I can guarantee you, that unless you have been extremely close to me over the past decade, this blog will NOT be what you think it will be about.
Right now, I just got out of the shower, and was reflecting back on one particular point in my life, and just felt the need to share this story with you.
Throughout my life, I have had very few people whom I would call mentors. But if I had to start mentioning people to be on that list, my Uncle Tom would be near the top.
In all honesty, he wasn't exactly my uncle. He basically became an interim uncle. While my mom attended nursing school, she became very close friends with one of her classmates, named Teresa. So much so, that a lot of her off time began to be spent over there. I was a baby the first time I was over at their house, and in all honesty, I don't remember a period in my life that did not have Teresa and her family in it.
When my mom was working or at school, Teresa's sister would babysit. During holidays, we were always assured that we would be included in festivities. As such, my mom and I were basically "adopted" into their family. As the family grew, their children's spouses, and, then their own children just learned we were part of the family, and that it was a long story.
Around the time I was 3, Teresa was dating Tom, after having been divorced from her first husband, and soon after, married him. Therefore, it turned into Aunt Teresa and Uncle Tom.
Tom wasn't much to admire in earthly, shallow standards. He had no use of his right hand as a result of a childhood illness that went untreated, he was thin, short and scruffy. But he was one of the smartest guys I knew.
He was an avid reader, in fact, he had a huge library of books that I would just look at and be awestruck. And talking with him, you had no doubt in your mind that he had read through every single one of them.
But the thing that would strike you most was about him was an unparalleled faith in God. He was the calmest, most collected person I knew, and you could tell that he walked out exactly what God wanted him to walk out. I never saw him angry. I saw him engage in arguments, but I always remember the other person coming to their boiling point while he just sat there as calmly as he could.
I remember him never being in-your-face about his faith. The only way I remember him being outward about it was praying blessings over food during holidays. But he didn't have to be. You could see it without him even trying.
However, I don't remember him so much for the way he lived but the way he died.
In September of 2003, my band was playing a decent-sized concert. My mom was going to show up, and made mention that Aunt Teresa and Uncle Tom would show up for support to. However, when Mom got there, she showed up alone, and during sound check, she came and told me that Uncle Tom had suffered a heartattack and was in the hospital.
I was shocked, but at the same time, I was expecting things to go well. He got help before it was too late, and hardly anyone dies from a heartattack if they get them to the hospital in time.
But then, a couple days later, he progressed further and further downhill. A faulty stint and a punctured artery later, and it was apparent he was not going to make it. I remember one night bailing on band practice and going to the hospital. I spent a full day there, just waiting, hoping and praying.
I remember coming home one day, already in a sore mood, and my mom had just gotten off the phone, and told me to sit down. I knew what was coming, and yet, knowing couldn't prepare me for it.
Through my tears, I remember her telling me his last words, with Teresa at his side.
Tom: I'm ready to go home.
Teresa: You can't go home, you need to stay here.
Tom: No, I'm ready to go see Jesus.
And that was it.
The visitation service was hard. It was a pretty somber mood around an otherwise energetic group of people. Teresa, usually so upbeat and fun to be around, was just shellshocked. We all were.
I didn't go to the funeral, as I had classes. In all honesty, I didn't really want to. I take those things too hard anyway. No matter what though, I took his death pretty hard. It's hard to see someone who has done so much for you die, and having not said how appreciative you are of what that person has done makes it harder.
It has only been a few years that I have really come to grips with his death, and even more recently that I could really take in the lesson of his death, one that I really should've learned very quickly.
Don't you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win! All athletes are disciplined to their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize. So I run with purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing.
1Cor 9:24-26 (NLT)
You see, so often I see people, Christians even, including myself, living in the here and now way too much. So much so that whatever they want right now, they must have right now, and whatever they want or need tomorrow is irrelevant, because they have today. And while today is important, the fact is that it doesn't negate the fact that we have a future that we need to look after.
A lot of people will read that and start thinking IRA's and Social Security benefits and AARP cards, but it goes much more deeper than that. Paul knew it, and so did Uncle Tom.
We work so hard and pour ourselves into things for an earthly gain that we can't take with us to the grave. Even the trinkets that our family will put into our caskets doesn't mean we'll be able to enjoy those when we are in the ground. We can't even enjoy them when we are lying there for our viewings. Those are merely for aesthetic purposes, and it's the same way while we're alive.
We even do Christ the same way. We're able to serve him today, but tomorrow? If we feel like it. If we don't have something better to do. If something better doesn't come along. I know I have at least.
But Tom had another idea. It might sound crazy, but he lived his life thinking that God wanted him to work toward the future, and therefore spent his present preparing for that future. He wasn't thinking 10, 20, or even 30 years from that moment. He was thinking about September 13, 2003, when he would be lying on his back, taking his last breath. He reached his finish line, and all he could think about was seeing Jesus.
Talking with people at his visitation, you could tell that his steps were taken so that he would be able to do so on that day. And today, just out of nowhere, I was reminded of that lesson, probably the best lesson he could've ever taught me. That, if anything, I want to be like Uncle Tom, and not just live and die, but live for Christ, and die ready to see Christ.
