Remembering Grandpa

Frank Brown Tinsley

August 7, 1924- January 23, 2009

My grandfather, Frank Tinsley, passed away at the age of 84 on Friday, January 23, after a lengthy battle with Alzheimer's disease. We celebrated his life yesterday, and the love he shared with my grandma for 62 years. I am comforted by the knowledge that he is walking with Jesus today, pain-free, and singing "I'll Fly Away" (his favorite song). In his younger years he was a big guy who was never afraid to show his emotions... definitely a little sentimental at times. Even in his last week of life, he was still telling everyone "I love you." He loved to brag about his kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, often met with the rolling of eyes I am certain. Like any of us, he had his faults. However, he remained committed to those things that matter most in life: his faith, his family, and his friends.

I am greatly saddened that I will never again hear him singing or playing his guitar. I will never get another phone call from him on my birthday describing how on the day of my birth he jumped from his bed at 5:36 am and shouted, "She's here!" Minutes later my father would call and report that I had, indeed, been born at exactly that time. My heart is also made heavy by the fact that I can no longer question him about the Great Depression, World War II, and a wealth of historical and familial knowledge and experiences. I must cling to what I have of him, and hug the rest of my family a little tighter... a little longer. This event has made it even clearer to me what the Bible says about coming to Jesus "with faith like a child." My own child, Gracie, seemed to understand better than any of us that Papa Frank was skipping around and happy in heaven with the biggest Papa of them all, God. He's waited a long time for this moment, and I know he will enjoy every minute of eternity... he deserves it.

We love you, Grandpa.

Battling Sickness and the Sillies

Gracie and I on our "Girls Night" to dinner
and "Dancing with the Stars"

Sick little Grant with his non-talking dog

The kiddos (and the rest of us) have been battling all sorts of sicknesses over the past two weeks. Gracie and I prayed tonight that God would heal our little family and keep us all healthy for a while. Grant is back on breathing treatments and antibiotics, but plows along through it all. The albuterol made him CRAZY, so the doctor switched him to another form of it that is MUCH better. I coudn't help but giggle as he busted a move wearing only a diaper to "Hail to the Chief" as Barack Obama was sworn in as President. I'll always remember innauguration day as the day when Grant was hyped up on steroids. We've also had the oh-so-fun stomach bugs and fevers to top it all off. I have high hopes for the month of February after all that January has brought us.

Along the lines of sickness...
Grant, who has had a runny nose since October, accidentally poked himself in the eye last night while I was putting him to bed. He looked up at me with his watery eye and said, "Mommy, my eye has a runny nose!"

Lastly, both of my children have made some rather large requests over the past few weeks. Grant recently asked me if Truman, our black lab, can talk. When I told him that "No, real dogs do not in fact speak," he responded with, "Well, then we need to go to the store and get him a new mouth." Problem solved.

Gracie, upon hearing that one of her best friends is going to be a big sister for the second time, is now lobbying God to either place a baby in my tummy or prod us toward adoption. The last time she talked to God about a new baby, I got pregnant with Grant!