Better Days are Ahead

My maternal grandfather, Gene Gorman, died on July 7, 2013, in Evansville, Indiana. I was extremely close to him. I miss him so much.

His health had started to decline rapidly in May, and he was hospitalized in early June. My mom went out to Indiana and ended up being there for more than a month. On a Wednesday in mid-June, she called me at work with the news he had cancer. At 91. Less than two hours after that phone call, I was on a plane from Omaha to Louisville. I was in Evansville Thursday morning through Sunday afternoon. On the Friday of my visit, he began chemotherapy. As radiation coursed through his veins, my baby boy kicked in my belly. The passage of time, the grand hand-off from generation to generation, washed over me like an awful, overpowering wave.

Catching that plane to Evansville–going with my gut to go as soon as I could–was a wise decision. Those days in Evansville were precious. They were the last days and hours he would be somewhat himself. He could smile and joke. He ordered peaches and tomatoes from the extensive room service menu. I remember watching him read a brochure about his type of cancer the night before the chemo started. I couldn’t kiss him because of the chemo. We had to wear gloves. We kept calling them ‘love gloves.’ Saturday was a good day, but on Sunday, he was weak. It caught up with him.

When I was getting ready to leave on Sunday, everyone in the room knew it was probably the last time I’d ever be with him. I tried to keep it light and keep it together. I tried so hard. I asked if he had anything he wanted me to tell Tim. He said to tell him to take care of me. Lord, have mercy. As soon as I crossed the threshold out of his room after saying “I love you” one last time, I fell apart. The kind of crying where you just shake.

After I went to Omaha, he went to Rehab. We were all wishful thinking that a 91-year-old man could go to Rehab, do regular chemo and be as good as new. It would not be. He went to the ER. He went back to the hospital. Then he went to hospice. Finally, he went to heaven.

Before I even boarded that plane or heard the cancer diagnosis, I started collecting my thoughts. The Spirit moved me to begin putting words down. I fired up the laptop and let my fingers fly. I let the tears fall. I wanted to vent, to let all my love drip out on paper. In the back of my mind, maybe I realized I was composing a eulogy. But I told myself, at first, that the drafts were just love letters. That if and when he bounced back, I would share my words with him.

This is what I wrote and this is what I read at American East Baptist Church on Thursday, July 11, 2013. It was my great honor to share it then, and it is my great delight to share it again here.

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Gene Gorman has always been “Papa Gene” to me. When I was young, my understanding of my grandfather was based on simple, but important, observations. After growing up during the Depression in the mountains of east Tennessee, Papa Gene was the man who worked hard to make sure my Mom had the best life possible, wanting for nothing. He was the man who served up tasty hamburgers, fries and Cokes–and people loved him for it. He had a knack for dispensing practical wisdom with a lighthearted touch. “Women are to be loved–not understood.” “Nobody gets rich working 40 hours a week.” “Plan Ahead, It Wasn’t Raining When Noah Built the Ark.” He had a tendency to spoil people named Sarah. This is what I knew.

As I grew, so did my respect for him. My understanding of Papa Gene got clearer and richer, as I started closely paying attention to how he lived and discovering what a treasure he was.

First, I saw how Gene Gorman loved his wife in and through an ongoing health struggle. Year after year, issue upon issue, his love showed up, sacrificed and served. Love in action, fueled by a steady faith in Christ. It wasn’t always pretty or easy, but I saw a person who walked the Christian walk with unwavering faithfulness. Just as he walked with strength and dignity into World War 2 concentration camps, among the first to enter and free prisoners. Just as he walked the walk, waking up at 3 a.m. nearly every morning for decades–to support his family and serve favorite customers and complete strangers. In later years, his walk was lived out just sitting on a lawn chair in his driveway, while offering a listening ear or kind, encouraging word to whoever might pass by. Whether it was a restaurant counter, a driveway or a hospital bed, Gene Gorman transformed wherever he was into a mission field. He transformed everyday interactions into opportunities to share wisdom, humor and a positive outlook that came from trusting the One who holds the future. This is how he could say to me, just weeks ago–facing aggressive cancer at 91–“Better days are ahead.”

Gene Gorman fascinated me because you don’t meet or experience people like him very often. A person, to his core, more concerned with others than himself. It was not about him–and how refreshing and inspiring that humility was to me and perhaps many of you. Papa Gene’s way of living and loving, for me, was a beautiful picture of Jesus and how He did business.

From Matthew, Chapter 20: “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 27 and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— 28 just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Gene Gorman was a great man because he was a lifelong servant and He directed any and all glory to God. Through his actions, commitments and daily time with the Lord. Through his finances and tithing to his church. Through his relationships and how he treated you and me. He pointed to Jesus–not in a flashy way, but in a deep, real way. With a pipe in his hand. With a wise, timely word. The servant of Spring Street. I know Gene’s legacy will live on, because I saw how his daughter and son were there for him when he was finishing his race. When it comes to loving others through service, we learned from the best.

1 Thessalonians 4:13 & 14 says: “13 Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. 14 For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

Today is a sad day because Gene Gorman was one of this world’s finest men, and because with great love, comes a great sense of loss. But… my prayer is that we would not grieve today as those who have no hope. Because we share the same hope that Gene Gorman held in his heart, the same hope that he lived out and has now carried into the Lord Jesus Christ’s glorious, eternal presence. Our hope is anchored in this: Jesus Christ is the Savior of this world and our lives. He conquered the death we deserve because of our sin, He paid for the poverty of our souls out of the richness of His grace, so that you and I could know Him and be with Him forever.

If you’re like me, this truth is always planted deep down in your heart, but it’s times like this–when you have to own it and trust it with everything you’ve got–that the Good News is especially precious. The Gospel rushes to the surface of life–its relevance and power undeniable. It pounds in your heart. Today, we hold onto the promises of Jesus. We cling to our blessed assurance.

And because of that, because the Savior of the world was a friend of Gene Gorman’s, today is a good day. Papa Gene was right–better days are ahead for him. I can’t imagine anyone being received into heaven with a warmer welcome than Gene Gorman. As our friend, Wanda Hooper would say, his name is written in the Lord’s Book of Life. He knew his Father’s Word and his Master’s voice. Surely, he has heard those words, “Well done, good and faithful servant!”

I ask the Lord to help our gratitude overcome our grief. Because today, we have a lot to be thankful for. Thank you, God, for the gift of Gene Gorman–and for sharing him with us on this earth. Thank you, God, for the opportunity to live the rest of our days in service to others, in humility and love. Someday we will see Gene Gorman again, along with the face of our Heavenly Father. Truly, better days are ahead.