Today, May 5th 2012, is my grandfather's 93rd birthday.  Or would have been.  I'm honestly not sure which tense to use.  He died a few weeks ago, on April 23rd.  It was sudden, but peaceful and merciful.  The Petersburg paper ran a lovely news article. The funeral was last Friday, the 27th, and there was a memorial at his retirement community Saturday the 28th for those who could not come Friday.  My cousin Jay spoke on behalf of my cousins at the funeral, and I spoke Saturday.  Below is the draft text of what I said.  

It has been said that good writers borrow from other writers, while great writers steal outright. My oldest cousin, Jay, spoke yesterday, and while I will not steal everything he said, I do wish to share one piece from his remarks.   

A few days ago, Jay asked each of the grandchildren to send him one word to describe our grandfather.   Those words were: love, sweet, wise, faith, distinguished, teacher and model.  While all of these words are apt descriptions of the man, they are, of course, incomplete descriptions of our feelings.  While I understand and agree with each of the words used, I want to take this time to violate Jay’s directive to limit ourselves to one word and speak some to my choice.

          A few years ago, I realized that like my grandfather, I was called to enter the ministry.  I began by spending a year working in Northern Ireland, and while there, applied to several seminaries, including his own Union, just up the road in Richmond.  Because I was abroad at the time, I did not do any traditional campus visits, but ultimately decided to come here, to what is now Union Presbyterian Seminary.  In August of 2010, my father and I came here to pick granddad up to go walk around campus.  The seminary had been informed of our visit, and was kind enough to arrange a current student to meet us and show us around.  Much of the campus had changed in the 62 year interval since he had graduated, but many elements remained the same, and he and my father remembered many places from when granddad was a student and my father a young child, including even the pew where they often sat during chapel services.  I am incredibly grateful that my first introduction to campus occurred that day, with him.  Dad, I’m glad you were there too.  

          One question sometimes asked of prospective ministers is who or what their model for ministry is.  My grandfather, who I grew up calling Bubba (which I think may have caused some irritation to others, but never to him) is both the most exceptional and daunting model I could have.  I always knew that he set a high bar.  The stories I have heard over the past few days, featuring his abundance of courage, kindness, humility, and patience have only served to raise that bar further.  I was never under the illusion that I could fully measure to the standard he set, I only hope that his memory will serve to ensure that I always strive emulate his courage, kindness and patience, while also reminding me of the need to remain ever humble.