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The McCurdy family with Peter's grandparents right before Christmas 2016.
Christmas Loss
On New Year's Day, I received a phone call from my father
about the passing of my grandfather whom we affectionately called Papa. He was in his fourth bout of pneumonia
already this winter and was 96 years old.
I was aware that this might happen but after considering things, we
decided to return to Costa Rica as scheduled.
We have a few things in our schedule that we had to be back in Costa
Rica. It is hard not being in the states
for this event but God is faithful. We
have been sick and are recovering while prepping for some important things next
week.
Rene McCurdy, my Papa, was born Feb. 3, 1920, in France to my
great-grandfather, Joseph McCurdy and my French great-grandmother, Yoland de
Boisferon McCurdy. He married my grandmother, Jesse Tomlin McCurdy in Sept. 3,
1949. Giving us a heritage of Scottish, Irish, French, and American Indian
(Cherokee). They went on to have 7
children, Yolande, Anne Mare, Paul (my dad), Suzanne, Guy, Brigitte, John, and
Sarah, 21 grandchildren, and 34 great grandchildren.
There will be an obituary to fill-in the rest of the details
about the family so the following is going to be my memories of Papa and my
effort to honor him. (click here to view the obituary)
One of my favorite memories of my grandparents is centered around
thanksgiving. It was basically a family
reunion every year. The extended family
would all descend upon their house in Hummelstown PA and a lot of years my
great uncle would also come with his family as well. As a kid, what I liked best was playing with
my cousins and running around their big house, playing monopoly, going to the
movies, and of course eating an awesome meal.
One year, my cousin Jason and I got into a little tussle and
he pushed me down the stairs as I was trying to get away from him and my knee
went through the wall at the landing of the stairs. My grandfather lost his temper with us and
said some really mean things, however, Jason and I were also required to pay
for the damages we made. It was a tough lesson, but not only did I learn
responsibility but also I learned forgiveness.
The next summer, my grandparents came to Ridgway to take me
to Hummelstown to spend a week with them.
I saved up the money to pay off my debt and really didn’t want to
go. I was still hurt by his words and
scared of his anger. Before we left, I
made a choice to forgive him and make the best of the trip. It was probably my favorite summer with him. He had a trip to a steam engine train ride, a
garden of gnomes, and time to play with my cousins who live near there. He let me go to the corner store and buy ice
cream and root beer for floats in the evening.
He never mentioned the hole in the wall that trip. I think that is the starting point for our
relationship to change.
As I grew into an adult, my grandfather attended my high
school graduation, and baby dedication of our second child, Nathaniel. He witnessed me in my calling as a pastor and
made a friend with my father-in-law.
This seemed to seal the relationship I had with him. I remember visiting him once and he
complemented me with a slight dig, which was his nature, by saying, “Peter, I
am proud of you and your profession as a Pastor, too bad you aren’t
Catholic.” Another visit, he continued
this banter by giving me a book, “The Idiot’s Guide to Catholicism.” I refused to let those digs offend me or
bother me and played along. Sometimes, I
would return the jab with one of my own and he would get a slight curl around
the lips and pretend he didn’t hear me.
This Christmas, I lost my grandfather on New Year’s
Day. I know that he was proud of me even
if I am not a Catholic. I have cried
quite a few times over this loss and miss him.
However, right before Christmas we got to visit him and I left with the
sense that this was goodbye. He seemed
to sense it too. Scripture tells us to
honor our parents and I think that includes our grandparents. Rene was a man with many different sides and
sharp corners but he was loved. I won’t
make it back for the funeral but I can still picture him standing in the door
saying goodbye to Sarah and me in December.
Both of us just pausing saying nothing but not really wanting it to be
our final goodbye and yet both knowing it was.
This will not be my last personal loss on the mission field,
I am sure. The reality of distance,
schedules, time, and money for the ability to travel back are real and at times
heartbreaking. However, I grieve because
I loved. I loved because I forgave. The loss hurts and over time it will
heal. I am confidant my grandfather is
in heaven and I look forward to seeing him there. The lesson in this so far for me is to remember
to forgive and not let hurts build in me and break relationships. People are more important than my pride. Thank you for your prayers for our family and
love.