Grandpa

So my Grandpa died this week.   He was 92.   Paul Eby.  He was a force.  Devoted Christian, husband, father, farmer, SS teacher, Amish driver, cemetery walker, auto parts deliveryman.  He was lots of things. But to me, he was Grandpa.

He died on Wednesday morning while I was more than 3000 miles away, getting ready for barrio clinics. He died less than two weeks from his 93 birthday, while one of his daughters had just become a grandmother to a new grandson, one is battling cancer, and while my dad was kinda far from home too.  And I haven't actually really processed it at all.   I've been in the midst of barrio clinics with a phenom group of students from Utah that have thrown themselves full heartedly into caring for and loving on the people here.  Cool to see even in the midst of thinking and worrying about stuff on the States-side.     And Joe and Shannon, the jefes on the states-side, were in town this past week and it's amazing to share the vision that we all have and are psyched about for Solid Rock and our lives here.  

But on Thursday Monchi and I snuck away to Bastida on our lunch break at the barrio clinics.  And Baby Nicole is WALKING.   I saw her before we stopped the truck and she was toddling around outside laughing and staggering and she was BEAUTIFUL.   And she even let me snuggle her a little bit before she started whining and sniveling.  And she reached her chubby little hands out to me.   And I thought again how precious is this life...and how quickly it can come and go.   How it melted me last weekend to be with my cousins via Skype as they welcomed my adorable new cousin Caleb into the world.   How precious a moment!   Caleb won't grow up and know his Great Grandpa Eby.  But he WILL grow up to know Jesus...because his parents do...... like my Grandpa did.  And THAT is a legacy that we will all carry carefully in our hands and hearts and remember.  

And I booked my flight QUICKLY to come home and I'm not quite ready... in my soul and heart and with my lack-of-sleep-schedule.   I don't even remember what I may have packed in my final frenzy trying to prepare yesterday and get all my ducks in a row.  But I WILL be ready.  We did all my favorite things last night in San Juan.  Hung out a little, rode the pasola to a ball game and stopped for chimis on the way, played dominos and danced a little bachata on the street corner (just for a minute),  ate M&Ms and drank chinola juice,  laughed, prayed together (out loud in spanish- holy cow), and cried a little bit.   And Laura and I talked for a long time sitting on the bathroom floor like we do sometimes.    I'm ready to see my family and friends that I love so much.    I'm just not ready in a put-together-way yet.    But it's okay.    We are going to celebrate 92 years of Paul Eby tomorrow and Monday.  We are going to remember him and tell stories and laugh and cry and maybe even sing a little bit.   

Life.  Wonder.  I believe.