The blessing of blessing others.
This was originally developed as a Toastmasters speech and entered into the International Speech contest. The speech was very well received each time I gave it, even advancing a few rounds into the competition. I thought it would be good to put in written form.
Have you ever had the opportunity to do something kind and completely unselfish for another person? Perhaps you may have even thought to yourself that in some way you were blessing this person, only to later find out that the person who was really being blessed was yourself? In order to illustrate my point I am going to tell you a highly personal story about my Grandpap and I.
I am the first grandchild on both sides of my family. Growing up I always thought that I knew how much my grandparents loved me. Growing up in Cleveland, we would visit my grandparents in Pittsburgh for the weekend several times a year. On Friday nights we would stay at my maternal grandparents house and on Saturday nights we would stay at my paternal grandparents house. Every Saturday morning that I was visiting, my Grandpap would make me pancakes for breakfast. Pancakes were my favorite food and I was convinced that my Grandpap Stegman made the absolute best pancakes in the world. Later on in life my Grandpap inspired my love of German history and my interest in learning German through his telling me stories of being in Germany with the American Army during WWII. I was even the one who gave my Grandpap the nickname “Bald Eagle”, a name that he carried with great pride. Needless to say, my Grandpap loved me dearly. However it was not until tragedy struck my family in the late 1990s with my Grandpap developing dementia that I began to learn just how much he loved me.
When I first learned of his having dementia, I handled it the way many people do. I was not sure how much he remembered and so I kept a bit of a distance from my Grandpap. I was not rude to him, but I just didn’t spend nearly as much time with him as I would have liked to. This went on for many years, but it changed the day my mom called me to tell me that he had had a stroke. It was January 2006 and until this point my Grandpap was able to still live in his house, in spite of the dementia. The stroke meant the end of his living alone in his home and he needed to move into a dementia care facility. She asked me to come visit him but at the time I had bronchitis and did not want to get him even more sick. I asked her to wait until I was healthy to come see him. About 2 weeks later I came to Pittsburgh to see my Grandpap at the rehab facility. He was sound asleep and his face was as pale as a ghost. This once proud and strong German man had lost about 100 lbs and he looked very weak. I asked my mom not to wake him, but she did not listen. She tapped him on the shoulder and said to him “Dad, look who is here to see you.” He opened his eyes and his face lit up like the sun. With all of his strength he exclaimed “MICHAEL!” At this moment I thought I knew just how much I was loved by my Grandpap, but I had more to learn.
Later that spring I moved to Pittsburgh, completely unrelated to my Grandpap’s health. Shortly after I moved to Pittsburgh my mom moved to South Carolina. She told me about her going to visit my Grandpap and taking him lunch. She asked me to go in her place and I defiantly told her that I represent one person, myself, but that I would gladly go visit him. I asked her what she took him for lunch and she told me she took him Panera soup, sandwich and a drink. At first when I went to visit my Grandpap I wondered to myself how much of my visit with him was sinking in. The answer to that question came after 2 or 3 visits when I was walking in to his room and he asked me what I had in the bag for him. I then knew that at least some of what I was doing with him was registering in his memory. I would visit him every week or so after work for the next year and a half, but slowly Panera soup, sandwich and a drink turned into a McDonald’s milkshake. Not because my finances were bad, but because this horrible condition had begun to effect his ability to swallow.
About a month before he died my Dad asked me to come with him and the parish priest to give my Grandpap last rites. Last rites for a Catholic include a final confession or absolution of sins if the person is not able to make a confession, communion, and blessing with Chrism (holy oil) as well as prayers for the dying person. After the prayers were over, the priest said to my Dad and I “You know, Rege is a man of very deep faith. He was following along with the basic prayers when I was praying them.” I was visiting Grandpap a few days later and wanted to see how deep his faith was. I pointed to an icon of Christ that I had given him and said “Do you know who that is, Grandpap”. He responded “That is the Lord, Michael.” So I pointed to an icon of the Theotokos (Virgin Mary) and said “And who is that?” He responded “That is his mother.” This made me smile and gave me a deep sense of relief because I knew that when he eventually passed he would be going to a much better place.
A few days before he passed, I brought my girlfriend Lori to meet my Grandpap. We were there for about an hour and a half talking with him. At the end of our visit I did not want him wondering who the strange lady was that was with me, so I said to him “By the way Grandpap, this is my friend Lori.” He smiled at me and replied “I figured that is who she is Michael.” At this point he was suffering from very advanced dementia and he did not remember many people, but he still knew me by name. The following Sunday I got a call at work from my Dad. He left a message telling me that as soon as work was done I needed to come to the Alzheimers Facility quickly because my Grandpap had fallen into a coma the night before and it was not going to last long. I raced home faster than Mario Andretti to get Lori and then raced back even faster. When I got there the room that he was in was empty, except for him. I was furious! How could my family leave my Grandpap alone in the hours before his death? Lori held my hand and reminded me that I had time alone with him before he died and I could say anything I wanted to him. I sat down next to him, thanked him for all of the love that he had shown me during my life, for all of the times he made me pancakes on Saturday morning, for the walks in the park discussing WWII and inspiring my love of German history and speaking German, for taking the name “Bald Eagle” as a badge of honor, and every other way that he had touched my life. Shortly before my family came back in the room I said to him “You know Grandpap, today is Sunday. If you need to go be with the Lord, go be with the Lord. Don’t worry about us. We will be alright here.” When my family came back in the room my dad suggested that I go home and get some rest because there was going to be a long week ahead of me. Initially I resisted, but soon Lori and I left. 10 minutes later I got a call from my Dad telling me my Grandpap had passed. He waited for me to come see him before he left the earth. At that moment I realized that over the past year and a half I thought I had been blessing him by visiting him but the reality was it was he who was blessing me.
To return to my original point, if you ever find yourself in the position to do something kind and unselfish for someone else, I encourage you to embrace the opportunity. You never know what blessings might return to you from your selfless actions.
