My Grandfather By Choice

As I near the end of 2011, I have reflected on some of the events, good and bad, that have shaped my life in this year. The following occurred in March and changed me forever.

Some people teach us by the way they live, but some teach us by the way they die. One such person was the man I called Papaw Weakley. He wasn't my grandfather by blood, but rather by choice. You see when I was very young, my family moved to east Tennessee where my father began pastoring a church. This meant that at a young age, I moved away from both sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Within three years of moving to Tennessee both of my father's parents passed away. It was in this time that Bishop Eugene Weakley, then state overseer of Tennessee, and his wife stepped in and became the grandparents I did not have.  For as long as I can remember I have called him my Papaw and her my Mamaw. Even now, at 25, I refer to them as my grandparents.

Some time ago, he was diagnosed with cancer, but with treatment he had remained in good health. Towards the beginning of the year, the doctors discovered that his cancer had returned and had spread throughout his body. He was given no hope and a hospital bed was brought into his home to make him as comfortable as possible. In the last few weeks of his life, my parents and I made countless hour long journeys to be with my Papaw, Mamaw, and the rest of my adopted family. I will never forget those last few days with him, because they taught me so much.

Even though he was given no hope, he always spoke of God's faithfulness. Even though his body was destroyed by disease, we would spend time in prayer together thanking God for His goodness. When we first learned of the severity of his illness, my father was in Panama preaching. When he was able to return, my mother and I picked him up at the airport and headed straight for the Weakley's home. The only thing my Papaw wanted to discuss was what dad saw in Panama. He begged my father to tell him more about the revival he saw amongst the young people in central and south America. I watched as he had the young ministers in the room gather around and hear what God was doing. I watched as he wept and told my Mamaw how wonderful it would be to see such a move of God.

In his last days I saw the value of having a companion with a like heart towards ministry. Mamaw Weakley was fiercely protective of that man. She loved him the way she loves everyone, extravagantly. They would talk for hours about their travels ministering and about how good God, and the people of Tennessee, had been to them. I watched as she just wanted to be by his side at all times. I saw exactly the kind of marriage I would hope to have; in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, 'til death do them part.

The final time I got to tell him goodbye while he was still able to communicate well I will never forget. We ended our time in prayer, as always, and then I hugged him goodbye and told him "I love you, Papaw". In that moment he looked at me and said "I know that God has something special planned for your life." I will never forget those words as long as I live and I hope I always make him proud.