Merry Merrilyn’s Funeral

Every human breath has permission behind it… from God. None of us would be able to draw the next one, were it not for his go-ahead.

Our newborn twins in England took their first breaths 40 minutes apart, 48 hours ago. Although Thomas and Evelyn’s little lungs were ready to breathe while still nestled inside Katy, God made sure they didn’t try it too soon, a dangerous risk in their unborn, watery world. But as they were born, I believe their Creator moved each of them to take their first draw of earthly air.

It works the same at the end of life. I’ll never forget having my hand on Nate’s chest as he took those last three breaths before he arrived at his divinely-appointed moment to stop breathing, not one breath too few, not one too many. God says “start”, and he also says “finish”.

This weekend Nate’s brother Ken and I met in the Chicago area to attend the wake and funeral of their first cousin, Merrilyn. Although she’s battled cancer for seven years, in recent weeks she took a sudden negative turn when doctors found cancer in new places, and this time she succumbed.

Merrilyn’s life was full to overflowing with crowds of loving people, and she responded in kind. Her daughters, struggling to maintain composure behind the church pulpit today, shared of their best-friend relationship with their mom and the crushing blow it will be to continue life without her.

Among the pastor’s comments was the fact that Merrilyn was a master gardener: “As she tended her gardens, she also tended her relationships. She planted flowers with her children and then her grandchildren, teaching the uniqueness and value of each plant and transferring those principles to the people in her life.”

Merrilyn’s husband “offered the gift of a song” in his wife’s honor, singing with eyes closed and passion strong as he sang and played his guitar:

“If not for you
My sky would fall.
Rain would gather, too.
Without your love I’d be nowhere at all.
Oh! What would I do
If not for you?”

As he sang, I looked around at those struggling to come to terms with Merrilyn’s death, watching them weep. And I seethed with anger that evil Satan has gotten away with bringing death into God’s once-perfect world. Was the devil laughing at those who were crying today? Such a thing is detestable, but probable.

We had our own weapon, however, to fight back today. The funeral service was dominated by multiple Scripture passages, 13 to be precise. And what we heard refutes everything Satan stands for:

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.”

“I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.”

“The eternal God will drive out your enemy before you saying, ‘Destroy him’!”

“As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you.”

Buried in Merrilyn’s name is the word “merry”, which means full of cheerfulness and joyous in disposition. That was Merrilynn. Through a life of unnumbered hopes dashed, including a cancer that wouldn’t quit, she never lost her merry heart. And though a body becomes useless and eventually loses to death, because of what we read in Scripture, death can be instantly followed by new life in Christ that will last throughout eternity.

”Just as everyone dies because we all belong to Adam, everyone who belongs to Christ will be given new life.” (1 Corinthians 15:22)

Babies!

When our firstborn was eight days overdue, mom was worried. She kept looking at my giant belly and saying, “How is that baby going to safely get out of there?”

Nelson came out just fine, weighing ten chubby pounds. Back then (1973), a mother wasn’t allowed to touch her newly born baby until he’d visited the nursery for identifying, scrubbing and a proper swaddling. After I’d been wheeled from delivery to my regular room, I sat in bed watching the clock, waiting for my first baby visit. Resting my head back and closing my eyes, I heard soft crying. When I peeked, there stood mom at the end of my bed in her hat and coat, looking at me and weeping.

I said, “Why are you crying?”

“I was so worried it wouldn’t all work out,” she said, “and I’m just so glad it did!”

Today I’m the grandma, and it was my turn to worry. Our son Hans and his wife Katy, living in England, were scheduled to have their twins induced today at 9:00 AM as she entered her 40th week of pregnancy. Last night Katy’s email described how she’d been praying she’d go into labor on her own, hoping the babies would come naturally. If not, the doctor would proceed with the induction. It was show time.

How well I remember the day Nate and I learned of these twins. We knew Katy was three months along with a baby when Hans’ call came through to our minivan as we headed for home after a radiation treatment. “How did the ultrasound go today?” I asked.

“Everything was fine,” he said, “except they found a little surprise.”

My mind had already raced through all the negative possibilities by the time he said, “There’s not just one baby in there, but two!”

