As I was woken up the other morning with the news that my grandpa had passed away, I decided to read psalm 103, a psalm I've always liked. It wasn't until I'd read the chapter several times through throughout the day, that I paid close attention to verse 17 which reads, "But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord ’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children." If you're all as slow as me, "children's children" means grandchildren. How fitting that the grandchild of a God-fearing man was to read that particular verse the morning of his grandfather's death. God's timing continues to bring great comfort to me in all aspects of life.
The last several months, while living in Nicaragua, I've had countless flashbacks to times on Flaming Gorge Reservoir, the place I've had the best memories with Papa. I've been taking those memories as a time to pray for my grandpa's health as well as for God's comfort in both he and my grandma's lives. Now as I sit here, I am blessed with the opportunity to reflect. A majority of the trips we took to Flaming Gorge, it was Papa, my dad, my brother Jake and I that went, occasionally graced by the presence of our cousin Jackson. Those early mornings staying in a cheap motel, we'd wake up to Papa yelling "Reveille, Reveille, all hands hit the deck. Sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms..." While I hated it then, it has become a good memory. I think the one time I can recall him not waking us up to that chant was when he was busy yelling to my dad, "look, Jake and Isaac are spooning!" Jake had opened the room window the night before, only to leave Papa finding the two of us in a huddled mass the next morning.
Time on the lake was the best, as Jake would sleep and watch movies at the front of the boat while the three of us fished. Papa gave me an earful when I would join Jake to take a nap when things weren't happening on the fishing end. I've never been proud to be known as the "sleepingest kid he ever met", but I took it the best I could, knowing he only slept four hours a night.
We would spend the whole day out there on the lake. And I'll never get the picture out of my head of Papa holding his fishing pole with one hand and either a sand which, a donut, a cup of coffee or a fistful of twizzlers in the other. He knew full well Mac fishing was a two handed job. Needless to say he missed a few extra hits in his old age, but I've forgiven him for it.
I know I said the time on the lake was the best, but the evenings were the best too. Papa would grill us something on the two-legged charcoal grill that was supposed to be a tripod. It still cracks me up thinking of the time it fell over and he was hollering at jake and I to pick up the coals. Jake and I ran out there with spoons to grab the coals, as Papa was bare-handing them like they were ice cubes. Goodness that man had tough hands... maybe one of the reasons they called him "knucks" in the old days ;).
After a great meal came unending games of scrabble, 42 and cards. Given Papa wasn't a great loser, we rarely got to bed before midnight. I guess that's where I get it from.
Eventually we'd get to sleep, only to do it all over again the next morning, with hopes that we would out fish the local guide, Jim Williams. If Papa were still alive today, he'd love to tell you that his son Keith is as good o' fishing guide as anyone on the Gorge.
I got to see Papa one last time as I visited family in Utah over Christmas. The first day I got to talk to him a couple weeks ago, he sat barely conscious in his wheelchair. Although he could hear everything we said, he didn't respond much, if any. As we were about to leave I said, "Hey Papa. Remember when you, my dad and I tripled up on the Gorge." As a huge smile covered his face in response, I knew he'd been reminiscing many of those same memories I just wrote about. Two days later I visited him for the last time. He was in much better shape and was able to talk to us a little. I made him a promise that no matter where I was in the world, I'd be telling people about Jesus, so we could all be rejoicing eternally with our Savior when all this pain had passed. He liked that. Makes me think of years ago, when he was in good health and we were together singing "wring it out" in the nursing home Sunday nights. I love my grandpa like crazy, and I intend to keep my promise to him. So while I'd like to be at his funeral, I'll be here in Nicaragua, telling folks about the hope we have in Jesus.
"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day, and not only me, but all who have longed for his appearing." -2 Timothy 4:7-8
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