What would it feel like to have a doctor say, “There’s nothing more we can do for you. Go home and get your affairs in order.”
Nate wasn’t told those exact words, but getting things in order is what he’s been doing during this last month since he learned he had terminal cancer. Most of us have categories in our lives that we set aside for later, things like redoing an address list or cleaning out old files. We procrastinate at balancing our checkbooks and washing out our refrigerators. If I were to die tomorrow, I’d be mortified to have other people rummaging through my dresser drawers and seeing the disarray there. My things aren’t in order.
Nate has been trying to square off with each procrastinated category in his life. It has been overwhelming, yet he’s done valiantly. One of the most difficult parts about setting his affairs in order has been discovering he couldn’t accomplish it alone. He’s had to humble himself enough to accept the help he’s been offered by those who love him, no easy task. We’d all rather be the helpers than the helped.
As he has acquiesced to the efforts of others, I’ve seen a fresh calm come into his life. Maybe this is what Jesus meant when he said, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) Maybe the rest Jesus meant was the relief that sets in when we let others help us.
Whatever the case, Nate has worked to set his affairs in order and to touch base with those who are important to him. Time is slipping away, and he is well aware of it. Today we drove two hours back to our old church so he could meet with Pastor Colin Smith. Linnea accompanied us, and although no one verbalized it, we all knew it would be Nate’s last visit there. His fatigue is escalating rapidly, and I’d prayed he would be alert and focused during the meeting, able to settle any lingering spiritual questions.
Linnea and I sat on a bench outside the room as they met, praying for clarity and the Holy Spirit’s power to move within both Nate and Pastor Colin. On the drive home, we tried to get him talking about what had gone on during the meeting, but Nate was exhausted and non-communicative. Later, however, during our bedtime conversation, some of his thoughts bubbled to the surface.
“Life has a precarious nature to it, but we don’t realize it on a daily basis. I’m realizing it now, because of the crisis I’m in.”
We talked a little more, and then I asked, “Are you afraid of anything?”
He thought for a minute, fingers-to-fingers as always, and said, “I’m not afraid, really. But I’m nervous.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Well, not about what’s going to happen after I die but before that.”
“You mean the cancer? You’re wondering what the cancer is going to do to you?”
“Yes.”
We talked about the Hospice ladies and their assurance he won’t have to suffer any great pain. He nodded in approval, but didn’t seem convinced. Then he said something that gave a clue to his meeting with Pastor Colin.
“I guess eventually God takes everything away except faith. That’s the one thing that can’t be taken away.”
We looked up the verses about God shaking everything that can be shaken to show us the things that can’t be shaken. (Hebrews 12:26-28) I sensed a type of little-boy nervousness in Nate, completely understandable under the circumstances, and thought it would be good to quote that wonderful promise in Romans 8:28 for unshakable reassurance. “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.”
“That’s you,” I said. “This whole mess is going to work out for good… for you. You’re going to beat me to heaven, and heaven is about as good as it gets. You’re going to be freed of your constant back pain and every bit of this awful cancer while I struggle along probably into my 90’s, becoming a burden to everyone and wondering why I couldn’t get to heaven as fast as you did.”
He smiled and said, “Do you think you could squeeze into this little bed next to me?” (the hospital bed)
It was tantamount to a comedy routine, but it was worth the effort. He was asleep in a few quick moments. Moving my hand across his chest, I could feel the small tumors now erupting randomly on his skin like dime-sized boils. I’m nervous, just like Nate is, and my thought paralleled his: what is this cancer going to do to him before the end?
“I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, nor powers, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.” (….and not cancer, either) (Romans 8:38)
Sometimes when I read your blog I almost think I’m with you and see you and Nate and your kids and grandkids in MI!! You all are in our thoughts here in Sweden and we are sending you our blessings!!
My thoughts and prayer have been with you all over the last few weeks. You are in my prayers every day.
Much Love,
Katie Marrs King ( old neighbot and babysitter)
What a precious time you two are getting together. Thankyou so much for sharing it. Love you.
