Years ago my outlook on life was extremely black and white.
The world was divided into right and wrong; yes and no.
It either was or it wasn’t.
Somewhere in the midst of growing up and learning about myself and the world around me,
I started to see things differently. I slowly learned the art of living in the grey – within the median.
I’m no expert on the grey now, don’t let me fool you.
Oh no, I still like things done my way (don’t lie… you know you do, too) – but now I’m ok as long as everyone’s hearts are at peace.
On Thursday, November 8, I lost my grandpa. It was probably the hardest event I have ever lived through.
That man… oh, that man was my heart.
And in the days before his passing, in between breathing treatments and naps, he held my hand and told me that he’s so proud of the woman I’ve grown up to be – and that he’s proud he finally got it through my thick head that my way isn’t the only way. (I may have rolled my eyes. I mean, come on, really? I’m a blubbering mess and he’s cracking jokes about me finally getting out of my shell. Sheesh!)
And that was one of the first lessons my grandpa taught me, knee deep in the river fishing for half pounders: Jesus first, family second, and everything else after that. The way of Jesus is the only way.
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