We found a picture we hadn't seen in some time, hidden among other things in BJ's room. Some of you are wondering how we keep finding new things. When we first got home from the hospital, we didn't touch or disturb much of anything. As time passed, I began to investigate his room a bit. I could only go so far, because the memories would flood into my mind, and I'd have to stop. Every now and then, I return, and dig a little more. Soon there will be little left to discover, but for now, I treasure each foray into his room.

There are things we look for that we cannot or have not found yet. This often brings grief by itself. There are things we do not know what to do with, and would struggle to part with, if we did. I know in time we will figure these things out. I am just tired of being hijacked by emotions.

Anyway,...the picture. It is of my dad, Beej and me. Dad is sitting in a chair, Beej is in his lap, and I am standing beside them. Three generations of Higgins men...well two generations of men, Beej is only 4. I remember looking at that picture many times after my father died (in 1994). How he loved his one and only (at that time) grandson. How Beej loved him. They had so much fun together.

Nestled near the picture I found an autobiography that BJ wrote in 2003 (for school). I'll let him tell you about their relationship.

"Oh no! You have a fever! Now you're going to have to get some shots!" I said excitedly to my grandpa as we played doctor. He and my gramma were visiting from their home in Marion. I always had an abundance of enjoyment when my grandpa came over, and he was always met with excitement and anticipation of the fun-filled activities that were ahead. When he came over, we would play games like doctor, cars, and "Lincoln Logs." One thing that I especially remember and enjoyed is how we would switch places in the car, and I would "drive" him around for awhile. Anytime we were together, fun was to be had.

Unfortunately, one day even my amazing junior doctoral skills couldn't fix his "fever." When I was four, he was diagnosed with cancer of the pancreas, and was too far along for surgery. Without undergoing any kind of treatment, he went home after recovering from a coma and was just waiting to die. On August 26, 1994, around 8:00 P.M., while my sisters and I were at a friend of the family's house, he passed away.

Looking at that picture in the days after this caused me to wonder at times, what Beej's son would look like? What games would we play together when I was grandpa? When would I go home to be with Jesus? How would Beej handle that? Of course, I never wondered aloud, just some of the secret thoughts I'd keep to myself.

Now as I look at this photograph there are only memories. Lives well lived. Two men who served the Lord their God with all of their hearts, with all of their souls, with all of their minds, and with all of their strength. And they each truly loved their neighbors as themselves. One man who longs for their company, but strives to serve as they did.

A grandfather who committed his life to Christ, and spent it meeting the needs of children, to serve his Lord. A grandson who committed his life to Christ, and shared the gospel with all who would listen and gave up his life for the cause of Christ. Their son/father who remains behind, who committed his life to Christ, and seeks to assure the next generation of missionaries are allowed to serve.

Things did not turn out the way I expected. They often don't. As I look once more at that picture I am aware the Lord Jesus has filled my life with the grace to endure such journeys, and the peace to know that though I feel alone, He is there!

son/dad/servant