Tag: faith

A Love Letter to My Grandchildren

My Dear Grandchildren,

Thinking about how to tell you about the infinite power of love, I realize how important it is to share this letter with you.  To help you understand just how much love will shape your lives.

You’re still growing, discovering who you are and what you want from the world. As I reflect on everything I’ve learned and everything I’ve seen, I can’t help but realize that love has been the guiding force in all of it. If there’s one truth I want you to know, it’s this: love is the one thing that never runs out. It is truly infinite.

Love has no limits.  It’s a gift from God that never empties. “True love is infinite. It has no end, no limits, and no boundaries” (Unknown).  I want you to remember this when life gets tough or when you start to feel like there’s not enough love to go around. The love you give will always come back to you. It grows, just like a tiny mustard seed turns into a mighty tree. The more you pour out, the more you’ll have. And love? It keeps on giving.

Love has the power to change things.  To transform everything. It’s not just a feeling. It’s something far more powerful than that. Love is what changes hearts. It softens the hardest of feelings and brings people together.

I’ve seen this truth unfold many times in my life. When you approach someone with love, even if they’ve hurt you, that love has the power to melt away your bitterness, to open a door where there was once a wall. “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend” (Martin Luther King Jr.). That’s the kind of love I want for you. The kind that can heal, the kind that builds bridges instead of walls.

Love isn’t passive. It’s not something that just happens to you. It’s something you choose every day.  Love calls for action, for intention. It’s an active force. And when you lead with love, you’ll see the world differently. I’ve learned that love moves you in ways you can’t predict, but it will always be the guide that matters most.

You will never have all the answers. Just choose love. “To love is to will the good of another” (St. Thomas Aquinas). That’s the essence of it. When you love someone, you are choosing to want the best for them, to care for them, and to be there for them, even when it’s hard.

Sometimes, we make mistakes. We hurt each other. There are moments when we carry the burden of regret or hard feelings. But love, I’ve learned, is about letting go. It’s about forgiving. You can’t move forward while holding on to old wounds. Love is what frees you from that burden. It’s what gives you the strength to keep going, even when it feels impossible. “Love is an endless act of forgiveness” (Maya Angelou).  This resonates deeply with me, even when I forget its lesson. You see, when you forgive, you allow love to take root again, to grow and bring healing.

And the beautiful thing about love is that it never ends. Even when someone leaves us, their love remains. It stays with us. It lives on in the memories we carry and in the ways we continue to love others by their example. The love we give and receive stays with us, shaping us, and guiding us through the rest of our lives. “Love has no age, no limit; and no death” (John Galsworthy). When someone you love passes away, their love is still alive within you. It never dies. It’s a part of who you are forever.

I want you to know that love isn’t something you will always understand. It’s not something that always makes sense. Sometimes it feels irrational or confusing, but that’s what makes it so powerful.

Love comes from a place deep inside that logic can’t explain. It’s a mystery. “The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing” (Blaise Pascal).  That’s the beauty of love. It doesn’t need to be explained. You feel it. You know it. And that’s all there is.

Love is also not confined by time or space. It’s already free. “Love is an infinite ocean, where every drop is a reflection of the entire universe” (Unknown). Love stretches. It connects us all, no matter where we are, no matter what we’ve been through. It doesn’t have walls. Love is limitless.  It grows as we share it, and the more we live it.

I think about St. Paul’s words to the Corinthians when he wrote about love. It’s a love that’s patient and kind, that doesn’t boast or get angry easily. It’s love that seeks the good, that keeps no record of wrongs, that always protects, always trusts, always hopes. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7). That’s the love I want you to know. 

At its core, love is what makes life worth living. Without love, we would have nothing. Without love, we would be lost. “Love is the only reality, and it is not a mere sentiment. It is the ultimate truth that lies at the heart of creation” (Rabindranath Tagore). God’s creation.  It’s love that drives us to seek goodness for others, not just ourselves. It makes the world a better place, one loving act at a time. 

There’s one last thing I want you to know. Love never runs out. Its supply is unlimited. “There is no remedy for love but to love more” (Henry David Thoreau). That’s the key. The more you love, the more you’ll understand, the more you’ll see. Love opens new possibilities that you didn’t even know were there. It’s a wellspring that you can always draw upon, as long as you’re willing to give.

Love is the one thing that will always be with you. It doesn’t matter where life takes you or how far you go. It will be there. Love is constant, unchanging, but always expanding. And in that love, you’ll find the freedom to be who you’re meant to be, to live fully, by loving deeply.

The more you love, the freer you become. The more love you give, the more you’ll find in return.

As your grandpa, I love each of you with all my heart and soul. I want nothing more than for you to lead lives filled with love—guided by love, surrounded by love, and sharing love with everyone you meet.

A life full of love is a life full of joy and meaning.

Love always,

Grandpa Bob

Photo by Diane Anderson – That’s 7 of our 8 grandkids…and we have another on the way in May.  Diane is their great grandmother.  God is good.  

The Manger and the Memories: A Christmas Story

It happens to all of us this time of year. The days get shorter, the winds grow crisper.  Something stirs within us that doesn’t quite fit the mold of any other season. There’s joy, sure—joy enough to make us believe in miracles again. But alongside that joy, like the shadows cast by twinkling lights, there’s a touch of sorrow. Like an old friend who shows up every December, pulls up a chair, and says nothing at all.

