Seeing the Future

Posted on November 19, 2009 by Margaret

Most people want to know what’s in their future. Some pay fortune tellers to find out. Others read palms, tea leaves and crystal balls. But is it a good thing to know?

As Nate and I moved to Michigan in June, we had no idea what was coming in September, the month we got his cancer diagnosis. Even in September, we had no idea he’d be leaving for heaven by early November. Today, I have no knowledge of what’s going to happen tomorrow.

How would Nate and I have done things differently, had we known there would be only 42 days from his diagnosis to his death? Would we have rushed off to do some fun things before he was too infirm to want that? Would we have invited a string of friends to visit before he was unable to tolerate the stress of company? Would we have eaten more chocolate? Fixed lobster for dinner? Visited Europe? Maybe, but probably not.

Nate eading cards, small

What if Van’s Medical Supply had pulled their truck up to our door and unloaded all 21 pieces of hospital-type equipment at once? We would have had a major look into our future, and it wouldn’t have been good. I am thankful we didn’t know. Taking health steps downward one at a time was better than leaping down the whole staircase at once.

Another fact I was glad I didn’t know ahead of time was that I would have to keep track of 38 different bottles of medicine along with their dose amounts and times to give them. I’d have said, “If that’s my future, I can’t handle it.” But as the prescriptions increased, my ability to manage them increased, too, beyond my natural ability. God was one step ahead of me, equipping me to meet the need.

I didn’t worry about it beforehand, because I didn’t know it was coming. Now, with Nate gone and his medicines too, the old me, the ditz who can’t do numbers, is back. Balancing my checkbook is hard again, and I look back in wonder at how God prepared me for that numbers task that once was in my future and now is in my past.

How about my life as a widow? Would I want to know ahead of time exactly how that’s going to go? Only an idiot would say “yes” to that. I know there will be challenges greater than I’ve yet experienced in 64 years but don’t know what they’ll be. Not knowing, I don’t have to worry or fret.

The beautiful thing about God caring for me is that he’ll ready me for the tough stuff that’s coming before it gets here. I picture him walking ahead with a big machete, slashing away every obstacle in my path before I get there. I’ll be able to put one foot in front of the other without falling because of his provision for my future.

Some may desire to know what their “fates” will be. Not me. I’d rather claim “the full-circle verses,” the ones that describe how God is literally all around me and my future. After that, it’s easy to leave everything up to him:

“The Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:12)

“As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, from this time forth and forever.” (Psalm 125:2)

“The Lord will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you may seek refuge.” (Psalm 91:4)

“The Lord is the one who goes ahead of you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:8)

“You have enclosed me behind and before, and laid your hand upon me.” (Psalm 139:5)

When death is coming

Posted on November 18, 2009 by Margaret

Death is coming to all of us. “It is appointed for man to die once” is a quote from Scripture (Hebrews 9:27), and every one of us will eventually succumb to something. To be aware of death’s timetable is to receive a gift, even though at the time it seems more like a curse.

When we know ahead of time, we have the chance to say loving words to the one who will be leaving us. We can also right wrongs. Although it doesn’t come easily to blame ourselves for anything, when a loved one is dying, we can quickly self-judge and desire to make things right.

This burst of good conscience and the apologies it prompts can be positive, but I believe it does more for the one seeking to make things right than the one who is dying. Coming to the death bed of someone we love with a list of “I’m sorry for this and sorry for that” can actually be selfish. We want to absolve ourselves of guilt. But to the one who is dying, such “dumping” might be overwhelming or even seem like too little too late.

During that first night after Nate and I learned he was infected with a rapidly growing stage 4 cancer, my mind flooded with regret. As he slept next to me in the deep fatigue of fatal disease, I lay in bed quietly weeping. Having always wanted to tweak this or that about him, I suddenly felt like a terrible wife. After nearly 40 years of marriage, I should have been long past such shallow thinking and far deeper into practicing unconditional love. Even focusing on myself that first night instead of on him was an indication of my selfishness. Nevertheless, I wanted to right all wrongs a.s.a.p.

When morning came, though, I saw the foolishness of listing my regrets to Nate. What could he say but, “Oh, that’s OK.” It was like fishing for a compliment. The only effective remedy would be to determine, from that moment on, to be the best wife I could be for as much time as we had left together.

I prayed God would control my thinking as Nate and I embarked on what we thought would be a six month journey. “What should I do about all my regrets, Lord?” I asked.

