Editor's Column by Tess Chierici The combination of Grandpa Gil's childhood antics and toothless grin always made me laugh.

Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index Previous Editor's Columns | Send mail to The Voice Life is too precious to procrastinate If someone gave me a penny every time I said, "I'll do it later," I'd probably own a small country. My response to homework? "I'll do it later." My response to taking out the trash? "I'll do it later." My response to filling out student loan applications? "I'll do it later." Although I got burned a few times for my procrastinating (I nearly failed a class last year), I usually came out on top. The major test I crammed for the night before, I aced. After 10 years of skillfully avoiding the dentist, when I finally went I was cavity-free. I used to joke about my procrastination. A friend once told me that the best journalists were pathological procrastinators. In that case, I look forward to a successful career. Besides, I only hurt myself when I wait until the last minute. So what's the big deal? During my sophomore year of high school five years ago, my grandfather, Gilardo Chierici, had to move into a nursing home. The old Italian owned a bad mouth and manners to match, but he told great stories. The combination of Grandpa Gil's childhood antics and toothless grin always made me laugh. When he first moved into the nursing home, I put off seeing him because the walk was long, and I didn't have my driver's license. I figured that once I got the go-ahead from the Department of Motor Vehicles, I'd visit Grandpa. Because I put off getting my license, I never bothered to go see him. My family moved to Nampa, Idaho, from Riverton, Wyo., a distance of 600 miles. Every time my father traveled to see Grandpa, I stayed home because of all the schoolwork I let pile up. I figured I'd write him a letter, but I put off getting his address. Year after year, Grandpa saw no letters and had no visits from me. By my senior year, Alzheimer's disease struck Grandpa, and he no longer remembered he had grandchildren. I felt too guilty to explain that I was his grandchild who ignored him for three years. Lacking courage, I put off another visit. Another year rolled by and a sour feeble grump replaced the man I once knew. My father no longer invited me to go with him to visit because Grandpa was so difficult to be around. He yelled at my father for not coming sooner and complained about how much he hated life. He was lonely and miserable. Last November I felt compelled to visit him. I knew he wouldn't recognize me, but I wanted to let him know someone cared. I checked flights from Portland, Ore., to Riverton, Wyo. The Riverton airport is so small that the ticket price was more than I could afford. I thought perhaps I'd drive, but my car wasn't in any shape to travel 1,000 miles. I had put off getting it fixed. My next chance to visit was the end of Christmas break. By December, my car would be running, and I planned to visit Grandpa sometime after New Year's. I was too late. Gilardo Chierici died Jan. 2, 2002. I had put off seeing him for so long that I missed all my chances. He died alone. Grandpa wasn't a believer when I last saw him. Could God have used me to witness to him one last time? Guilt leached onto me. I had always thought I would have plenty of time to see him. His death was a painful, tragic way to learn that every moment is precious. I'm trying to discipline myself to buckle down and use the time I have. Christ hasn't called us to put off the difficult and mundane moments of life. I am continually praying for God's strength and motivation to do the things I don't want to do. In Luke 22: 41-42, Christ prayed about something that He didn't want to do: "Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done." I can't imagine what the world would be like if Christ had not died on the cross. Now whenever I feel the urge to utter my favorite phrase, "I'll do it later," I stop myself. I want to be like Christ and say, "Not my will, but Yours be done." Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index Previous Editor's Columns | Top Of Page Send mail to The Voice| Journalism department website © 2002 The Voice. No part of this publication may be reproduced in written or electronic form without prior written consent from the journalism adviser of Multnomah Bible College. All rights reserved.