Words that lie dormant eleven months out of the year come alive at Christmas time. Jingle Bells. Rudolph. Good tidings. Noel. The Manger. Words so beautiful and strange, yet they create beautiful poetry on our hearts.  Sugarplums dancing in dreams. Mulling spices on the stove. Decorations we see only in this season but remember more fondly with each passing year—twinkles of joy at their best, empty reminders at their worst. And somehow, merriment and brightness find their way in, even when the years haven’t always been kind.

If you listen closely, you can hear hymns calling us across the cold and lonely nights:

“O come, O come, Emmanuel”

“Silent Night”

“What Child is This?”

There’s a funny thing about Christmas—it’s a season of paradox. A time for rejoicing, and a time for remembering. For celebrating, and for mourning. All in the same breath.

Every year, the world gathers around a single story. A manger in Bethlehem, where our Savior came as a child. It’s a story that whispers hope into the cracks of our broken hearts.

“Fear not, O Zion, be not discouraged!” That’s what the prophet Zephaniah said. “The Lord, your God, is in your midst.” And somehow, two thousand years later, we do believe. We light candles and sing songs of joy—because we need to. Because joy matters.

It’s funny how much effort we put into this season. Trees trimmed. Ornaments hung. Villages built. Wishes made. And when the last batch of cookies or Cornish pasties come out of the oven, we sit at tables crowded with food, and laughter, and the people we love. Sometimes we even catch a glimpse of something eternal in it all—the way the lights reflect off the fancy silverware, or how a child’s eyes light up at the first sight of presents.

But there are empty chairs. They’re harder to discuss. Maybe it’s a father, a mother, a grandparent, or a sister. Maybe it’s a friend, a brother, an aunt or an uncle who have gone far too soon. We feel their absence even more at Christmas. We see them in the lights we hang, and the hot chocolates that we make. We hear them in old songs, the ones we used to sing.

And then there are the faces we miss in another way—our family who are still with us but just too far away. The ones across states, oceans, and time zones. We think of them when we pull out the old family recipes and photo albums.  We wish they could be here to see the kids open presents, to share in the laughter over the pies that we burned, or took out too soon.  But instead, we send texts and pictures, leave voicemails, and whisper a prayer hoping they know how much they’re loved, even from so far away.

Yet even in sorrow, there’s something beautiful. Because love never really leaves us. And maybe that’s the greatest promise of Christmas—the one hidden behind all the ornaments and stockings, and twinkling lights. That the Child who came to a manger promises us something more. He promises that the story isn’t over. That one day, we’ll all sit at a table that never empties, in a place where joy knows no end.

For now, we celebrate as best we can. We bake our pies and pour our cider. We listen for sleigh bells in the distance and leave room in our hearts for joy to enter—just like it always does.

And when the night gets quiet, and the fire burns low, we remember. We remember the ones we’ve loved, the ones we’ve lost, the ones too far away to join us, and the One who came to bring us home.

That’s Christmas. A little light, a little shadow. A little merry, a little sorrow. A season that changes the very words we speak and, if we let it, changes the very hearts we carry.

So if you’re out there tonight, sipping mulled cider by the window, just know this:

You’re not alone. The Savior is here. He’s in the manger. He’s in the laughter. And He’s in the quiet, too.

And maybe—just maybe—He’s singing over you, as one sings at a festival.

The Bible verse that inspired this post when I heard it in Church last Sunday:

Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!
        Sing joyfully, O Israel!
    Be glad and exult with all your heart,
        O daughter Jerusalem!
    The LORD has removed the judgment against you
        he has turned away your enemies;
    the King of Israel, the LORD, is in your midst,
        you have no further misfortune to fear.
    On that day, it shall be said to Jerusalem:
        Fear not, O Zion, be not discouraged!
    The LORD, your God, is in your midst,
        a mighty savior;
    he will rejoice over you with gladness,
        and renew you in his love,
    he will sing joyfully because of you,
        as one sings at festivals.

– Zep 3:14-18a

Navigating Fear…A Personal Guide to Freedom and Growth

Fear is like that well-meaning friend who occasionally oversteps boundaries. It’s a survival instinct, a leftover trait from our ancestors who needed it to avoid becoming someone else’s lunch. It can guide us toward wise choices and help us steer clear of danger.

Our imagination, on the other hand, is a bit of a storyteller, especially when it comes to tales that can hold us back. With all our experiences and secrets tucked away in our minds, our imagination can whip up some remarkably dreadful future scenarios. And our lizard brains? They thrive on responding to fear.

Fear is undoubtedly real. The fear of failure, loss, embarrassment, injury, loneliness, helplessness, and death can have profound impacts on our thoughts and actions. However, if we recognize, understand, and confront these fears head-on, it will be like flicking on the lights in a dark room – suddenly, the monsters lose their scariness.

By acknowledging that fear is a living part of us, we can take steps toward asserting our control over it. Fear shouldn’t be in the driver’s seat. 

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” – Psalm 23

We aren’t alone in this journey of conquering fear. We have a loving God, supportive family, and caring friends to help us face our fears. They can offer a broader perspective and lend a hand when we need it most.

Life is a rollercoaster of unknowns, and fear hates rollercoasters. Instead of fearing the unknown, befriend it. New ideas, experiences, and relationships? Embrace them as opportunities, be curious, and let the adventure unfold.

Life is rarely easy, and sometimes truly terrible things happen to us. But, fear should be the backseat driver, not our navigator.

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And, when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

–Paul Atreides in the novel Dune, by Frank Herbert

Photo: Why hot air balloons? Well, taking a ride in a hot air balloon would not be possible if we let fear make the decision. I’m happy to report the balloon ride was amazing!

I have one favor to ask:  If you find this information useful, please forward and recommend it to someone else.  Thanks!