The Man in My Life

John Robert Cumpston. To those who know him at a distance he is John. To his wife, family, and close friends he is Bob. To his children he is Dad. And to me… he’s my Grandpa.

I am unabashedly, unashamedly, undeniably a Grandpa’s girl.

It hasn’t always been that way, though, as a child I was usually afraid of him and making him mad, not that he was around enough for that to really happen. Usually about the time we would be making our way to my grandparents’ house, he’d be headed off to one of the local bars. If he was there, we were all pretty careful not to do or say anything that might upset him. I remember one Father’s Day when we arrived at their house he was reclining in his lawn chair very much asleep. As I was getting out of the car I was instructed to give him his card and a hug. The thought terrified me, not because I feared he’d hurt me but because he wasn’t easily approachable, so I took what seemed to me to be the easy way out. I laid the card on his chest and instead of hugging him I walked behind his chair and kissed the middle of his balding head.

I was in fourth grade when my grandparents divorced. After that I saw my grandfather even less than I had before. Then gradually he started appearing at family gatherings. I’d hear that he and my grandmother were spending time together. Once, my brother and I even got to accompany them on a date to Sea World (talk about weird!). It seems he realized that his life was incomplete without his wife. As he continued to try to win her back, he realized that wasn’t all his life was missing. He began attending church with my grandmother and in one service he surrendered his life to Christ.

John Robert Cumpston became a new man.

Different members of the family all point to different events that prove to them how much he has changed. I think the one that stands out most to me happened during one visit to my grandparents’ home shortly after they had gotten remarried. (Attending your grandparents’ wedding ceremony is another strange experience!) When I walked through the door, he looked at me and said, “There’s the first woman president of the United States!” (Maybe that’s why he wasn’t much of a Hillary fan?)

I had no plans to run one-day run for president (and still don’t), but to receive that kind of affirmation - at a time when I was beginning to realize that my other grandfather was not the man I thought he was and both of my grandmothers were always trying to “fix” me – from a man who rarely bothered to notice me, meant more than he could ever know.

Several years later, I was in need of a larger bookcase, so I asked him if he would make me one. Not long before my next birthday, we arrived home to find not only a bookcase but a matching shelf and mirror sitting on the back porch. I was thrilled and quickly filled it with books. It now sits in my apartment along with two others and a large hutch. (He once promised me a nicer hutch when I got married, but I think he got tired of having it sit around and gave it to someone else.) He has never taken the “Love Languages” test, but it seems to me that he most easily shows love by doing things and making things for others, so as I look around my little house I feel much loved.

One of the greatest misgivings I have had since moving so far away from my family is that something will happen to any of my family members, but most especially my grandfather, while I am gone. In the past 10-15 years he has been through heart attacks, open-heart surgeries, bypasses, a pacemaker, a defibrillator, colon cancer, diabetes, and eye surgeries. Recently he has been experiencing unexplained broken ribs. At first they thought perhaps it was just age causing brittle bones, but now they are apparently not so sure. On Tuesday, they’ll be testing his bone marrow to rule out any more serious causes.

Between now and hearing the test results, I’ll be worried. I’ll be worried, but not afraid. I will not be afraid because know that those many years ago my grandfather placed his life in the hands of One who loves him far more than I ever can or will.

Christmas Swords

In the room next to me are sleeping two little boys very excited to see what the morning will bring. Their gift list is rather simple: new swords, ninja gear, and army stuff (and I happen to know they will not be disappointed). Like many little boys they have a constant desire to avenge the world of all evil, knowing their trusty weapons will rid the world of "bad guys." In some ways it seems incongruous that at a time of “peace on earth, goodwill toward men” a child would be focused on tools of violence. Surely swords and Christmas don’t go together…do they?

For several years it has been my personal Christmas tradition to re-read Cosmic Christmas by Max Lucado. The extra-biblical account is given from the perspective of the angel Gabrielle. I like this little book because it shatters the “all is calm, all is bright/silent night” conception I tend to build around the Christmas story. While I understand the story is fiction, following the journey of Gabrielle from his assignment to bring the good news to a young virgin to leading the angel choir in songs of glory and worship, it gives me a fresh perspective. Gabrielle’s assignment is not an easy one. The book gets its title from a cosmic battle that takes place between the angels and the demons who are seeking to prevent the birth of the Christ-child. It takes the complete book for Gabrielle to realize the entirety of the gift God is giving to man and why Satan is willing to go to such lengths to stop it.

Lucado stops his story-telling at the birth of Christ but another author told us what happened next. In the book of Matthew we are given Herod reaction to the birth of the new King. Herod’s pride and lust for power couldn’t allow him to tolerate the thought of anyone who might one day usurp his throne, so when the Magi came seeking the Christ he immediately began planning to destroy the Child. God’s providence protected Joseph, Mary, and Jesus but the remaining children of Bethlehem fell victim to Herod’s army.

In the gospel of Luke, we are told of the trip to the temple for the purification sacrifice following the birth. While there Mary is given a strange blessing by Simeon. “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” In this time of greatest joy there was always the reminder that Christ’s coming was not only going to bring gladness but that there would also be pain and suffering.

Christmas is a time of great joy and gladness and celebration. A time of spending time with family and friends, laughing and loving, giving and receiving. But in the midst of that we need to be constantly reminding ourselves that the point of Christmas is not to focus on an infant, but on a Savior. A Savior whose death and resurrection is the ultimate triumph over all evil.  

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas?

Have you ever noticed how many things you ask for with conditions attached?

We haven't had significant snow for the past three Christmases since I've been travelling home from South Carolina. I happen to love snow, so I've been pretty disappointed. There is really nothing like the peace and tranquility of being outside watching the snow fall. I miss seeing everything covered in a blanket of white and not worrying about what you have to get done because you know there is no hope of you going anywhere. I love snow!

Not only have I been wanting to see snow but I think Alyssa, Raymond, and Alex have been praying for snow since August (or whenever it was finally decided that they were all joining me on this trek to Ohio), and if anyone fits the description of "faith of child" it is these three!

As the date of departure drifts closer I am realizing that I didn't just want snow, I wanted it to snow my way. I wanted just the right amounts to fall at just the right times and in just the right places. We are supposed to leave in a little more than 36 hours and words like "sleet," "ice," and "major snow storm" are starting to find their way into discussions about weather along the East Coast. It wasn't supposed to snow in huge amounts. It wasn't supposed to snow right before and while we were driving. It wasn't supposed to snow in the places that don't know how to handle it (i.e. anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line). It was supposed to snow my way!

I know at this point anything can happen. I know things often end up nothing like the weathermen predict. I know I am being somewhat overdramatic. ...But there is a reason to my ranting...

It was just another example of how determined I tend to be that things either happen my way, or not at all. Another example of how I hate uncertainty. Another example of why I need to learn that my plans don't matter. Another example of my needing to let go and have faith.

A Tentative Step...

I honestly don't know if this is something I will keep up with. I have been playing around with the different Google Products all day and was just wondering what went into setting up a blog. I am also procrastinating, I have some Geography Bee quizzes to score and would really rather not. Frankly, after the week we have had, doing work once I get home is the farthest thing from my mind, but such is the life of a public educator! So I should probably get to it....