the measure of a life

I got the call at a little before 3:30 AM last Sunday. My dad had breathed his last. My mom held his hand during those last moments. It was just the way she wanted it. The past 16 months were difficult, an emotional roller coaster ride as he battled with cancer.

It was on January 6, 1930 that a little red headed boy entered the world. For him, life proved difficult. He lost four family members within the first six years of life. The most crushing blow was the farm accident on a warm July afternoon the killed his father and fatally injured his older brother. He watched his father breath his last as he succumbed to his injuries that afternoon. His brother passed away on the day of his father's funeral. And so he grew up with a mother and two older sisters. Those events shaped him deeply, both positively and negatively.

He was a man of small stature, standing only 5-1. Yet he was a man of great stature as long as the orphan issues did not surface. Those issues were evident until the very end. On the other hand, the greatness of the man was evident even after the end.

His veiwing and funeral services were a testament to him being a man of great stature. The six and a half hours it took for the veiwing on Tuesday spoke of the caliber of life he lived. I heard stories about him that I had never known, things he had done for people that no one knew save himself and the person he touched. People came from all over the country to wait for several hours to pay their last respect.

He was a bit of a rebel, often thinking and acting outside the accepted norm for the conservative church world in which he lived. He was a visionary, trying new things that others refused to try. He succeeded in the business world against all odds. Yet the overriding theme in the stories I heard had nothing to do with any of these things. The stories had to do with personal touch, acceptance, and love.

I watched grown men weep as they stood by his casket. He was like a brother...he was like a father...he was always my favorite uncle..

The measure of a life can be seen, not in the things we accumulate or in the success we may have. No, it is found in the realm of the heart, in the life of men and women that experienced a bit of God's character through the attitudes and actions of a flawed man.