With or Without Vision

One of the lastThis is one of the last pictures taken of Nate and me before we learned about his deadly diagnosis. I’m thankful for it, since it represents life before terminal cancer. Key word: represents, and an inaccurate representation at that. His life already did include cancer, and as I look at the picture today, I see it there.

Nate’s smile is not his own. Though he’s doing his best, his face can’t hide his physical pain. I didn’t notice it at the time, but today, in hindsight, I see it. Even his posture tells of something unusual going on by the stiff way he’s putting his arm around me, something that had always been easy.

I remember that picture-taking moment well. Relatives from North Carolina were visiting, and we’d just finished a lavish brunch at my sister and brother-in-law’s home. Even during the meal, Nate had had to get out of his chair and stand behind it to “take a break” from the back stress of sitting. “It feels better if I stand,” he had said. But a backache isn’t cancer, and we’d already known about that. After all, he was already scheduled for corrective spine surgery.

But hindsight is 20/20, and because I now know what we were about to learn then, I look at the picture and see it coming. But on picture-taking day, we were still blissfully ignorant of that life and death crisis, which in a sense left us standing in a place of blessing.

But what about the pictures that are being taken now, during these days? Not knowing what’s ahead, when I smile for a camera do I acknowledge that I’m currently standing in a place of blessing? Am I appreciating that I’m not in a life and death crisis today?

God has ongoing 20/20 vision both in hindsight and foresight. He sees the complete lifeline of everybody at all times rather than looking at each of us one way this year and another way the next. He has no regrets about what he has allowed to happen to each of us and can’t think of a single change he might have made to how he’s acted in the past. He doesn’t want to redo any decision he’s made and never thinks, “I wish I’d done such-and-such back then.”

In other words, he’s the complete opposite of us.

I’ll never have 20/20 vision toward the future like God does, but I can learn a few things through my 20/20 vision backwards. And what I’ve learned today from studying this picture is how important it is to acknowledge, in the here and now, that I’m standing in a place of blessing.

“Always be zealous for the fear of the Lord. There is surely a future hope for you.” (Proverbs 23:17-18)

A-Z

Katie and her mom PamToday my friend Pam came over, along with her daughter Katie. Since they live in Denver, this coming-over was very special, an event that’s happened only a handful of times since Pam and I left college in 1967. These two ladies have criss-crossed the country to the tune of 5000 Jeep-miles, dropping in on people who’ve had a part in supporting Katie’s missionary commitment with Wycliffe Bible Translators. Thankfully my house was on their route, and we enjoyed sharing conversation and hot soup on this snowy winter day.

Pam remembered Lake Michigan as being the first really-big lake she’d ever seen (during our Wheaton years), so despite their tight travel agenda, after lunch the three of us made a quick trip to the beach. In an effort to save time, Katie volunteered to drive her Jeep to the lake, confident a fresh foot of snow wouldn’t hinder us.

But confident or not, most of life skips over Plan A and moves directly to B, C, and beyond. After a refreshing visit to the beach, we headed back to the Jeep through snow deeper than the underside of the car. Then as we tried to move forward (as well as back and forth), gravity slid us sideways.

We landed inches from a row of sharp rocks that threatened to slice our spinning tires, but Pam and Katie (seasoned travelers) were well prepared with two military-style shovels. As a result, our story had a happy ending, but we could easily have spun against the rocks, unable to move at all (Plan C), or found ourselves Googling “tire stores” for an evening of unplanned shopping and expense (Plan D).

No one is very good at predicting the unknown, which includes everything beyond the present moment. As those unknowns become known, sometimes we’re forced to pass through different Plans almost as fast as a child can sing the A-B-C song.

Plan B

This afternoon Pam, Katie, and I had no desire for a Plan B, which included kneeling in deep snow and bending beneath car bumpers to speed-shovel the snow away from 4 tires. But we did it in an attempt to revisit Plan A rather than miss the travelers’ afternoon and evening appointments in Chicago.

This time, against the usual odds, that worked. After digging out, we proceeded with confidence, and the Jeep lurched from the drifts onto the road, allowing my visitors to get to Chicago on time.

But what about when lettered plans move through the alphabet faster than we can adjust to them? That’s when our only choice is to surrender to the Plan-maker who will show us how to view Plans A-B-C-D not as steps down but as stepping stones to the higher ground he has in mind for us. In his mind, each revision is progress.

And he doesn’t even require a 4WD to move forward.

“Lord…. in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.” (Isaiah 25:1)

Hard Times

On the trikeWhen I was 5 years old, I was still riding an old tricycle but passionately longed for a two-wheeler “like the big kids” and would have done anything to get one. Then someone at school put the word “possibility” on my dream when she told me if I sold a bunch of newspaper subscriptions, I could earn myself a bike for free!

I wasn’t sure what a subscription was but knew I could figure out how to sell them if it meant I’d end up with a new bike! From that day forward, I began pestering my parents with the idea. Although they didn’t think I could do it, they got tired of my badgering and eventually agreed to make the arrangements.

Going door-to-door in our neighborhood was safe for a 5 year old in 1950, and it didn’t take long before I’d sold enough subscriptions (20) to earn the bicycle. I’ll never forget the beauty of that big classy bike with its shiny maroon paint. It was too tall for me to do anything but stand as I rode, but that didn’t matter. We were perfect together.

New Schwinn

It wasn’t long before I begged Mom to let me take it to school, even though we lived just across a field from there and usually walked. I wanted to ride the long way around on the road, like other kids did, and finally Mom said yes.

But that day, some time during school hours, my bike was stolen. It disappeared from the bike rack without a trace, and I was devastated. Dad called the police and filed a report, but my beautiful new bike was never found.

All of us can point to raw experiences in our childhoods, and sometimes the resulting wounds fester for years. Although there are far worse things than getting a bike stolen, it was a big deal at the time. Looking back on a broken-hearted little girl, I could say, “Where was God when a thief made off with that bike?”

We could ask the same question about every injustice in this world today, but his answer would always be the same: “I was right here where I’ve always been.”

The fact that God doesn’t stop all injustice doesn’t mean he’s choosing to be mean to us. It can only be that he sees a positive purpose in each negative challenge. Not that child abuse or other travesties are positive. Of course not! But running to the Lord whenever we feel crushed by circumstances is always an uplifting thing to do. If we’ve been wounded, he stands ready to heal with comfort.

As for me, after my bike disappeared I couldn’t summon up enough enthusiasm to start selling all over again. Instead I played upon two sympathetic parents who eventually bought me another bike. But nice as it was, it never compared to the love I felt for my first two-wheeler.

“You, God, tested us… We went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance.” (Psalm 66:10,12)