When my grandad died at the rich age of 93, I didn’t appreciate how much I’d think about his life. It’s unsurprising that I miss him; he and my grandma pursued me from a young age—showing up at my events and reaching out to me. Even in high school, I would stay weekends with them.

But what surprises me is the repeated encouragement I feel when I think on God’s work through Grandad’s life. It leaves me asking good questions of my own life.

Will the family of God miss us?

One of my favorite salvation stories is Grandad’s. He was an accomplished businessman who went to church every Sunday and still never knew Christ. In Grandad’s fifties, while visiting his missionary son in the jungle in Panama, the Lord saved him as he watched a Jesus of Nazareth movie. When it showed Jesus being nailed to the cross, it finally dawned on Grandad that it was the weight of his own, personal sin that was on Christ. Grandad became aware of the vast love of God, and he left the movie bawling like a baby.

Grandad’s funeral service was overflowing with people. He loved his church and spent year after year teaching Sunday school, attending funerals, supporting church leadership, counseling people, and more. The stories of his ordinary faithfulness are humbling. Even a dear neighbor of Grandad’s stopped me in the hall with tears in her eyes: “Paige, he was like a father to me.” Recently as Grandad was out on his daily walk, he hollered at this neighbor: “You have to go read this passage in Acts. I just read it; it’s amazing!”

After Grandad’s funeral, when the church grew dark and quiet, I saw the pastor cleaning up, and my heart felt loss for him as he told me how much they’re going to miss Grandad. They will feel Grandad’s absence, and what a truly bittersweet gift to the body of Christ.

Would others be surprised to hear of past accomplishments?

Of course, anybody who lives to 93 will live what feels like several lifetimes. I loved hearing about Grandad’s accomplishments because they were news to me. Who was this Eagle Scout, skilled at the trumpet, who started and sold an insurance business and was principal of his high school at age 17? He certainly never shared these claims to fame with me, and that made me miss him all the more.

What encouragement to live a life of pursuing others with listening ears. I’m quick to tell you what I know. Grandad must have heard me wax foolishly about matters he quietly knew far more about. Instead, Grandad used his experience to deepen dialogue and ask better questions. He was a great conversationalist, which explains why nobody was a stranger to him. It also highlights why others would specifically seek Grandad for advice.

Was the journey marked by joy?

No one—at least nobody I’ve ever met—is happy all the time. I hope we can all concede that would be quite strange and borderline annoying. Quite different from being happy all the time is unchanging joy in Jesus. It’s not denial or I got what I want, so I’m in a good mood or I’m very pleased with how this is going. Joy is contentment plus. It is an expectancy of God’s goodness, even if not yet realized—dare I say especially when not yet realized. That was something Christ put deeply in Grandad, and I believe this is possible for all of us who trust in Christ by the fruit of God’s Spirit in us.

Now, Grandad was no stranger to sorrow. You can’t live a long life and not have griefs. Among many other losses, Grandad tragically lost a young adult son. And when my own mother got sick and could no longer walk, Grandad (who is my mother’s in-law), at the fine age of 90, decided he would start grocery shopping for my parents.

The night before Grandad died, we visited him in the hospital. He removed his oxygen mask, so he could chat more despite our encouragement to the contrary. He wanted to know what we did that day.

“We were outside—it was beautiful!” I said.

“And tomorrow is supposed to be too,” he chimed.