Can you hear it? This swelling chorus of cheerleaders out here, with our tiny megaphones, first putting them to our ears so we can “hear” you each day…then vainly trying to respond from our fractured hearts, to prayerfully tell you what the Lord is doing to us and in us from all that you are going through. You keep giving us permission to square off against enemies to our own faith. To face the giants of fear, frustration, focus on self, and faithlessness which are always nibbling away to give Satan an “edge.” You mightily thwarted him by your “comedy routine” of navigating that hospital bed! And Nate’s piercing insight that eventually all is gone except our faith has given me much to think about today. Again, my gratitude for this open window into your hearts and lives is being expressed daily by praise to God, worship of One who can so meet people in the hardest place. And hourly prayer for all of you. It seems the least that I can do.
Dear Nate and Margaret,
In the Olympics and other marathon venues, the final 1000 meters is run on a track in a stadium filled with a cheering crowd and yet anxious exhausted runners. Reading today’s blog and Tina’s reply reminded me of something besides faith that endures to the end–that great cloud of witnesses of Hebrews 12:1-2.
Love,
Fellows and Jo-Nell
I Am Still Standing On A Miracle Healing
We’re all in the stadium seats cheering as you and Nate and the family enter the arena for the last leg of his race. I hope you can hear us cheering!
I think we can all relate to the nervousness of the unknown when it is a first time experience. Even if we have those who have gone through the very situation ahead of us and have written in books or spoken of it, we are encouraged a little to know what is ahead. We are blessed to have God’s word comfort and assure our trembling heart for we are still human. Our Lord walked this earth to experience many agonies and with that He can say, “I understand how you feel and what you are struggling with.” He does so without condemnation and that in itself is a comfort when we look ahead with nervous anticipation of what lies ahead in our future days. Those precious moments that you have with each other and family members are like soothing balm wrapped around you and protecting you from the darts of the enenmy. The prayers of all of us who are on the sidelines are like a protective bubble, battling on your behalf as you rest in Him. We love each one of you Nyman family.
His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay…..
Our hearts and our flesh may fail, BUT God is the strength of our lives and our portion forever. Since we have heard of Nate’s cancer, we have asked the Lord to give His perfect peace. Keep casting your burden on the One who can bear it much better than you. Knowing He is and will continue to be glory and the lifter of your head. With love from The Mocklers
Dearest Nate and Margaret, Please know that you and your family are in my constant prayers, and thoughts. Nate, thank you for your friendship, and all that you have done for my father. He could not have a better friend than you all these years. Thank you for your beautiful writing Margaret, and for sharing your life with all of us.
With Love,
Kristen
Was Jesus nervous as He faced death? Humanly speaking, I think yes, as He prayed: “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me…” He knew what lay ahead but He had never experienced it before. What would bearing the sin of the human race do to Him? Tear His flesh. Destroy His likeness. Humiliate His body. Shed His blood. Temporarily take His life. Yet faith in His heavenly Father enabled Him to pray “…Not my will but Thine be done.” Nate is there. He realizes that the faith that brought him salvation will always be his. Faith in his heavenly Father’s will can carry him through whatever cancer will do to him. Margaret, your gentle questions, patient listening, loving touch and willingness to “squeeze into this little bed” next to him is giving Nate courage. Courage to be stripped of everything but his faith as he drinks the cup of cancer. A multitude of prayers are going up before the throne of grace for you, Nate and the children. You all are dearly loved.
Hi Margaret and Nate: I still can’t believe that this is happening to you and the family. I pray that Nate will be comfortable and clear minded as he prepares to meet our Lord and Savior. I can’t imagine what you are going through, but I know God will somehow give you the strength and confirm His close relation , since you are His son and daughter. Please let me know if there is anything I could do to help.
Thank you, Margaret for your bold and honest retelling of your life with Nate. You are amazing and I am praying that God continues to sustain you, give you courage, perseverance and faith to face each day.