{Literary Thursday} Robert Louis Stevenson

       If you've followed me, you may know that the first book I actually read and enjoyed this summer was Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. The author has enormous power to captivate and maintain the attention of any audience. With a fast pace that doesn't forgo any details, I marvel at his ability to make complex things easier to understand. The novel, written from a young boy's perspective, reveals to us the vicious, greedy, volatile world of cutthroat pirates hunting for legendary treasure. Trust me. If I can find true delight in such a grimy subject, so can you. Please! Go read it.
       For those of you who don't know, my great grandpa Bill passed away early Monday morning. It was expected and prepared for, and I was able to say goodbye to him. Though this did alleviate many of my previous unsureties about death and all that it entails, it didn't necessarily mean the past few days haven't been rough. We began planning his burial and memorial that day, and coordinating a thousand schedules to meet one vital deadline is next to impossible. I can only say that God has granted us many miracles, and I could not be grateful enough.
       On Tuesday, I accompanied my great grandmother (his wife) Shirley and my grandmother Mary to the cemetery in San Diego where Grandpa is to be buried tomorrow. We spent three hours discussing the service with an impeccably dressed ("snazzy" is the best word I can conjure for his appearance) funeral director, who helped us fine tune all the details. Grandma Shirley picked out one of the program templates for the memorial service, and as I reviewed it I discovered a beautiful poem, "The Swing," printed on the back that had been selected by the family of another deceased. To my surprise, it was by the very same Robert Louis Stevenson whose writing style I fell in love with months ago.

       How do you like to go up in a swing,
       Up in the air so blue?
       Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
       Ever a child can do!

       Up in the air and over the wall,
       Till I can see so wide,
       River and trees and cattle and all
       Over the countryside--

       Till I look down on the garden green,
       Down on the roof so brown--
       Up in the air I go flying again,
       Up in the air and down!

       I found it quite lovely.

       It is a strange and unique phase, that of dying. While some may watch it happen daily, as those who pursue the hospice profession do, most of the world may deal with the death of a loved one very few times throughout their life. Even then, unless the person is immediately related to you, it's unlikely that you will have much involvement in their transition from life to death. What a rare opportunity it is to experience such a thing firsthand, especially as a youngster like me.

       Three months ago, I was going absolutely out of my mind for lack of plans after my high school graduation. Countless nights and half my spring break was spent stewing and fretting over the next chapter of my life. I've always been obsessive about having everything planned, organized, and prepared for in advance, and here I sat, with no view of the horizon. If you're like me, you know that it was the cruelest of nightmares. One evening as I drove with my mother, the Great Wise One, I was rehashing all my silly fears to her and suddenly she stopped me and asked me what I wanted to do right at that moment. I looked incredulously at her and blurted that I just wanted to go to California. And so, it was. This has been a brief but necessary and wonderful calling.

       My grandfather was already far downhill by the time I arrived, but I had a multitude of pleasant and in-depth conversations with him throughout the two months we spent together. I have learned so many lessons about faith, patience, humility, charity, empathy, forgiveness, and love since I've been here. My great grandparents are a shining example of what it truly means to honor the covenants made within a marriage, and I have no doubt their bond is an eternal one. I've learned to trust the Lord to give me guidance even when I feel completely insufficient to make big decisions for myself or for those I've been assigned to look after. He has not failed me.

       The most immense blessing came from watching Grandpa descend into his final hours in peace. I knew this was part of the job description before I came, and I was dreadfully concerned for my own emotional stability until I talked to one of my closest friends, who, I am grateful to say, will be in attendance at the funeral tomorrow. He reminded me that I knew exactly where my grandfather was going after he passed, and so did he. My task was simply to help him reach that point with happiness and courage. This conversation changed my viewpoint entirely, and gave me the brightest outlook possible. Grandpa Bill always knew what he was headed for, and he did not fear it. Naturally, he mentioned a few times that he was nervous, but in the end he was ready and he left on his own time. Observing his passing has given me a special memory of the past, reverence for the present, and an indescribable hope for the future. Dear friends, never forget. This is not the end.

Happy trusting.