My grandpa's mug

By Tyler Tankersley

Sometimes when I am in a group of new people there is an icebreaker question asked of us all. Recently someone asked, "What is the holiest place on earth for you?" One person shared about a mountain climbing experience and another about a moment when they were standing on the beach. When my turn came, I easily answered, "A homestead in Bollinger County, Missouri." It was my grandparents' home. They lived in a small ranch house with a wooden pathway that led to a gazebo. My grandpa had built a screened-in pavilion for family gatherings and a "loafing shed" where he would write poems while being heated by a wooden burning stove. My grandparents' home was the holiest place on earth for me.

However, it's now just a place. I lost my Grandma Simmons in April and this week my Grandpa Simmons died. They are gone. And it is washing over me in waves that the holiness of their home was much more connected to the people who lived there than to any of the physical features.

Why is it that so many of us love our grandparents so much? For me, I think it was because my grandparents were some of the only people in my life who always approached me with unconditional grace. Yes, my parents loved me, but there was also something instructive in their love. My grandparents were quick to listen, slow to speak and always slow to anger (James 1:19). They allowed each of us to come into our own personhood in our own way in our own time. They taught us about the good things in life not through lectures, but through example.

My grandparents were always aware of my many shortcomings, yet they never mentioned these and they always seemed to believe what Julian of Norwich said: "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

I have two children (and a third due in January!). One of the lessons I most want to take away from the lives of my Grandma and Grandpa Simmons is that I do not have to wait until I am a grandparent to approach my children with a reckless, risky grace. I obviously want to be the kind of father who teaches my children how to live a good life, but more than that I want them to grow up knowing what I knew from my grandparents: They are loved. I think if you look at the ministry and life of Jesus Christ, he had aspects of both judgment and grace in his life, yet the scales were always tipped on the side of love.

As you look back on your life, my prayer is that you have people in your life who have loved you with unconditional grace. If you have had that wonderful experience, I pray that you live your life in such a manner as to serve as an extension of that grace to others.

As I sit here writing this column, I am drinking black coffee from one of my Grandpa Simmons' favorite mugs. I wish I was sitting with him talking about the bluebirds. Instead, it's now my job to talk about the bluebirds and to share cups of grace with those around me. There is something holy in that.