Widow for One Week

Posted on November 10, 2009 by Margaret

It’s been seven days since Nate died. All day I’ve been mentally replaying the hours of that significant day, dwelling on them, savoring them (although that sounds strange) and sharing them somehow with Nate. Those sharing times are all but over, though, and the distance between us will feel greater and greater as the days pass.

My heart craves quietness. As is true of anyone who’s lost someone precious, I want to spend time thinking about Nate. Talking about him is satisfying, too, but that isn’t always possible. It seems important to go over the last weeks in mental detail. I don’t know if I’m looking for negatives or positives, but I want to look back for a while. People tell me I should have a future focus, and I’m sure I will eventually, but right now I’m all about remembering.

Today I went on my first outing alone in weeks. It was strange to be running errands by myself, and it occurred to me I didn’t have to watch the clock, since Nate wouldn’t be waiting for me at home, a bittersweet discovery. As I mingled with busy crowds of strangers, it made me lonely to realize not one of them knew about my husband’s death. I wondered if anyone would look at my worn out face with the smudged mascara and care that I was sad.

On the drive home at 5:30, which I decided to take at a speed below the limit, the overcast sky had one thin band of blue just above the horizon. Although we hadn’t seen the sun all day, as I headed south, suddenly it broke through with brilliance, turning the clouds to gold. During those fifteen miles the sky became iridescent with color, and I absolutely had to find a place to get a better view.

Pulling off at an exit with a “State Park” sign, I ended up in a deserted beachfront parking lot facing the lake and the sunset. “Great is Thy Faithfulness” came on the radio, and it seemed natural to talk out loud to God.

“What do you want me to be thinking about right now?” I asked him.

“The heavens declare the glory of God,” he answered with a quote from Scripture, “and the firmament shows his handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1)

“Yes,” I responded. “You do spectacular work. The sky is magnificent. You are magnificent. I love you.”

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to talk to the Lord right there in my minivan. Yet it was a conversation with someone I couldn’t see, touch or hear audibly. Was I crazy?

I’ve been sure of God’s closeness as we’ve walked through the last seven weeks of disease and death. He’s shown himself in the details all along the way, not literally like a hiding person might peek around the corner but like the wind might move something, proving its reality. And if he is really near, why not talk to him?

I am a widow. Even though my week-long status is settling over me with a mixture of sorrow and heartache, that’s what I am. But it’s not all bad. The Bible is full of passages making mention of women in this category. God promises special protection for us and deals harshly with anyone who harms us. We’re to be relieved of burdens too heavy to carry, and we’re to look to others to plead our case as needed.

Looking at these verses stunned me. I knew widows were close to God’s heart, but I never “owned” the Scriptures like I do now. My favorite passage (below) makes me realize it was perfectly fine to talk out loud to the Lord in my car this afternoon. He says he is stepping into Nate’s position in my life, and I completely believe him.

^“Your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name, and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called.” (Isaiah 54:5)

We won’t ask why.

Posted on November 9, 2009 by Margaret

Many times each day I walk past the little room where Nate’s hospital bed used to be, the place where he lay hovering between life and death for three straight days. It was in this small space he defied all odds by hanging onto life well after the nurses said he couldn’t possibly do so. Despite the exhaustion and stress of those days, sometimes I wish we could still be watching and waiting. If we were, Nate would still be with us.

I’ve never asked God why he let Nate die, because God doesn’t usually answer our why questions anyway. Even Jesus, hanging on the cross in agony and asking why, didn’t get his answer. When calamity comes to us, God has either caused it or allowed it. He is very much a part of the negatives. He has important reasons why he does it in each case but apparently doesn’t feel we need to know them.

Last Friday morning, as our family faced the wake, funeral and burial of our husband/father, Nelson and I sat at the dining table early in the morning. Although there was much to do, we decided to take a few minutes to think, talk and pray. When I entered the room, Nelson had been reading the biblical story of Jesus calling to the disciples from the beach. The men had been out in a boat all night fishing without any success and were about 100 yards off shore, most likely giving up and coming in.

Jesus yelled for them to throw their net out one more time in an attempt to catch something. Without questioning him, they did it and caught “153 large fish.” (John 21) As they dragged the massive catch behind the boat toward shore, they saw Jesus standing next to a fire and smelled the fish he was already cooking for them. What a breakfast of blessing this must have been for these hard-working men, both in respect to the giant catch of fish and the incredible joy of dining with Jesus.

Nelson said, “They’d already fished all night, and the fish weren’t biting. Jesus asked them to do something that didn’t make sense at the time. What difference would it make to throw the net again after a night of failure? But they did it anyway.”

