“And not a tear is wasted
In time, you’ll understand
I’m painting beauty with the ashes
Your life is in my hands”
“Just Be Held” — Casting Crowns

Casting Crowns released this emotional ballad in 2014 as part of the group’s “Thrive” album. The song uses a moving melody to express the desire of God for His followers to let go and trust Him in difficult times.

This past week has certainly been a time of receiving comfort from a host of sources, culminating in the celebration of life for my grandfather, William McManus.

I wish I could recall why or when he and my grandmother’s names were shortened to “Mac” from McManus, but I don’t have that memory.

For more than 40 years, they’ve simply been Grandpa and Grandma Mac to me.

I am blessed to have memories of two of my great-grandparents and one of my great-great-grandparents.

That sort of passing of family values was instilled early in my life, with the elders of the family passing on what they had learned.

Having four grandparents at my wedding in my mid-30s was a blessing. I’ve since lost both of my father’s parents, but Grandpa Mac continued on, even as his health took the feet out from under the once-vibrant man who seemed to always be in constant motion.

That is, unless his family was involved. That seemed to be the one way to get him to settle down, whether it was hosting a family gathering (and playing Santa!) or putting on miles to support his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

Many have excellent memories of their parents being at sports, music, and other events in which they were involved while growing up. I had the blessing of growing up near family, so I often had all four grandparents, along with aunts and uncles and cousins, who showed up at events.

And that didn’t end when I left the area and moved to Minneapolis for college. I have great memories of Grandpa and Grandma Mac coming to multiple concerts when I was in college and also attending my college graduation.

Family Christmases and Thanksgivings and so many holidays were made special because of Grandpa’s ability to spin a story and his enthusiasm for getting a card game going, even if he sat for a bit at the kids’ table to play in or mentor their game of Whist, because numbers weren’t even at the adult table.

Oh, and the sing-a-longs.

Grandpa was very proud of his Irish heritage, and along with that, he loved music.

He sang in the church’s choir, but more than anything, he loved to encourage his family in musical endeavors.

The influence of multiple family sing-a-longs encouraged me to sing “Oh, Danny Boy” as a solo and “My Wild Irish Rose” as a duet in my senior year for contests, although I didn’t sing any of the “extra” verses that Grandpa would teach if you happened to sit next to him during a sing-a-long.

Finally, he encouraged his children and his grandchildren to achieve…but not in a way that was high-pressured or toward worldly ideas of what achievement would look like.

I remember a conversation had at the breakfast table when a blizzard had kept me in town and he and Grandma were gracious enough to allow me to stay at their home through the blizzard.

As Grandma prepared oatmeal, Grandpa asked me about the work I was doing as a mental health case manager at the time.

I noted that I’d gone to college at a prestigious business school and felt, at times, that perhaps I’d wasted money doing that when I had worked in ministry and social work since college.

He took that in, and then responded that what field my work was didn’t really matter.

He encouraged me to examine what it was in the work I did that I found rewarding, and I related that helping people manage their mental illness in a way that allowed them to live more independently really enthused me.

“Helping others,” he nodded. “You’ll always be on the right track if you’re helping someone get better.”

After more than nine decades of doing exactly that, Grandpa Mac is now enjoying the rewards of a life of service and care for others.

Rest in peace, Grandpa Mac.