The Wanderer

When I was a kid, every week after church, we went to my grandparents' farm for Sunday dinner. Those Sunday get-togethers are some of my favorite memories. It was a houseful! My grandma cooked for us, my aunts, uncles and cousins. It was a feast fit for royalty.

After we ate, when the weather was nice, we played outside. It didn't matter what the season, we didn't care. Sunday with the cousins was fun. My grandparents had a huge space for us to run and play. The driveway circled past the house, then towards the pumphouse, around to a big open yard (which looked out to the barn and the pasture), and it finally came back towards the road and past the garage, which sat across from the house. Sometimes the adults would join in our fun and we would play softball in the yard. It didn't matter how old (or young) you were, everyone played. I remember a lot of fun and laughter during those games. It was truly a family affair.

I should have prefaced that story by telling you that our grandparents never joined in the fun. They would watch, but didn't play. Grandma would stand or sit on the front step and Grandpa wandered.

He wandered. That might be an understatement. Grandpa rarely sat. He was always out doing something - checking cows, working on a tractor, fixing a fence. He even walked his own beans, for heaven's sake! (For those that didn't grow up on the farm or in the Midwest, that means he pulled the weeds growing in the field by hand.)

But maybe his favorite path was to the garage. Or should I say behind the garage?

You see, behind the garage was his favorite place to smoke a cigarette. It was his secret. And believe me... I use the word SECRET loosely in this situation. We all knew. It was hard NOT to know. The swing set sat parallel to the garage. The garden was back there. We played back there all the time! Funny thing is, I don't ever remember him telling any of us kids to not tell Grandma. Not once did he ever give us a glance or a look that would hint that he thought he might be in trouble. He just stood out of sight and enjoyed his moment of rebellion.

I'm pretty sure even Grandma knew that's where he disappeared to so "discreetly" in the middle of the day, but she never said a word. He hid it for her. She's the one that wanted him to quit, so he did. I'm not sure for how long or at what point the strolls behind the garage started, but apparently, it didn't matter to her. She let him have his moment and he hid it so she didn't have to deal with it.

Back then, I always thought it was kind of silly. Everyone knew, so why didn't he just step outside and have a cigarette? It's not like he was smoking in the house or flaunting it in her face. I didn't understand the big "secret." But as I look at it now, I think it's pretty sweet. They both compromised. They both got their way, and yet, they both LET the other "win."

My mind is swirling right now. There are so many ways this story could go. But what weighs heaviest on my heart is LOVE. Our world could use a big dose of that kind of love. The kind of love that compromises. The kind of love that knows each other's secrets, yet chooses to love anyway. The kind of love that smiles and reaches for your hand even after you've made a stroll to the garage or even after you've watched someone come from behind the garage.

We have all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. None of us are perfect. Jesus didn't come to save the flawless, He came to save the sinner. He walked among us to show us by example how the love of God could change our lives, change our hearts. If He turned His back on anyone that made a mistake, I wouldn't be here. I'm assuming neither would some of you. The beauty of God's love is grace and mercy - forgiveness simply because He loves us. A motto my grandparents lived by.

1 Cor. 13: 1-7 ESV

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.