From the story, we know their obedience paid off handsomely. Nelson and I talked about how life is going to be different now that Nate is gone. By allowing Nate’s death, God has already asked us to do a new thing. In many ways it doesn’t make sense to us, but there the Lord stands, asking us to think and act differently from this point on. When Jesus called out his fishing idea to the disciples, they didn’t shout back across the water, “Why should we do that ?” They just threw their net over the side against all human logic. We aren’t going to ask why about Nate, either.

Nelson and I decided that morning we want to follow God and do what he’s asking us, which is to live life in a new way. Although it seems there can’t possibly be any blessing in going forward without Nate, we chose that morning to believe God will surprise us (just as he surprised the fishermen) and make it happen.

^“Then [Jesus] said, ‘Throw out your net on the right-hand side of the boat, and you’ll get some [fish]!’ So they did, and they couldn’t haul in the net because there were so many fish in it.” (John 21:6)

The Funeral

Posted on November 8, 2009 by Margaret

What makes a perfect funeral? Strong attendance, beautiful weather, meaningful music, a powerful program, an abundance of flowers and good food. Yesterday we had every bit of that.

As with any pre-planned event, there were moments of quiet drama leading up to it. For example, Louisa struggled to find something of her dad’s she could wear or display throughout the day as a testimony of her love for him. We didn’t accomplish that, much to her frustration.

As people entered the room at the funeral home, they could track Nate’s life on 14 poster boards full of photographs, arranged in chronological order. There were also enlargements scattered here and there, along with our wedding album. All of us were greeted with the scent of many flowers, and sunshine streamed through the windows. Crowds began arriving well before the start of the service, and at the stroke of noon, music filled the air.

Family members sat in the first several rows of seats, and I took one last look toward the back of the room just before we sat down. It was standing room only with extra chairs in the hallway, and as we began the service, folks were still arriving.

Planning the program had been easy, once we learned our former pastor, Colin Smith, was available and willing to deliver the meditation. A second pastor, Ted Olsen, agreed to MC the meeting, and our favorite accompanist was at the keyboard, assisted by a beautiful alto singer.

All seven children plus our two children-in-law stood side-by-side facing the audience as the service started. Adam prayed, and the four girls welcomed everyone with thank you’s for the unending loving care so many had shown us during the last whirlwind weeks. Then the four boys read the eulogy, written by Linnea. Several had difficulty but all pushed through their readings with courage. Nate would have loved it.

As I scanned the line-up of our kids, ages 19 through 36, my heart ached with deep love for each one. They were gaining in maturity by leaps and bounds as a result of these difficult weeks and the death of their father and father-in-law, because it’s during life’s crises that we grow.

Nate’s and my brother-in-law read parts of Psalm 103 from the Old Testament, and my brother read from 2 Corinthians 4 and 5, interspersed with Nate’s two favorite hymns: “Blessed Assurance” and “Beautiful Savior.” Pastor Colin delivered an effective message from Revelation 7 with five points highlighting what Nate was doing right now, four days after his death, in heaven. His powerful invitation for others to be sure they would one day join Nate there was an answer to my prayers.

After folks had filed past Nate’s casket giving us the chance to see each one who had attended, we got one last opportunity to look at the body of the man we loved. Standing there crying, there was only one thing to do: pray. My kids put their arms around me and each other as we thanked God for Nate’s life, for our family, for each person who came to celebrate his life and most of all for God himself, the one who’d been with us all the way through and who we knew would not leave us now.

As the casket was being carried out by our four sons, our son-in-law, Nate’s brother and a young man who was like a son to us, the funeral director handed me a small green velvet pouch. “His wedding ring,” he said.

I turned to Louisa standing nearby and said, “Here’s Papa’s ring. Would you keep it safe for me?” Finally she was “wearing” something extremely representative of her father, just as she’d hoped, and I saw the Lord’s tender touch in how and when this had occurred.

Since the cemetery was adjacent to the funeral home, our train of cars, though long, traveled only a matter of blocks. The unusually warm November day helped the cemetery service go well as Nate’s body was committed back to the earth. We each put a red rose on the casket, along with the seven pairs of white gloves worn by the pall bearers.

After the benediction, people hung around the grave site enjoying the sunshine and summery breezes. Although most leaves had already fallen, color was still evident in the mighty oaks nearby, and we all appreciated the beauty of the day. We waited to watch the casket being lowered into the ground until it hit bottom. In my mind, that was the moment when it was finished.

Driving to a local church for a lunch put together by dear friends, we feasted on fruit and salads, sandwiches and cake. Precious moments of conversation with those who stuck with us to this end were especially valuable.

The only thing missing was… Nate.