April is a heavy month in Alabama. It is a time to reflect—a time to remember. The scars of April 2011 are embedded deeply in our land and in our hearts. This April there have been new storms to encounter. The loss of homes and lives has once again visited our doorstep. My mind reels to make sense of the pain that has come so very close to my heart. But it is not just Alabama.
You see, grief comes to us all. We have all felt the heavy weight of grief on our chest and the way tears well up from our throat to burn down our cheeks. We have all encountered loss. This April claimed the lives of two men in my own life. Two men that have taught me lessons that I will not soon forget. Ernest Metcalf (better known as “Pepaw” to me) was born in 1933, and John Servati was born in 1993—both died in April 2014.
I have sat among friends and family to grieve the loss of these two men, and I cannot help but think about what their lives meant to me. I realized I have learned so much from the way they lived and the way they died.
My husband summed up so well the way “Pepaw” lived his life when he shared during the funeral: “Pepaw saw people as valuable. No one was just a throw away in this world. All are created by God for a purpose and loved by Jesus and he wanted everyone he met to know that. He never got too old to learn. He never had too many friends to make a new one. He never stopped loving his wife and kids—never stopped hugging his grand kids and great grand kids. He never grew tired of talking about Jesus or quoting scripture, and I believe God used him in every breath he had.”
Even as the cancer slowly claimed Pepaw’s body, his spirit was not limited to his bed during those last weeks. He preached to anyone who walked in the room and never stopped sharing his wisdom with us. To my husband, Wes, Pepaw shared what he called the “prescription to this broken world”. He simply said, “Give thanks in all things, love everyone you meet, and forgive as you have been forgiven.”
Those words are seared into my heart. I witnessed what a life of 80 years can mean when you live according to those simple principles. I hope if I live 80 years that I will be a lot like Pepaw.
April has also taught me what a short life—lived well—can mean. John Servati lived to the age of 21, yet the impact of his life has astounded me. While I only had a short time to know and work with John, I was able to experience his “larger than life” personality, his tenacious competitiveness, and his commitment to his friends and teammates. As I sat once again among friends and family during his memorial service, I learned even more about the way he lived his life in genuine service. He didn’t serve others to gain recognition or seeking anything in return, but he gave all he had to encourage, love and help those around him. It stands out to me that John didn’t have to wait until he was 80 to live his life this way. His genuine service to others was a part of his life and death.
Both these men had a powerful presence both physically and relationally. Big, strong hands that give a warm handshake have a way sticking in your memory. It is not just their handshake or the way they made every person they encountered feel valued that I will remember most. It is the principles by which they lived and died that I will carry with me through this world…until I see them again.
Give thanks in all things.
Love everyone you meet.
Forgive as you have been forgiven.
Genuinely serve others.
