Legacies of Heaven and Hell

I am descended from generations of addicts and sinners. My legendary grandfather floats like a spectre in my mind. He was not a fun kind of drunk. He was naturally mean, and when he drank he was worse. I don't ever remember him on the sauce, but I do remember how heartless he could be. When, as a child, I would rush to see him, he would contort my thumb until he had me begging in the dirt. He liked to twist my nose til I was squealing. He was cruel. One time, he had a tame raccoon in a pen by the barn. I was petting it and he told me I could name it and it would be mine when I came to their house. A few weeks later we came for a visit. I rounded the barn and saw the empty pen. When I asked him about the raccoon, he said that he had eaten it. He taught the grandkids little dirty songs, just for fun. We loved him to pieces. Children tend to do that, even for awful old men. When MawMaw had their third child, he never worked another day, although they eventually added five more offspring. His children didn't have food or shoes, but somehow he always had a nice, new suit and a shiny car with which to do his philandering. 

One day, I was seven years old and my sister was five, we were playing in the front yard when my Daddy squealed out of the driveway. Mama came to us and said that PawPaw had died in a bad wreck. As the details drifted out, we heard what happened. He and MawMaw lived in a dry county. He was in his 60s then. He was drunk but wanted some more. He coerced a 14-year old neighbor kid to drive him across the river, to Atlanta, for more booze. He wasn't happy with the speed that the poor boy was driving, so he reached over with his foot and stomped on the gas. The car sped out of control and broadsided a tree. The boy lost most of his teeth. PawPaw lost his life. Months later, my Daddy thought he saw him in our carport window, burning in hell. 

The funeral proceedings were both horrifying and fascinating to me. They put him, in his casket, in MawMaw's parlor. I wanted to scream and cry and giggle all at the same time. I was embarrassed and troubled that I almost laughed. I had to pinch my nose really hard and cover my mouth. In the next breath, I cried at the stillness. Even he, in all his wickedness, couldn't defy death. And even he, who demanded his way and hurt everyone he came across, couldn't keep people from loving him. 

His legacy was addiction and meanness. His eight children  and thirty-something grandchildren have wrestled with a myriad of demons. Poverty, bitterness and the devil may have seemed to triumph, but in the end, God gets the last word. I believe God likes to defy the odds. When you go back 10-11 generations, you find Brian Boru, the God-fearing king of Ireland. Then there's my Daddy, the last of the eight children....the epitome of fun, kindness, mercy and God's redemption. 

Now, even with the legacy of my Godly father to guide me, if I were not led personally by the grace of God, I would follow willingly down that easy path of addiction. Indeed, I wrestle with that most acceptable of enslavements: food. I found out recently that there are even 12-step programs for people like me. I think I'm not addicted, until I try to deny myself and then the villain raises its head. We are living it up this week with our children and grandchildren at the beach, indulging in all kinds of food, laziness, laughter and late nights. I'm enjoying it thoroughly, but at the same time thinking of things that need to change in my near future, in a permanent way in my life, if I am to enjoy all these blessings God gave me. I find myself between the mores of a noble king and an indulgent drunk. Isn't that just the way life is? Choose you this day whom you will serve...