Category Archives: Disease

Holding on Tight

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Today I drove 26 miles to the nearest shopping mall to run several errands. On the way home (about an hour later than I’d anticipated), God had something to say.

I was rounding a gentle curve on a busy expressway when a flash of color filled my rear view mirror: a spectacular sunset-in-progress. Brilliant orange slashed with aqua and gold made me look as long (and as often) as I dared while moving at 75 mph.

As I drove, the dramatic colors widened in all directions, lighting up half the sky, and I craned my neck to see the show for real rather than just in the mirror. But road-swerve persuaded me to try for a phone picture instead.

Putting the driver’s window down, I held out my phone, pointing behind me, but other than blurred pictures of other cars and trucks, I got nothing.

The sunset continued to develop, and I grew sad thinking it might fade before I could get a good look. I picked up speed, racing for home and the beach where a wide-angle view would make for great photos. Just as I arrived, though, the light show abruptly ended and the sky went grey. I was crushed.

That’s when God spoke. “Margaret, how could you feel crushed after the extravagant gift I just gave you? I arranged for you to spend precisely enough time in the stores to end up on the road exactly in time to see that amazing sunset, so why are you whining?”

My response was, “Because I didn’t get to see it fully, the way I wanted to, or take pictures to study later. Why couldn’t it have lasted a little longer?”

None of this impressed God, and what he said next was difficult to hear.

Mary“That sunset you were trying to hold onto isn’t the only impossible thing you’re trying to do. The other has to do with your sister Mary. Tomorrow she gets her first scan since chemo ended, a scan that’s going to hunt for cancer. Your hope for good results is rooted in a desire to hold onto her, but you can’t do that any more than you could hold that sunset.

“Every sunset belongs to Me, and Mary belongs to Me, too. Whether she gets good or bad news tomorrow, your response should be to confidently trust Me and My decisions about her life. Please remember that I’m holding onto her in a way you never could, so take courage from knowing that.”

But letting go of a sunset is one thing; letting go of Mary is something else entirely.

“Lean not on your own understanding but in all your ways acknowledge him…” Proverbs 3:5-6

Praying with Mary

Tomorrow, the 11th, is my post-chemo scan. Please pray for peace of mind and for complete acceptance of God’s perfect plan, both in my body and in my heart.

Thinking Big

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Heading to ItalyWhen Nate and I had been married for three years, Nelson was on the way, and we knew life was about to change radically. So when I was six months pregnant, we decided to take a trip to Italy, figuring it might be our last chance. It was just the two of us, although technically Nelson came, too.

We rented a little Renault and roamed the country for two weeks, from Rome to Milan, having the time of our lives. As we left, we vowed to return.

Nate the studentNate had been a history major in college, and he never met a fact he didn’t memorize. His knowledge of world history lit a flame of desire to travel to the places he’d studied as a student, but everyday commitments (and his big family) gave him a different journey. In recent years, however, time to travel began coming into focus.

Then his health failed.

Gradually he realized his dream to visit historical sites wasn’t going to come true. He said, “Even though I never got to go to the places I’d hoped, at least my kids have seen the world.” He was referring to the five who’d been on mission trips, several of them literally circling the globe.

I feel sad he missed out on so much and wish I’d worked toward at least one historical trip. Our good friend Erwin Lutzer leads tours in Europe, and one of them had a strong pull for Nate: the Reformation Tour.

He talked longingly about that itinerary, hoping to go. Having grown up in a Lutheran Church, he’d read much about and by Martin Luther and actually knew the contents of the 95 theses. He would have relished seeing the church where they had been presented.

This morning as I thought about Nate’s unmet travel goals, God sent immediate comfort in an interesting way. Out of “the blue” came this thought: “You can stop bemoaning that Nate never took the Reformation Tour, because he knows Martin Luther personally now and has gotten the whole thing directly from him.”

How silly of me, dreaming about earthly pleasures for a heaven-dwelling Nate! That’s like bouncing a five year old on my knee and saying, “Now, isn’t that much better than Disneyland?”

Many years ago I taught our little children to sing the Sunday school chorus, “My God is so BIG!” They internalized the message easily, ascribing all the good parts of “big” to God, with childlike faith. If we adults would enlarge our view of the Lord and his kingdom, we’d spend much less time regretting and much more anticipating.

So as good a guide as Pastor Lutzer is, I think Nate has probably lost interest in joining his Reformation Tour.

”Blessed are those who die in the Lord from now on. Yes, says the Spirit, they are blessed indeed.” (Revelation 14:13b)

The Upshot of Shots

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New babyWhen newborns come into the world, they arrive with a clean slate which usually includes freedom from disease. We parents immediately jump in to keep it that way by yo-yo-ing back and forth to the pediatrician until our children virtually hate their doctor. That’s because every appointment includes a vaccination.

All 7 of our kids had the same pediatrician, a wise, gentle man we grew to love as a personal friend. The kids would ask, “Am I having a shot today?”

And he’d say, “No. Just a vaccination.”

Splitting medical hairs didn’t do much to cheer them, but by kindergarten, 99% of all needle-visits were over. The upshot of all their shots was freedom from the painful diseases former generations had to experience.

VaccinationsAs for me, I went decades without any shots, but the upcoming illnesses of old age are just ahead, and new vaccines can prevent some of them. One malady I’d like to avoid is shingles, a painful skin rash that can hang on for months.

Even though doctors are promoting the vaccine for folks over 60, it’s not 100% effective. But a vaccinated person who does get shingles won’t suffer the same intensity of pain.

Mom had shingles the year before she died, and nothing could soothe the fiery pain on her neck and scalp. Shingles can even travel into ears and eyes, causing permanent damage. So I decided to roll up my sleeve and take my poke.

Too bad there’s not an inoculation for sorrow and heartache. We could all bop through life wearing big grins, and worries would be a thing of the past. No more middle-of-the-night anxieties or games of what-if. Happy thoughts would dominate, and contentment would be much easier to find.

The only problem would be our numbness. Being protected from the negatives would mean being deadened to the positives, too. If we couldn’t feel sadness, how could we feel happiness? Each human emotion needs its counterbalance.

On the day Nate died, all of us suffered raw pain. But would we rather not have had him at all? No, because that would have eliminated thousands of joy-filled days.

Thinking of this dilemma in a biblical way, if we were able to opt out of sorrow, we’d miss God’s special promises to the brokenhearted. If we didn’t experience affliction, we’d miss his deliverance. If we didn’t suffer guilt over sin, we’d never know the relief of forgiveness.

Even Jesus wasn’t inoculated against sorrow. If he hadn’t willingly been crushed for us, we wouldn’t now have access to spiritual healing.

So, if a vaccination against heartache did exist, we probably shouldn’t get in line for it. Just think of the counter-balancing blessings we’d have to miss.

Jesus said, “You may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)