Strong Enough to Love

I remember standing in the hallway of my grandparents' house as my parents were talking with my grandmother. She had been diagnosed with ALS, and the effects were in full force. She had trouble talking, and her laugh was no longer the one I had always known. I struggled with seeing her that way and often couldn’t bring myself to go into the TV room to speak with her.

As far as grandparents go, she was one of the best. I was the oldest grandchild by at least a few years, putting me at a difficult in-between age. Seeing this, she worked to make me feel at home. She played many board games with me and taught me chess. She introduced me to Men in Black, a movie I would regularly ask to watch at her house. Her faith was another thing she passed on to me, taking the time to answer the many questions I had.

Losing her hurt. I miss her and her love. Most of all, though, I want to tell her that I love her.

Thankfully, she lives with me through our connections. I love chess because the game is fantastic, but it is also a connection to her. I often look at the stars for Orion’s Belt, mentioned in Men in Black, to remember her. Then there is the book that helped me heal after her death, Tuesdays with Morrie.

Tuesdays with Morrie

Tuesdays with Morrie is the final project Morrie gives his former student, Mitch Albom. Morrie is in the later stages of ALS when Mitch decides to visit his old and favorite professor. They agree to meet on Tuesdays to talk about a variety of topics. Between the conversations, Mitch shares memories of Morrie from his college days, giving us a fuller picture of who Morrie was as a man.

Among the many great conversations—so many that I can only suggest you read the book—a few stuck out to me.

The first shows how Morrie accepts his humanity.

Embracing Every Age

Morrie and Mitch talk about the fear of aging, a fear I have had myself. Morrie points out that being young can be miserable because there is a lack of wisdom and understanding. He sees aging as something to embrace. While our society likes to view age as decay, Morrie views it as growth in understanding.

Mitch asks why so many people wish they were younger, to which Morrie replies that it is a sign of an unsatisfactory life.

Mitch then asks Morrie if he is envious of Mitch and his youth. Morrie says no. He had his chance to be in his thirties; now it is his turn to be 78. Then he offers some of his best advice: he sees himself as a little bit of every age he has been. He can be a kid when appropriate, but he can also be a wise old man when that is needed.

He is not afraid of his humanity. Instead, he embraces it.

Saying Goodbye

Something we all try to avoid, myself included, is the reality of death and having to say goodbye.

In the final meeting between Mitch and Morrie, just days before Morrie’s death, they say their goodbyes. Morrie is barely able to speak. Instead, he uses his few words to convey his love for Mitch.

Morrie tears up after Mitch says he loves him. He is experiencing what we all desire: to be known and loved.

Mitch also did exactly what I wish I had done all those years ago.

Another Type of Man

Morrie’s life helped me process the death of my grandmother, but it also gave me a view of another type of man. He wasn't afraid of his humanity. He accepted his age, his tears, his need for others, and his love for the people around him.

He showed me the tender side of the knight paradox that C.S. Lewis speaks of. Morrie loved with his whole heart. He didn’t stop because it made him vulnerable. Instead, he saw that vulnerability as essential to love.

Love is challenging. It will cause hurt and tears, but it is worth it.

The love between Morrie and Mitch shows us that truth.

This Week’s Challenge

Tell someone you love them.

Not in passing. Not because they said it first. Choose someone who matters to you—your wife, your child, your father, your brother, or a close friend—and tell them what they mean to you.

If the words are difficult to say, say them anyway.

Morrie understood that loving someone makes us vulnerable. We may cry. We may stumble over our words. We may even feel a little foolish. But there will come a day when we would give almost anything for one more opportunity to say them.

I wish I had walked into that TV room more often.

This week, don’t stay in the hallway.

Forge Ahead

Anvil: the place of formation.
Arrow: the mission we’re sent on.

The world needs more men formed in virtue. Forward this to a brother who’s ready to grow.