My grandfather is dying. Depressing way to begin a post, I know, but that's all that keeps running through my mind. At the Hospice center, where I volunteer, I asked one of the employees what the requirements to be put on Hospice included "Well," she started, "a patient has to be diagnosed of a terminal illness--one that a doctor is willing to sign off as cutting the life expectancy to the next six months." She then went on to explain that though that is the case most of the time, they have had patients live years, even on Hospice. The doctor just resigns at the end of the six month period, claiming that from his or her best medical opinion, the patient's disease will be fatal within the next six months. Well, if that doesn't just warm your heart, I don't know what will. (a little sarcasm doesn't hurt every now and then, right?)
As soon as I left the center, I visited my grandfather in the nursing home. He was watching cartoons when I walked in, but as soon as he saw me, he gestured to the one and only chair in the room. He smiled, and told me that he liked cartoons, and I couldn't help but smile back. My dad looks like him. Same haircut, same word choice, same mannerisms, same way their eyebrows dip over their eyes when they're in deep concentration...
We continued to talk about little things, like how my sister texts (literally) from the time she wakes up until she goes to sleep, and what a text even is, and how he used to paint, and the different churches we've gone to. Then, he talked about a chaplain who came to talk to him. A chaplain from the Hospice center. I beat around the question for a little bit, but I knew I was going to ask, eventually. "What did he say?" He gave me his card, to call if something goes wrong. "Is he going to come back?" Yeah, he said he would come back once a week. "For how long?" I don't know.
I finally asked. Oh, how it hurt to voice the question, but I asked. "Pa? Are you on Hospice?" Yeah. I'm usually all right with awkward silences. In fact, I often accidentally bring them on myself, but this one time in my life, the silence that followed his answer pressed down on my shoulders like bags of bricks.
So, I did what any not-quite-normal girl who is not sure where to turn the conversation from there would do. I asked another question.
"Pa, if you could give me one piece of advice, about anything at all, what would it be?"
He pondered for a little bit, letting his eyebrows crease over his eyes and wrinkling his forehead. Finally, he looked at me, and placed his hand on his chest. "Always follow your heart." When he first said that, I won't lie--I was a bit disappointed. I mean, Disney used that line in practically every one of his movies! Then, however, my grandfather added, "If it feels right, and you don't have a single question or doubt, then go for it. But, if you question it, or doubt it, don't."
I thought about that the whole drive home. I began mulling over the decisions I've made with a doubt attached to one end of it, and how different my life would be had I chosen not to act. I thought about how deceiving the heart can be, and how sometimes we have to make half-hearted decisions...
But then I thought about all of the times that I didn't have a doubt. The times when something truly did feel right. The times when I wasn't confusing my mind with my heart. And then it kind of hit me: we've got to keep our heads and our hearts separate. I mean, when it all comes right down to it, where our treasures are, our hearts will be also (Matthew 6:21). But we have to constantly guard our hearts (Proverbs 4:23), lest we follow and treasure things that stand no ground compared to the Lord.
I'm a pretty logical thinker (at least, I like to think I am), and so I definitely see the value in looking at a problem objectively, but when you apply your heart to a matter, and seriously dive into an issue with all that you've got, then the outcome has to be better than had you looked only from the logical perspective.
I think I hit a tangent... Regardless, I hope that maybe there was some sort of teensy little bit of wisdom somewhere in this post. Maybe Disney had it right.
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