Seven Years Ago

November 3rd will always be an important day for our family. It’s the day we encircled Nate’s bed and released him from this world to head into the next – a most painful experience.

Today, 7 years later, our grown children and I can talk about Nate without that pain. Instead we’ve shared memories and expressions of gratitude today. We’ve enjoyed a spirit of celebration connected to the man who played such major roles in our lives. And we’ve acknowledged that he was given to us just for that time. On God’s calendar, everything worked out perfectly, which included Nate’s November 3rd departure.

img_0636-1Recently, as I cleaned a small store room in our basement, I came across an old, stained cardboard box. I’ve kept careful track of this box for nearly 50 years, because I’ve known what was inside: letters written between Nate and I from the time we first met till we were married. It was the chronicle of our love story – detailing how it grew from friendship into love, then from dating into marriage.

And so, these many decades later, it seemed like a good time to open the box and re-read the narrative.

I cleared the dining room table and cut the old tape, allowing the letters to slip out – a treasure trove of communication sent between Nate and I from 1966 through 1969.

Since we lived many miles apart when we first met and later while we were dating, the only option back then was to wait in line for time on a shared telephone or to write letters. Besides, phone use was expensive, but mail needed only a 3-cent stamp. As a result, our love story is all in writing.

Since the letters weren’t in any special order, the first thing to do was organize them by date. Luckily, Nate was a guy who dated virtually everything. And when I was finished sorting, I counted them all – 438!

438-letters

What a delight it was to take several days to read through them, remembering things I hadn’t thought about in decades. Nate knew he wanted to marry me shortly after we met. But I was just getting involved with someone else, not ready for any serious commitment.

img_3938So, going through these old letters reminded me of three of Nate’s finest character qualities: endurance, perseverance, and faithfulness. Though he knew what he wanted (me), he patiently endured my year-long uncertainty about him. Even when I wrote about the virtues of the other guy, Nate persevered with kindness, giving me the freedom and time to make my own decision. He never tried to “talk me into” liking him best, but simply waited…. and waited…. faithfully sending a letter every single day.

(Tomorrow: excerpts from a love story)

Love “….always hopes, always perseveres.” (1 Corinthians 13:7)

Jesus in an Apron (Conclusion)

Yesterday we heard from Mary’s friend Donna as she wrote about Mary’s terminal diagnosis and the sudden return of her cancer. Several days after receiving Donna’s email, Mary responded with some reflective thoughts of her own:

From: Mary Peterson

Date: Mon, Dec 15, 2014 at 4:17 PM.  Subject: Re: My love. To: Donna Baer

donna-bThank you Donna, for your beautiful email. I have read it over and over and so appreciate your clear, honest perspectives about death and dying.

When Nate was dying, I was privileged to be a witness to much of it, my main desire being to help and comfort Margaret. Her children were magnificent with their encouragement of their parents, but God allowed me to be the one with whom she was able to share her deepest concerns and grief… probably a combination of wanting to protect her children as well as have someone of the same generation to talk to.

One of the things we talked about was how similar death and childbirth are.  Nate moved steadily toward heaven, just as labor moves a woman toward delivery. We marveled at the process, as he slowly but surely moved through death to life.   I don’t know about you, but ever since I witnessed my first birth in nurses training, I’ve always considered it a sacred moment when a baby is finally born.

I was recently reminded of that again, as I had the happy privilege of being in the delivery room as our Johanna gave birth to her fourth child.  (“Weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.”) And like birth, death seems a sacred moment as well. As Pastor Lutzer says, God is powerfully present at that moment, when we need Him most, according to His promise to never leave or forsake us. I’m trusting Him for that.

Now, as far as your kind words about being Jesus in an apron…  Margaret thinks that would be a great book title, but I’m sure I would not be a good model for it.  I do agree the small things we do, just in the process of day to day living, can affect others, and especially those coming behind us. Through this cancer journey, I’ve been reminded of that over and over as people tell of something that impacted and encouraged them. The funny thing is, what they relate, I have no recollection of!  Perhaps the little things really are the big things?

Anyway, thank you Donna, for your sweet words.  God used you to bless this old heart!  And yes, I do look forward to serving with you once again, in the Kingdom.  God is good!

With love and gratitude, Mary

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“May we be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith, both yours and mine.” (Romans 1:12)

Collecting Jewels

Today was a beautiful beach day, something special for Michigan in mid-October. Though the water was cold, the sand was warm, and I had no trouble setting aside my chores for an hour at my favorite place.

Arriving without my beach-buddy of 70+ years, I missed Mary more than ever. But the rhythm of the waves brought comfort, and as I sat in the sun with my eyes closed, my mind drifted back to February of 2014. When Mary received her diagnosis, we heard the word “pancreatic” and jumped to the conclusion she had only 42 days to live…. as Nate had.

But God did it differently this time. We were blessed with three more summers with Mary.

I’m deeply grateful for those bonus beach days next to my sister and for all the words that passed between us during those months – hundreds of conversations we didn’t anticipate having. And as I thought about that today, I knew God was nudging me to feel grateful rather than gloomy.

beach-stonesSo I got up and did something Mary and I had done every summer of our lives. I walked the shoreline hunting for pretty stones, filling a small bag in no time. The way we viewed it, certain rocks were as stunning as jewels, and we have stone-laden shelves, drawers, and closet floors to prove it.

About a week before Mary began her rapid decline, she texted me one morning. “Want to come over and glue some stones?”

When I arrived she was struggling to create a stone-covered votive candle holder.  The challenge was to glue the narrow sides of the rocks to the glass rather than their flat sides. But the stones kept sliding away, ending in one gooey mess after another.

Finally we decided to turn the holder upside-down and start backwards, letting the stones rest on each other as we built them from bottom to the top – which was actually top to bottom. And it worked!

img_4015After making two votives, we celebrated by consuming half a watermelon between us. Neither of us knew this would be our last stoning project, because in less than a month Mary would be gone.

Today, as I walked along, all I could think about was my sister, who was far, far away. While I was picking up rocks, what was she doing?

Then God reminded me that Scripture mentions a “sea like crystal” in heaven, which means there’s probably a beach there, too. Is it possible that every stone on that beach, every grain of celestial sand, is an actual jewel, sparkling in the light of the Son? If that’s true, then I think I can safely say I know what Mary was doing today.

“In front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal.” (Revelation 4:6)