giving -- that's just the kind of person he is -- but it did make him bitter at times.
"Good thing he wasn't rich," my aunt casually remarked, all the while her eyes never leaving the newspapers, as we sat around for morning coffee. "Otherwise he'd have been cheated of more, and he'd have been hurt more, and he'd end up living a life of thorough bitterness."
As it is, I've never remembered Grandpa as anything but warm and gentle (and, in the later parts of his life, senile), and if being poor meant not being a mean old man to his grandchildren, I think it was worth it in the end.
I think that there have been unduly harsh criticism of -- and, conversely, unjustified emphasis on -- what we now call the "health and wealth gospel." Admittedly, I, too, am sometimes uncomfortable with it, most times, cautious about the dangers of "naming and claiming it." Occasionally, I've even been defensive of it. However, this post isn't about theology, it's about a legacy.
You see, my grandpa, he had health, but it wasn't measured by a blood count; he had health in his heart, and in his soul, whenever he loved and gave so freely, even though he knew -- and from experience -- that every time he did, he ran the risk of being hurt.
My grandpa, he had wealth, but it wasn't measured in dollars and cents; he had the wealth of his family, and the heritage that he passed down, the souls he saved, the lives he touched -- so much wealth that it continues to overflow long after his body is gone.
God knew what my grandpa could handle, and what he couldn't, because He knew his heart. And even though the world tells us that Grandpa'd been shortchanged, God has shown me that He gave him more than enough.
posted by Laughingcow at 3:48 am
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