God’s Good Gift

Posted on September 21, 2016 by Margaret

What would it feel like to be the center of God’s personal attention, receiving a really good gift from him? Yesterday we found out.

Two days ago, as Mary continued to rest, her oldest grandchildren went through the excruciating but important process of saying goodbye to the grandma they adore. One read a special letter she’d written for that moment. Another climbed into bed next to Mary, holding onto her as he recited a Scripture passage from memory.

But dear little Ruby, almost inconsolable, was overcome with the sobs of a broken heart as she hugged her grandma goodbye. Even after she’d left the bedroom, her crying continued.

It had been a rough period in Ruby’s seven-year-old life. First, the family had had to put down one of their two beloved horses due to old age and health problems. Ruby suffered during that difficult goodbye. Then she learned a new baby was on the way, and she was sure it was going to be just one more boy, stacking the gender-deck against her – their 4 to her 1.

And then, worst of all, her grandma’s cancer began to speed up, making it harder for Ruby to spend time with her. How does a 2^nd grader cope with such disappointment and stress? She’s too old to be unaware and too young to understand.

Just then, her parents got an idea. Maybe if she found out she would be getting a baby sister instead of another brother, she’d be able to focus on that arrival (in February) rather than her grandma’s departure (very soon).

Of course there was no guarantee it was a girl, but at least there was a 50/50 chance. So her mom, Jo, called for an ultrasound appointment. “How soon can you fit us in?”

Within hours Jo, her husband Drew, and their two oldest, Beck (9) and Ruby, were in the examining room. When they left the hospital, the answer to their gender-question was written on a white card, and none of them knew what it said.

After they’d made their way to Dairy Queen and were enjoying ice cream, Jo handed the closed card to Beck and Ruby. “How about if you tell us which it will be?” she said. And the children took the card, turned around for privacy, and opened it.

Jo and Drew knew they were taking a chance. What if it turned out to be yet another brother for Ruby? Would she dissolve in sobs? Would it make things worse?

But when Ruby turned around and looked at her mom, she didn’t have to say a word. The answer was written all over her face. A girl!

This time it was Daddy who was weeping with his awareness of the Lord’s fantastic timing of this special gift. Though Ruby’s grandma will soon be gone, a baby sister will soon be here.

But God wasn’t finished even yet.

Yesterday evening, Jo sat next to her own mom, Mary, in her dimly-lit bedroom, hoping she would be able to take in the good news about a little granddaughter coming. When she told the story, Mary broke into a broad grin. Then, with heavy eyes half-closed, she softly said, “Great… Congratulations!” And these turned out to be her last spoken words.

The pink rose Jo left on the nightstand is a steady reminder to Mary and all of us that God sure does give good gifts.

“If you, then…. know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11)

Mary’s Light

Posted on September 19, 2016 by Margaret

The days before someone moves from earth to heaven are sacred ones, and Mary is in the middle of this remarkable time. Because she is, her family is there, too. God’s close presence is evident in her calm, quiet demeanor, and the rest of us are taking our cues from her. Coming close to the most spectacular life-event she will ever experience has not unnerved her at all. That’s because she’s completely ready.

Although Mary has become quiet and spends most of her time sleeping, she still has a will to greet her loved ones with a gentle smile when they enter the room, giving each a few loving words as they do. She’s in no pain and needs meds only to hold off nausea and get solid sleep at night. But even as her body loses its battle with disease, her face grows more beautiful by the day.

Mary’s grown children, nieces, and nephews have been a steady presence, making meals, doing laundry, and encouraging one another. But her 11 grandchildren have been kept at bay. That’s because most are very young, and little people bring noise, commotion, and a general hubbub.

But that hasn’t stopped these grands from sending a stream of words and drawings to encourage their grandma, the older ones describing in words what she means to them. As this person whom they adore so much becomes quieter, their messages of love become louder. And more descriptive:

You are my hero.
I love how you love candy and gum.
I love all the things you do and the person you are.
You have an amazing, godly heart that leads people to God.
You have all the right in the world to freak out, but you are calm and faithful.
In my mind you are super-grandma.
You make me think anything is possible. You make me want to run a 10,000 mile run, and I hate running!
Even though your troubles are big, you still are positive and love others and God.
Your heart is filled with joy, and you spread that joy to me.
You love when you are at your darkest days.
I love how you love the game of baseball.
You are very generous.
I will always and forever love you, even if you’re not here.
You’ve made me a strong Christian.
You mean so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo much to me.
You’ve been a light in the world, showing all the traits of a godly woman.
God has used you in so many ways in his plan.
You like to give gum to people from your car of wonders.
I will never, ever stop loving you.

