Some People Find Gold Pretty Boring

This week we are mourning the loss of my father-in-law. He passed away on Monday, August 22, after a battle with leukemia. He was 72.

I was at the beach with the kids and my family, and my husband was at home when we got the news. My mother-in-law called me and I called Matthew. Telling my husband that his father had passed away was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

It turned out to be providential timing that we were in separate cities as Matthew was able to deal with family things right away and had already taken the week off of work. I was able to keep the kids entertained and occupied. It was hard to be apart but it was for the best.

When I sat the kids down to tell them that Grandpa had passed away I was really glad to have my brother and sister there with me. The kids were both really quiet and then Hannah whispered, "Is Grandma really sad?" Then after a bit more Christopher said, "You know, some people find gold pretty boring." It took a little bit of discussion to tease that one out but in the end we learned he was saying that heaven isn't that great of a place and why would Grandpa want to be there anyway? After a couple of minutes of quiet discussion the kids asked to go watch TV and headed into the other room. Pretty typical, I've been told. In our regular lives they talk about heaven and dying so often that this wasn't as much to process as it might be for other kids. I've been wondering if their obsession with the afterlife is healthy, turns out it really is.

After the majority of funeral plans were underway Matthew was able to come back to the beach for a couple of days. It was really nice to be together as a family and relax before heading back for the funeral.

None of us were upset about needing to come back two days early but we were actually pleased that the timing worked out the way it did. If we had left any later we would have been evacuated ahead of Hurricane Irene and stuck in traffic for hours. God really does work things out for our good.

The funeral was yesterday. It was sad. The kids were really good. After the service I joked that keeping Christopher still in his seat was a lot like holding a cat in a bathtub for an hour, but really he was very good.

The overarching message at the funeral was that my father-in-law ran the good race and ran it hard. He loved the poor and the orphans and the widows and those far from God. He loved people with all his might. He loved his kids and especially his grandkids. He and my mother-in-law were missionaries that visited over 20 countries, loving people and sharing the Good News of God's love. They prayed God's healing over countless people and cast out demons and prayed the presence of the Lord into many unreached places. He got sick while working in India and Nepal.

At the graveside I was very glad we decided to leave the kids back at the church with friends. I know I would have been chasing them around the cemetery trying to keep them from climbing the gravestones.

My father-in-law played the shofar and played it well. He taught Christopher to play. At the end of the graveside service two of his friends played their shofars and it was beautiful. Then my mother-in-law stood and led us in Amazing Grace. I was proud. Genuinely proud. She demonstrated such strength, more than I could in her place.

Our Bible study, family and friends brought food to feed more than 200 people. We have such good friends. Many of them had never even met my father-in-law, but they love us and they served our need.

It was a great day, and a sad day. I don't want to forget it, so I'm posting it here.