Tuesday, October 14, 2014


When we're young, it is easy to believe that life progresses as we direct it. The longer we live and the more we experience, we quickly realize that control is nothing but an illusion that quickly collapses, specifically when "bad things happen to good people." Then, we begin to have this sneaking suspicion that life is merely a series of events strung together. Then we live longer, and begin to see patterns. I haven't reached the pattern-realizing stage, but I know people who have. I sat with my grandmother today as the rain pounded the on the windows of her small house. She told me stories of how the "good Lord provided." At first, a felt this was a random monologue comprised of unrelated tales. The stories resolved into tidy endings: endings that, I believed, were simply the byproducts of good fortune. However, as the stories multiplied, I realized a constant theme of faithfulness. Money arriving just in time to pay for my grandfather's caregiving, or the house note, or the grocery bill.
Money was never an issue, until Larry began to show signs of dementia. As he declined in mental stability and his brain succumbed to the damage it received through years of playing professional football, his business decisions became erratic and irresponsible. Friends distanced themselves, confused by my grandfather's actions. The mansion on the river was soon repossessed, forcing my grandmother to find ways to support both herself and her husband. They lived in show houses for almost three years, moving at least 5 times within that time span. At 55 years old, Kay took two college courses to learn computers so she could be an effective administrative assistant and pay the bills. She struggled through the difficulty of her new job. Larry followed her there most days- confused and angry at his inability to provide. Social situations were often unbearable, and resulted in an awkward explanation of my grandfather's condition.
"Eventually, it becomes an adventure-you wake up every morning excited to discover how He's going to get you through another impossible situation."
My grandmother then explained how she'd be up in the most of the night, changing grandfather, only to wake up early to arrive at her minimum wage job on time.
"Somehow, we made it. Barely. I never asked for help unless someone asked. Someone always asked when my situation was most desperate, and then I wasn't too proud to tell them."
Larry Morris died on December 19, 2012.
His life will be a reminder of patterns and design- through life's greatest hardships and most confusing, unfair, and unspeakable tragedies, there is not only hope, but purpose.

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