And one more, my personal favorite:

Grandma, you are like a flashlight in a world full of darkness.

This grandmother has done a good job “shining for the Lord” in front of her grands, and they’ve all seen this light in her. A while back she told me that her greatest concern in leaving them is not being able to continue coaxing them toward Jesus.

One of her older grandchildren wrote out Isaiah 14:27 for her, which says nothing can stop God’s plan for a person’s life. And apparently his plan is that Mary’s life, including her godly glow as a grandma, will soon end. Yet her influence will shine for decades to come.

When Mary was asked if she had any prayer requests, her whispered answer was consistent with the rest of her life: “Pray that I’ll finish strong and give all the glory to God,” a couple of brightly shining requests.

“Prove yourself to be blameless and guileless, innocent and uncontaminated…. in a generation among whom you are seen as a bright [flash] light in a world of darkness.” (Philippians 2:15, loosely translated from the Amplified version)

What about Jack?

Posted on January 8, 2016 by Margaret

Our good buddy Jackie-Boy has written his last blog. On January 5^th his gentle heart stopped beating, and he fell to sleep. All of us began grieving the minute we made the appointment, but no one suggested we reverse the decision.

Earlier, Jack and I had shared a last walk, crunching our way around the neighborhood on icy snow, taking our time. For once I didn’t hurry him with, “C’mon, Jack. Let’s keep moving.” He stopped and sniffed to his heart’s content, though his heavy limp revealed a shoulder that was more painful than ever. But the frosty cold and 21 degrees was his dream weather.

Once at the vet’s office with Birgitta, Emerald, Louisa and her boyfriend Teddy, Mary, and me, he sniffed his way around, wagging happily and returning to each of us repeatedly for loving pats. Even after we moved to a private room, Jack continued to do well. The rest of us, though, deteriorated fast. It was hard to see the white blanket lying on the floor, though we were told he didn’t have to lie on it — his choice.

After that, our tears began to fall, and an invisible blanket of sadness wrapped around all of us. Dr. Mike, Jack’s vet, is exceptionally gentle and had been Jack’s friend for years. He’d given him an overall assessment several months ago and hinted back then that this day wasn’t too far off.

The scale indicated Jack had lost seven pounds, down to 72. None of us revealed, though, that just before coming to Dr. Mike’s he’d eaten two lamb shanks, a gift from his ever-thoughtful “Aunt” Mary. His tummy had never been happier — and there wouldn’t be time for an upset stomach.

Patiently Dr. Mike took us through the details of what was ahead and answered our questions. And then it was time… one injection to coax him to sleep and a second to stop his heart.

Jack, always a patient patient, didn’t even flinch as the first one was administered, but within a few short minutes his steps began to wobble like someone who’d had too much to drink. He walked over to the white blanket and plopped down right in the center of it, a wise choice. Kneeling in front of him, I petted, hugged, kissed, and loved my pal in every way I could, as the others did, too. Then, fully relaxed and feeling no pain, he slowly closed his pretty brown eyes.

“Take all the time you need,” Dr. Mike said. “I’ll come back when you’re ready.”

Wetting his fur with our tears, we loved on Jack and hung onto our last moments with him. But then it was time for the doctor to come back for the final step. Jack didn’t move when an IV line was inserted into his leg and the last drug put in. Though we’d been warned he might open his mouth, gasp for air, shudder, pant, or lose his bowels, none of that happened. He just slipped away without any movement at all – a good dog, even in death.

As for the rest of us, we couldn’t stop crying. Leaving the room while Jack remained on the white blanket was awful. Carrying his collar out without him in it hurt terribly. And as we arrived home to his footprints in the snow, my sobbing just wouldn’t stop. But that was only the beginning.

All the next day I stayed in my pajamas, something I haven’t done in 70 years. Unable to deal with dismantling Jack’s bed, washing his bowls, or putting his leash away, I just cried and cried. I’m fairly sure part of it was the history Jack and I shared with Nate. Six years ago when he died, Jack had moved in close with cuddly comfort. Though I still can’t explain it, my tears that day were somehow linked with fresh sadness about Nate, too.

The second day after was better, probably because it had to be. Birgitta, Emerald, and I boarded three consecutive flights on a 20-hour travel day that took us to Kona, Hawaii, and the University of the Nations there. [ Next post…. I promise.]

In the mean time, we’re thanking God for our dear pal Jack and the gentle way he left us. As we said goodbye to Dr. Mike that day, he hugged both Mary and I and said, “You’ve just given the kindest gift of all to your dog.” And though it still hurts, I know that’s the truth.