I squealed with glee and announced the news around the car. After a day of negatives in terms of Nate’s health deterioration, God had chosen, at that moment, to bless with abundance.

The months passed, and today we arrived at the pregnancy’s grand finale, the birth of the twins. I received a text mid-morning from Hans. Katy had indeed gone into labor on her own at 5:00 AM, just hours before the scheduled induction, and was, at that moment, in the thick of it. Instantly I was following mom’s lead and flipping on the worry-switch!

What if there were complications? So many things could go wrong! What would it do to Hans, Katy and the rest of us if the babies didn’t arrive safe and sound? I became a knotted bundle of nerves until the Lord reminded me he would handle the births just fine without my assistance.

Instead of worrying, I  started a time of concentrated prayer, always an effective antidote to my fears. Only a few hours passed before Hans and Katy were on the phone sharing details of the successful natural births and two healthy little Nymans, Evelyn Sarah and Thomas Nathan. Each of the four names honors a different family member, and I like to think that mom (Evelyn) and Nate are as aware of this as Sarah (Katy ‘s mom) and Thomas (my brother) are. It’s remarkable that Nate has had two grandsons named after him in ten weeks time, a joy to my heart.

As Hans and Katy study the faces, fingers and toes of these little ones and marvel at God’s impressive work, the rest of us will eagerly await photos and bits of news about their first days “in the pink.” I’ve apologized to the Lord for worrying so much and not trusting his judgment over mine, and next time, things will be different… won’t they?

“Your Father already knows your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need.” (Luke 12:30b-31)

Bad habits must die.

Today I did something I said I’d never do again, but an old habit got in the way of my new resolve. I picked up a packet… no… a box-full of hard-copy photos from the store. I’m embarrassed to say I now have 307 new prints to put into albums.

An old Chinese proverb says, “Habits are cobwebs at first, cables at last.” As the wildlife in our basement continues to benefit from cobwebbing our 196 photo albums, I’m upstairs shackling myself with a cable that just wrapped around me 307 times. Now I have the substantial undertaking of putting these prints in books that I haven’t even bought yet. Worst of all, it’ll put us over the 200-album mark, a dubious honor.

What could possibly be the reason for such idiocy? I do have one. It’s the tiny but potent memory card inside my digital camera. Because I can delete any photo, I click with abandon, which is what brought me up against three maxed-out cards that needed clearing. The thought of losing even one good shot nagged me until I finally decided to make 4×6 copies to have and to hold… as is my habit.

After deleting two-thirds of each memory card while seated in front of a store kiosk, I walked out of Walgreens feeling as though I’d gone on a diet and lost 20 pounds, despite gaining 307 photos. But a low moment awaited: clearing the memory cards. Pushing that “Delete All” button was more traumatic than pushing the button to launch a nuclear attack. It meant forever! What if I’d missed printing even one good picture?

My kids have pressed me to give up hard copies entirely, and I promised I would… next time. Today I concluded that my unstoppable photo collecting can continue just a little longer. How can I ignore the cry of my basement albums? “You’ve loved us for so long! You can’t stop now!”

Has this become a bad habit? Well if it is, it’s completely harmless.

But are there any completely harmless bad habits?

My 307 pictures got me thinking. How many other bad habits do I have that haven’t been classified as such? What other negative behaviors far more serious than album-collecting ought to be stopped? Every bad habit has something tantalizing within it. We can’t lick it because we like it. It feeds us somehow, gratifies something, gives back in some way. If it didn’t, we could walk away.

Experts tell us the best way to get rid of an undesirable habit is to substitute a desirable one. But since there’s already something captivatingly desirable nestled within every bad habit, finding an even more desirable substitute can be problematic and is one of life’s greatest challenges.

If I could just figure out how to conquer my album-addiction, maybe I could triumph over other bad habits, say, my love affair with sugar. How could there ever be anything more desirable than sugar? For now, I’m just trying to think of something more appealing than stockpiling photos in the basement. After watching Louisa reorganize her computer pictures for several hours straight, keeping computer albums doesn’t seem all that desirable. Talk about time-intensive!

Dusting the cobwebs off my basement albums can be done in three minutes flat. If I’m eating candy, in two.

”For as he thinks within himself, so he is.” (Proverbs 23:7a)