After the conclusion of Frank Sanchez's funeral, I find myself deeply saddened by his passing. Typically, I refrain from mentioning names without the family's consent, but now that the event has passed and many are already aware, I feel it's appropriate to acknowledge him. Frank, aged 90, was baptized in 1974, just a year before myself. Strikingly, he departed on the anniversary of his birth, precisely 90 years ago. Frank was deeply devoted to his family, a trait many of us admired. Some may recall his eulogy, which, for me, stirred mixed emotions. He hailed from my generation, a time when we harbored hopes of entering a new era.
Throughout his life, Frank faced numerous challenges, yet he remained steadfast in his commitment to family. His transition into service as an Elder was rightly celebrated as a testament to a life well-lived, a legacy we should all aspire to. I wish my American friends could have witnessed the eulogy; it held profound significance, especially within a Spanish congregation. However, it's moments like these that prompt me to reflect on my own mortality. Conversations with Norma my wife only amplify these thoughts. Sometimes, I question my purpose, particularly as I approach my rapid end in a disgraced position before God. What legacy do I leave before Jehovah? Do I risk becoming stagnant, merely observing from the sidelines? Even my ability to participate in special assemblies has dwindled, a point underscored in Frank's eulogy.
Frank will be sorely missed—a man of genuine sincerity and integrity. Yet, as a fellow Puerto Rican of Spanish descent, I can't help but feel a sense of resignation. Perhaps there's nothing left but to retreat into solitude, clinging to the illusion of divine kindness. Yet, deep down, I'm aware that Jehovah does not favor cowardice or defeatism—a principle rooted in scripture. So, what's the purpose in staying home today? A potted plant, regardless of its placement, withers without growth. Similarly, stagnation leads only to decline."
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