And God answered me. “Be to Nate what I created all wives to be: a helper. If you do that, you’ll please him and also me.” I didn’t have to be a perfect wife, just a helpful one. It was a massive relief, because I knew I could do that.

Beginning that day and every day thereafter, I looked for helping moments. If Nate was struggling to pick up something, I’d step forward with, “Let me help you with that.” (Easy.) If he didn’t have a drink next to his lazy-boy, I went for ice water. (Easy.) If he had trouble getting his shoes on, I kneeled to wiggle them on and tie my “magic bow.” (Easy.) If he was craving spaghetti for dinner, I aborted other plans and made spaghetti. (Easy.)

I don’t list these things to prove I was wonderful. I list them to show how easy God made it for me to finish our marriage without regrets. When doubt snuck in during the night telling me I wouldn’t be able to handle Nate’s increasing needs, I cried out to God, “I don’t think I can do this!”

He gently reminded me, “Remember, all you have to do is help him,” and I would calm down.

birthday cake smaller When it was all over, I had no regrets about my behavior during the six weeks of Nate’s illness. Simply being a helper was all that was required. Why couldn’t I have been a helper and only a helper (not a manipulator or a controller), throughout the 40 years we spent together? God’s way is always the better way.

“Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him.’ ” (Genesis 2:18)

Two Weeks Ago

Posted on November 17, 2009 by Margaret

Today marks two weeks without Nate. He is all I think about, and I still let my mind meditate in detail on the moments of his last days. This seems odd, seeing as 14 days have passed, but trauma makes its mark, and I can’t think apart from it.

“Should I stop blogging about your father?” I asked several of our grown kids. “Will people get tired of hearing about his fight with cancer and his death?”

They all responded that losing my husband two weeks ago doesn’t constitute a reason to move on. I was thankful for their answer. It’s therapeutic for me to talk, write and think about Nate.

Today I was thinking back two Tuesdays ago to a few minutes after Nate died. All of us were at a loss as to what to do next. Life had increased in intensity from the day of his cancer diagnosis until his death, which was somewhat like the conclusion of a fast-paced drama. How do you follow that? And how do you avoid falling off an emotional cliff when it’s all over?

We had decided that night we’d do what Nate would want us to do and eat the Chinese carry-out food we’d just put on our plates the moment before he chose to move into eternity. Just before we began eating, each of us feeling subdued and strange, we needed a quick boost.

Earlier in the afternoon while Nate slept, I’d opened the day’s mail. In it was a letter to Nate written by a four-decades-long friend of ours, Lynn. As we sat with our dinner plates on our laps in the living room as we’d done when Nate was in his lazy-boy there, I decided to read from the letter:

“Nate, you are a fine example of running the good race, keeping a steady pace even when the ‘walls’ of life hit you hard. In keeping with this theme, we got an idea for the Chicago Marathon this month (Oct.). Tim, our son-in-law, a hematologist, ran for a leukemia/lymphoma research organization. He also ran for YOU as a symbolic gesture of support for the good race you have run, Nate. We sponsored Tim by donating cash we collected from creative ways to save. We hope you will accept this gift with all our love behind it. There were thousands who read the little banner on his back and prayed for you that day. And we are still cheering you on!”

Lynn enclosed a photo of her son-in-law’s running shirt with Nate’s name on it, and we passed it around the room. Also enclosed was a check for $328, an incredibly important gift because of what it represented. Just at the time when the head of our family passed away, another family was saying how important his life had been to them. The letter was also sprinkled with happy memories of Nate, along with a description of their high regard for him.

marathon smaller

On first glance, it seems like the letter had arrived too late. After all, it was addressed to Nate, and he died an hour after it arrived into our home. He was unable to open it or read it.

In hindsight, however, I believe the letter had a much loftier purpose by surfacing when it did. Exactly at the time Nate finished running his earthly race, we read from a letter describing that very image in reference to him. It was as if God put an exclamation point behind Nate’s life. After all, the race verses were his favorite in all of the Bible.

In addition to that, Lynn’s letter gave us the boost we needed at the lowest moment our family has ever experienced. I don’t doubt that God carefully orchestrated the whole thing. Just after Nate “disappeared” and we were struggling to focus on the truth of the unseen rather than the gaunt, cancer-ravaged reality we were looking at, Lynn’s letter provided visible evidence of a race well run. Her words highlighted Nate’s specific race and made us grateful he had crossed God’s finish line.

“We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

“Let us run with patience the race that is set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1b)