By human standards, Stan was an impressive person. Tall and athletic with piercing blue eyes, he excelled in sports like wrestling and football. Charismatic and confident, he formed connections with people easily. (He probably could have sold ice in the arctic.) A secret math whiz, he could add up numbers in his head with surprising speed. But when Stan surrendered his life to Christ as an adult, his priorities shifted permanently – and so did his legacy.
Today, Stan’s kids and grandkids don’t remember a persuasive salesman or a star athlete. Instead, they recall the patient hours of Geometry tutoring; the countless loaves of homemade banana bread; the hours of driving to and from music lessons; the immaculately maintained lawns; the cute, holiday-themed gifts at Christmas and Halloween. Yes, he could organize people … but he never left the grunt work to someone else. He was the chef who also washed the dishes after dinner.
Although he remained hardworking and remarkably capable throughout his life, Stan never drew attention to his own accomplishments. Instead, he chose to brag loudly about the excellent parenting of his daughter-in-law (much to her embarrassment) or the outstanding talent of his “genius” grandchildren (despite his obvious bias). Stan was the first to refer to himself as a sinner saved by the unearned mercy of God, and he never lost his sincere gratitude to his Savior. He began every mealtime prayer with the same statement: “Heavenly Father, we thank you for…”
Stan maintained a positive attitude through freezing hunting trips, sodden bike rides, and sweltering hikes. He was the attentive audience with whom you wanted to share small victories. He was a welcoming presence when you felt like an outsider. He was not only generous and hospitable, but dependably so – not just in a crisis, but all the time. This consistent, reliable thoughtfulness formed a legacy that has marked three generations of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, as well as a wide circle of friends.
Now that Stan has gone to be with his Lord, we remember and celebrate his unfailing kindness and unflagging enthusiasm. Thank you, Grandad. We love you.
Written by Marie
Lisa Campbell
5 hours ago
From the first time I met Stan when Scott and I were in college to the last time we interacted the week he died he always joyfully welcomed me and wanted to know how I was doing. No matter what I undertook, whether it lined up with his theological perspective or not, he offered me his unflagging loyalty and support. Having Stan as my father-in-law meant having one more person in my corner and on my side. May God rest your soul, Pater.
Marie
5 hours ago
Once little Cam was old enough, Great-Grandad taught him to salute and say “HOO-rah!!” in true military fashion.