January 5, 2009

Posted on January 5, 2011 by Margaret

As a young mom I always fantasized about having twins. I would have given them matching names (Pam and Pat, Jennie and Jonnie) and dressed them in matching outfits every day. God didn’t put twins among my children but sent them one generation later, to Hans and Katy.

Today we celebrated the birthday of an unusual set of family twins, though, and it wasn’t Thomas and Evelyn. When Katy was pregnant with Nicholas, their first child, my niece Johanna was also pregnant. Interestingly, Hans and his cousin Jo have been pals since babyhood, both being born in 1982 and spending much childhood time together.

Their weddings took place several months apart, and when we learned they’d be having babies close together, too, it was like the frosting on the cake. Jo’s baby was due in December of 2008, Hans’ in January of 2009. But Jo’s Ruby came many days late, and Hans’ wife Katy delivered Nicholas many days early. Our cross-Atlantic twins arrived on the same day, nearly during the same hour.

I’ve enjoyed watching Ruby grow and change as a visual for what Nicholas was also doing, far away across five time zones. When I held Ruby, I thought about holding Nicholas, and it helped my missing his babyhood.

The cousin-twins turned two today, getting into the birthday excitement with vigor, as most two’s do. Although Nicholas won’t be able to celebrate with Ruby when they turn three, today they entertained us at their double-birthday bash, cooperating with every part of the day and smiling on cue in front of a bank of cameras. We marveled at their stamina and the absence of meltdowns, a happy day all around.

After their mellow behavior today, no one would guess they can both pull out all the stops with some classic tantrums. Just a few days ago Nicholas went to the wall over an insignificant issue, testing his parents to the limit. They didn’t cave (kudos) and kept their voices calm as they gently but firmly resisted his childish ploys. As he was carried upstairs, the supersonic noise level diminished, and Nelson and I looked at each other.

“What was that?” he said.

“Original sin.”

Just because these little ones are generally agreeable, it doesn’t mean the “evil in the human heart” isn’t lurking just beneath the surface. It’s present in every one of us and was the very reason Christ came to die. Watching a two year old fit of temper dispels the myth that human beings are basically good.

But it’s an oxymoron that just as they’re melting down, screaming and kicking, they’re irresistibly adorable with their pink cheeks and pudgy limbs. I think God made them that way so we’d give them the benefit of the doubt when things got questionable.

But today our cousin-twins were well-behaved. And I know they’ll look darling in the twin red hoodies that were among their gifts.

“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9)

In his own words.

Posted on January 4, 2011 by Margaret

While filing a document recently, my eye caught the corner of a paper with Nate’s writing on it. Naturally I pulled it from the file drawer to take a closer look.

It was a letter written by Nate to Nelson in 1996. The five page synopsis of his career is remarkably candid, touching on the business highs and lows of recent decades. Although Nate had never shared his personal financial data with his children or anyone else, on this occasion he laid everything out in full.

Nelson remembers receiving the original letter and being surprised at how much his father candidly shared. Nate wrote about a tortured period in his life, crediting an unbalanced love of money as the reason for his struggle, mentioning a bitterness that took root at that time.

Most men shy away from honest sharing, and Nate, too, had trouble being frank with peers. Below are parts of his letter (with Nelson’s permission). I share it because of its unusual openness and because I know if Nate came back to town with the heavenly perspective he now has, he’d eagerly tell these things to whoever would listen.

Although I won’t share the details he asked Nelson to “keep confidential,” here’s some of what he wrote:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Nelson,

The text I constantly think of when I consider the role of the Christian man in American society is Hebrews 12:1 – “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud if witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

Actually the entire 12^th chapter of Hebrews is encouragement to live a godly, Christ-centered life in the world – a world of persecution, boredom, temptation, indifference, ridicule, ease, sloth and human needs. “Run the race marked out for us.”

In other words, God’s chosen path for us, not ours. We don’t always get our first choice in the things of this world – sometimes we think we would have chosen a different body, mind, era, parents, generally different circumstances. But Christ’s mission for Christian men is to live out in a godly way what He has selected for us. We are to do so in a way that honors Him. We are to live as an example of Christ to our families, churches and coworkers.

The man who knows Christ wants to live for Him, but as imperfect humans, we fall short. Sometimes we fail because of worldly success and at other times because of failure.

In my life I went through a period of intense striving for money and the recognition it brings in the U.S.A. [Here Nate detailed his finances and how well he was doing at earning.] Then my partner had a stroke. One year later, the Congress passed the Tax Reform Act of 1986. This law reduced the net revenue of my company by $1,000,000 a year, and by 1989 bankrupted me.

I was unhappy when I had money, because I always wanted more. When I lost it, I wanted it back. I was unhappy and became bitter.

[To be continued, two days hence…]

“Whoever loves money never has enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with their income.” (Ecclesiastes 5:10)

Signature in Stone

Posted on January 2, 2011 by Margaret

I’m about to sign a sheet of 8½ x 11 paper with strange words on it: incised, polished, beveled, sawn, washed, sandblasted. It’s a verbal description of Nate’s cemetery headstone.

Although he died 14 months ago, we weren’t able to focus on a grave marker until the one year anniversary. When we visited the cemetery then, suddenly it seemed imperative to order a headstone. As Nelson said, the one scriptural reference to an unmarked grave is negative: “Woe to you! For you are like unmarked graves, and people walk over them without knowing it.” (Luke 11:44)

As we stood at the foot of Nate’s grave, memories washed over us, and though it’s difficult to design a headstone, we all wanted to get it done. After discussing the possibilities with cemetery personnel then revisiting the site, we went home and put pen to paper.

Our M.O. was to join Nate’s grave to the six family plots adjacent to his. My paternal grandfather, who died ten years before I was born, was the purchaser of the original plot when his family unexpectedly needed a grave. Their little William was only 20 months old when he died of pneumonia, an illness cured by antibiotics today. His name is third-down on the stone, a strong declaration by his parents that he should have died after both of them.

William’s funeral took place at Rosehill Cemetery on a snowy December day, surely the saddest event in this young family’s history. My father, William’s oldest sibling, was 12 at the time, old enough to remember the tiny casket and his parents’ anguish. William’s father arranged to have a photograph taken of their deceased toddler before his burial, the only picture of the son they knew so briefly.

But this family’s story further saddens. The second name carved on the Johnson headstone is William’s mother, who died of TB 15 months after her baby, leaving a widower with three children. These courageous people are a group we want to publically be connected to by designing our nearby stone in similar fashion.

This week the cemetery envelope arrived in my mailbox. Knowing it contained a sketch of our stone, I waited to open it until I could put the visual into my head. Would it be difficult to look at it? Would it be a shock to see my own name there also? Would we be satisfied with our design?

Yes to all of that, difficult, shocking, but also satisfying. We made only one addition, a phrase of Scripture beneath the names as a testimony to the important role Jesus Christ played in the lives of those buried there.

After the headstone has been installed, I’ll eagerly look for the opportunity to rest my hand on its polished granite, look at my children and say (just as my folks said), “Someday you’ll bury me here, too. But remember, it’ll be a good day, because I’ll be with Jesus.” I’ll point to the letters carved in stone that are from their father’s favorite Scripture, reminding them to keep their eyes fixed on Jesus.

After all, that’s the best possible guidance for any heartbroken person seated in a cemetery in front of a descending casket.

“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus…” (Hebrews 12:1b-2a)