I spoke with my grandfather the other day.
He is a larger man with a history of scowls, with glasses perched on the Redinger nose, his balded crown paired with white whisp all around. He is a man who prides himself with interesting facts, wood-working, and knowing how pieces of the world fit together. (for an poem I write about my grandpa's woodworking, check out THIS link!)
Each year we visit my grandparents around Christmas time. When I was younger I feared him- not anything tangible, but I feared conversation. When he spoke to me in witty one-liners, odd jokes, sage advice beyond my years, I never had a good response for him. He had a great joke, as which he called me "George." I knew he knew my name, but he would still holler over "come on over here, George!" So I often listened for a bit, then ducked away to easier conversation, or a game my cousins were playing.
This year was different. This year I decided to lean into conversation with him. Through thoughtful pauses, his reflections and ponderings come out with a causal pace. I had to be patient to listen. But it was well worth it. One thing that my grandfather has asked me often in the last couple years is "can you figure out how this fits together?" Often he will point at a piece of furniture, or a wooden box he has crafted. After I have taken a genuine interest in learning some woodworking hints from him over the years, I have been more keen to listen. However, this other night was different.
This conversation began with my grandfather asking me the same question. Somehow our conversation was directed to geometry, and eventually the impossibilities of a tesseract shape being folded into itself, to the universal language of frequencies between music and mathematics, eventually binary numbers and the math beyond computer function and the multiple dimensions of the universe. Wowie! Much of this conversation consisted of my grandpa giving me facts, leading me to respond with 'silly' questions before he continued on. Probably 75% of this was over my head, but I continued leaning in because I wanted to understand. The point that he was trying to hammer through was how complicated yet connected the entire world was. He was succeeding. At least on the complicated part.
"Do you want me to blow your mind a little further?"
Grandpa Ralph then paused, looked at me and gently said, "and you know what, all of this points us right back to Christ."
So much of this universe and its dimensions..so much of it incomprehensible for our human minds.
I smiled. He continued "You know, because His ways are not my ways."
My grandpa then went on to share about the 'New Jerusalem,' about Revelation and Jesus' return. He shared about heaven, about billions and billions of rooms, about what was really important in the new Kingdom. He shared about God's knowledge of the hairs on each of our heads, with a twinkle in his eye he reflected on the great expanse of God's imagination and His love for us. He made sure to make a cheesy joke in the middle of all of it, followed by a deep belly laugh.
He knew he had my attention.
And for one of the first times, I was joyful that he did.
Ephesians 3:16-19
He is a larger man with a history of scowls, with glasses perched on the Redinger nose, his balded crown paired with white whisp all around. He is a man who prides himself with interesting facts, wood-working, and knowing how pieces of the world fit together. (for an poem I write about my grandpa's woodworking, check out THIS link!)
Each year we visit my grandparents around Christmas time. When I was younger I feared him- not anything tangible, but I feared conversation. When he spoke to me in witty one-liners, odd jokes, sage advice beyond my years, I never had a good response for him. He had a great joke, as which he called me "George." I knew he knew my name, but he would still holler over "come on over here, George!" So I often listened for a bit, then ducked away to easier conversation, or a game my cousins were playing.
This year was different. This year I decided to lean into conversation with him. Through thoughtful pauses, his reflections and ponderings come out with a causal pace. I had to be patient to listen. But it was well worth it. One thing that my grandfather has asked me often in the last couple years is "can you figure out how this fits together?" Often he will point at a piece of furniture, or a wooden box he has crafted. After I have taken a genuine interest in learning some woodworking hints from him over the years, I have been more keen to listen. However, this other night was different.
This conversation began with my grandfather asking me the same question. Somehow our conversation was directed to geometry, and eventually the impossibilities of a tesseract shape being folded into itself, to the universal language of frequencies between music and mathematics, eventually binary numbers and the math beyond computer function and the multiple dimensions of the universe. Wowie! Much of this conversation consisted of my grandpa giving me facts, leading me to respond with 'silly' questions before he continued on. Probably 75% of this was over my head, but I continued leaning in because I wanted to understand. The point that he was trying to hammer through was how complicated yet connected the entire world was. He was succeeding. At least on the complicated part.
"Do you want me to blow your mind a little further?"
Grandpa Ralph then paused, looked at me and gently said, "and you know what, all of this points us right back to Christ."
So much of this universe and its dimensions..so much of it incomprehensible for our human minds.
I smiled. He continued "You know, because His ways are not my ways."
My grandpa then went on to share about the 'New Jerusalem,' about Revelation and Jesus' return. He shared about heaven, about billions and billions of rooms, about what was really important in the new Kingdom. He shared about God's knowledge of the hairs on each of our heads, with a twinkle in his eye he reflected on the great expanse of God's imagination and His love for us. He made sure to make a cheesy joke in the middle of all of it, followed by a deep belly laugh.
He knew he had my attention.
And for one of the first times, I was joyful that he did.
Ephesians 3:16-19