I looked up from my computer. Granddad had come into my office and was looking at me expectantly from the door.
“Come with me,” he said simply, in his quiet yet firm way. I followed him out of the church and into the parking lot. The sun was shining behind him, illuminating his silhouette like a halo. It was then I noticed that he had a baseball glove. To my surprise, I discovered that I, too, was wearing a glove.
“Catch,” he said and tossed a ball in my direction. And I reached up and caught it gracefully. Laughing, I threw it back. He was smiling too.
“When I’m gone,” he said, “You can play catch with Sam.”
This was all a dream; my grandfather died in 1993, long before my son was born or I was called to this church. It was so real, however, so vivid. It was like he’d come back from the dead.
Upon reflection, it is telling to me that my maternal grandfather would recently appear to me. Many of you know that my dad’s dad was a pastor. If I were to receive a vision, surely it would be from him! And yet, my other grandfather—the lapsed Catholic who infrequently attended church—was the one who appeared to me and he called me out of the church—not to pray, but to play—not to preach the afterlife, but to teach a lesson about this life.
This is striking to me and, hopefully, resonates with you as well. For, whether we throw a baseball or not, the point is to enjoy the day with the ones we love. That is living and—since Jesus is the resurrection and the life—surely that is holy and sacred too.