A Life Finished Well

This weekend, I said goodbye to my grandfather.

Over and over again, my mind has returned to a line from the Bible—words written by the apostle Paul near the end of his life:

“I have fought the good fight,
I have finished the race,
I have kept the faith.”
(2 Timothy 4:7)

My grandfather fought the good fight.

One of the first things he said to my mom when we arrived to see him—while he was very near the end—was, “Tell your parents that I beat them to the end of the race.”

That was so like him. Even in his final days, he found room for humor. Levity, right up to the finish line.

Before I left, we explained to our oldest child that I’d be gone for a few days because my grandfather was very sick in the hospital. She reasoned—sweetly and confidently—that this made sense, because we needed to go help him feel better.

It was a gift from God that our whole family was able to be together and spend a few hours with my grandfather while he was still fully himself. I don’t take that lightly.

Afterward, our daughter kept asking for updates. And when my husband shared that my grandfather had passed away, she immediately lit up and said, “You mean he’s in heaven? With God?”

She’s been asking ever since when she’ll get to go to heaven.

I told her that I’m praying we’ll all be as blessed as my grandfather—that we’ll live long lives, be surrounded by people we love, and finish well. As a young adult, ninety-one years is hard to imagine. As a four-year-old, it’s nearly impossible.

My grandfather had a steady, lived-out faith. Not one made up of words alone, but one practiced daily—right to the very end.

He fought the good fight.
He finished the race.
He kept the faith.

I hope that one day, the same can be said of me.

Thank you, Granddad, for showing me what it looks like to run the race well—all the way to the end.