He Is Risen

He is Risen

As a young teenager during the Great Depression, my grandfather moved far from his home to attend military school. This was an incredible privilege and the opportunity was not taken lightly. His parents did not have considerable means and so the sacrifice to give him a good education was met by taking on extra work and borders in their home to pay the tuition. Every day while at school, my grandfather received a telegram from his father. On Sundays he received a special delivery, so the telegram cost 12 cents instead of the standard delivery of just 1 cent. This helped the distance seem less significant, and my grandfather’s loneliness a little more bearable. 

He greeted Ice cold Missouri mornings by playing reveille on a bugle to wake the sleeping school. It was so cold some mornings it would take bits of skin from his lips as he tore away the frozen metal horn from his mouth. He learned to do hard things, how to work, and most importantly the value of family. 

After graduating from military school, my grandfather joined the Army ROTC and then the  reserve. He received his commission as an active duty officer in the U.S  Army the day before Pearl Harbor was attacked. With the United States now entering the Second World War, it did not take long before he found himself fully engaged in the war effort in the south Pacific. The horrors of Okinawa left him with a firm resolve to not tolerate violence for the rest of his life. If a violent scene came on the TV, he would leave the room. If it appeared in a movie, he would not finish watching the film.  If a quarrel erupted, he calmly found a peaceful solution. 

After the war on his birthday, he married the love of his life, the daughter of Swedish immigrants. Completely committed to each other, they raised one daughter of their own, my mother. He understood the purpose of his career  was to support his family as a provider. His family was always first, a fact that lives in the hearts of all who knew and loved him even to this day. 

His sweetheart passed out of this life long before he did. He remained committed to the welfare of his family to his dying day-- a day I was blessed to spend with him. I can’t help but think of my grandfather when I hear the words of J.R.R. Tolkien: “Deep roots are not reached by the frost.” My grandfather dealt with the bitter cold of loss, pain, and heartache with courage and fortitude. His life was deeply rooted in the welfare of his family. As he took his final breaths, there by his side I held his hand. As his final moments drew closer, he sat up, looked me in the eye, and without a word, I could see his struggle to stay a little longer and do a little more for his loved ones, despite the pain he was in. There was sincere concern in his eyes as he questioned me, spirit to spirit. I replied with a smile, assuring him everything was okay. He did not need to worry anymore; he had done far more than enough. I then clearly saw in his eyes peace and a true sense of catharsis. Relief washed over him; he laid back, closed his eyes, took his final, noble breath, and moved out of this world and into the next.

Because of Jesus Christ, death has lost its sting. He is the ultimate champion of the human family. In a coming day we will be reunited with all of our loved ones and see God Himself in the flesh.

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