How Wonderful!

My dad used to play the mini violin in the air for me growing up.   This happened often.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's the sympathy violin - the one that responds readily to the "woe is me's" and the "my life is the hardest life in the history of life" kind of phrases.  Those moments with my dad looked something like this:

It's not that my dad wasn't sympathetic; it's that I was a complainer.  I complained about everything:  the cream of wheat dad made was too hot, my pop-tarts weren't hot enough, basketball was exhausting, piano was too hard, I had more homework than anyone in the entire high school, and my bangs would never. ever. stay sprayed the right way.  

Life was tough.  And so I complained about it.  

And so should I really be surprised when my seven year old daughter rolls around on the ground (um, not exaggerating) over the state of our car?   This is the train of complaints heard most recently about this horrid problem:  How do you expect me to sit in this car with crumbs everywhere?  The crumbs sit under me and make me itch!  And then all I do is itch all the way to school...and at school...I just itch and it's all because of this car!  And I have to hold all my stuff in the car so my stuff doesn't touch the crumbs and then my legs get way too tired from holding my stuff.  And I can't even run at recess!   

It's a tough life she leads.  And it gets even tougher when I remind her who put the crumbs in her seat in the first place.  

I often think about my grandfather when I get sucked into the ease of complaining about my misfortunes in life.  And it does happen with ease, doesn't it?  It's just way too easy to complain about what could have been better, what should be easier, and what isn't going right.  

But my grandpa just had a totally different way of looking at life.  Life to my grandfather was wonderful.  

I will always remember the questions he'd ask about about our ongoings and with each description (difficult or not), he'd respond with an emphatic and hearty: "Wonderful!"  He'd open his arms for an embrace and say with a smile, "Wonderful!"  

Several years ago, grandpa and I were chatting in front of the fireplace in my house while they were in town for a visit.  I asked him how he was doing since he was in the midst of trying to pass several kidney stones:    

"Are you in pain, grandpa?"  

"Yes," and he said it with a smile.  "It's just so wonderful to be here with you all."  

And not another word the entire evening about the pain plaguing his body.  There was never a complaint about the suffering he faced in life:  cancer,  heart issues,  even losing a daughter...my grandfather never ever complained.  

So what was it that was so wonderful for my grandfather?  How is it that life was worthy to live without complaint?  

He loved Jesus with everything he had.  His relationship with Jesus was clear in every conversation and in every aspect of his life.  The saving work of Jesus was wonderful to my grandfather, and his trust in this Savior flowed out in a fierce way.  I could not sit down with grandpa without being reminded that God is in control, that prayer is necessary, and that Scripture is powerful.  In life and in death, he knew the Word is penetrating to the soul.  

He was on his knees before God with every difficulty our family faced and with every praise for the One from whom all blessings flow.  I desire so much to emulate his perspective on life.  His lack of complaining was not inauthentic; he was honest while holding tightly to the promises found in Scripture.  

And if those promises penetrate our hearts, how can we not rejoice in the midst of difficulty?  If we truly believe that our help comes from the LORD the maker of heaven and earth, how can we not respond with praise in the trials?  How can we not give thanks for both the peaks and the valleys, as difficult as that may be at times.  

Our grumblings are sometimes so trivial in light of eternity.  Our small complaints are mere moments of forgetfulness for what we have been given even now:  Life.  Breath.  Shelter.  Family.  Friendships.  Church homes.  Beautiful scenery.  Jobs.  Sunsets and flowers and food that tastes so good, and what we have been promised will come:  Eternity with Jesus.  A new heavens and new earth filled with all goodness and perfection.  Life without sin and sorrow.  

And this is nothing less than wonderful.  It's wonderful.  

Yesterday I called to check on my grandpa and while on the phone, it became clear in a matter of seconds that grandpa was going home to Jesus.  I pulled into the parking lot at my kid's school and wept along with my aunt and grandma on the other end of the phone.  I listened over the speaker to the heart-wrenching sounds of grief as grandpa took his last breath.  In that same moment I watched as a group of young girls headed out excitedly for a birthday party.  

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  Blessed be the name of the LORD."  

And the grief was devastatingly wonderful as I listened:  "Do you see Jesus?  You're surrounded by angels and glory."  

Last night when I went to tuck in my youngest, I found this on her desk:  

People who died in my family:  Ya Ya, March 15, 2016; Pa Pa Rodney, March 9, 2003; Grandpa B., April 18, 2016.  

"And mom, they're all in heaven with Jesus so we will see them again."  

Be still my soul.  

Isn't it wonderful.