Just Heavenly

Posted on June 22, 2012 by Margaret

Since November of 2009 when death took Nate out of my daily life, I’ve missed him continually. His picture sits on my desk, and when I look at his smiling face, it’s natural to smile back. Of course we can’t communicate anymore, but I’m just practicing for the future when once again we will.

Heaven is real to me. I believe everything God says, and he says heaven is a specific place. I know Nate has gone there and one day I will, too. When I smile at Nate’s picture, part of my pleasure is in visualizing the togetherness heaven promises. But Nate isn’t the only one in my mental picture. Jesus is, too, supremely so.

I remember watching a video of Erwin Lutzer’s mother on her 103^rd birthday. Her husband had passed away several years before, and she longed to go to her heavenly home, too. Someone asked if she was looking forward to being reunited with him. She smiled in acknowledgment but said, “I want to see Jesus.”

During the last 2½ years, I’ve received 9 books about heaven. One was inspired by the experiences of a 4 year old who seems to have briefly visited heaven during a surgery. Because I agreed with the title, “HEAVEN IS FOR REAL,” I was eager to read it. While trying to be mindful that the report was given by a young child, I enjoyed possibility-thinking as I read. What impressed me most was Colton’s attitude. It seemed easy for him to take in all he experienced, at face value. No skepticism. No yes-buts. Just of-courses, and why-nots!

The Bible tells us flat-out that we can learn from children, and Colton taught me, not so much about heaven as about accepting what God says about it without superimposing my own opinion over it. Children are pros at literal thinking so that what they hear is what they believe. Even Jesus pointed this out in his teachings. So maybe we ought to think about heaven like children do.

And what do they think? First and foremost, Jesus is there.

One of my own children, as young as Colton was, made a statement about heaven I’ve never forgotten. Little Louisa came to me, looking concerned. “You’re not going to heaven very soon, are you Mom?”

“No, probably not till I’m really old,” I said.

“Well, when I get to heaven, where should I look for you?” she said.

While thinking about what I should say, she came up with her own answer. “Just be standing next to Jesus. I know I’ll be able to find him real easy, and then I’ll find you, too!”

Colton, Louisa, and Mrs. Lutzer are 3 fine examples of how we’re to think about heaven: it’s a real place, we’ll go there someday, and Jesus will be waiting to greet those of us who believe in him.

Jesus said, “I am coming again to welcome you into my own home, so that you may be where I am.” (John 14:3)

Exercise caution.

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Margaret

Today while running errands I found myself driving behind an erratic driver in a compact car. She was crawling at what seemed like walking speed on a country road with a speed limit of 55.

It was easy to be patient, however, because on the roof of her car was a big yellow sign that said, “STUDENT DRIVER.” As a matter of fact, I was happy to put some distance between us, giving her space to make mistakes without pulling me into the mix. While waiting several car lengths back for her left turn, I breathed a quick prayer of gratitude that I was finished sitting shotgun for 7 driving wanna-be’s in my own family.

Handing the keys to an inexperienced 15-year-old when the minivan he was practicing on was mine, always went against me. One maiden voyage home from the DMV with a new learner’s permit at the controls saw us taking turns on 2 wheels. Thank goodness that’s over.

The saintly patience of driving teachers has always been impressive. A career of climbing in next to one green driver after another, day after day, year after year, has to be the ultimate test of endurance. It must be a difficult life to have to continually be braced for impact.

Of course these dedicated instructors do have one advantage over the rest of us: dual controls. Though they sit on the right like any other passenger, the second set of gas and brake pedals are tools they can use to avert an accident and prevent damage to vehicles, drivers, and themselves.

The idea behind a driving education course is to let a novice accumulate on-the-road experience in a semi-safe vehicle. The job of the trainer, then, is to let them retain control until the last second before disaster strikes, refraining from using the emergency pedals until the student has no time left for a correction.

I like to think of God watching over us in a similar way. There’s just one big difference: he doesn’t always use that second set of pedals when he could. Though he’s able to prevent our every mistake and accident, he usually doesn’t. That’s because we learn best from our blunders.

What if an exasperated student driver asks her instructor to get out of the car? If he does, she leaves herself without a safety net. Both she and the car are at risk, because the experienced feet that had been hovering over the second set of pedals have disappeared. With the Lord, it’s something similar. If we ask him to stay out of our lives, he probably will. He’ll continue to be concerned for us, to love us, and to hope we’ll re-invite him in.

The question is, how much accidental damage will that take?

“It’s best to stay in touch with both sides of an issue. A person who fears God deals responsibly with all of reality, not just a piece of it.” (Ecclesiastes 7:18, The Message)

Hip Hop

Posted on June 17, 2012 by Margaret

I used to have a green thumb. Mom was an enthusiastic gardener who’s skill at tending things made it all grow, and she tutored me. For decades my Illinois gardens were happy.

Since moving to Michigan, however, I haven’t done as well. I thought my yellow cottage could resemble a Thomas Kincaid painting if I hung flowering window boxes, so I bought 3 of them. Their northern exposure meant 100% shade, but I figured impatiens or begonias would work.

I tried both over 2 consecutive summers, but the boxes never looked good. Last year I purchased new groups of plants 3 times over, but saw the demise of all 3 sets. This year, though, I have a fool proof plan. Blossoms are guaranteed, because the flowers I planted are… artificial. Their label bragged they could fool anyone, so yesterday, the day before my Sunday brunch for 14, I brought the 3 window boxes into the house to set them up with white flowers and beautiful plastic asparagus fern.

While I assembled gardening tools, the 3 window boxes (full of last year’s moist potting soil) sat on my dining room table, and when I came back, I got a big surprise. The table was alive with critters who’d been living in the window boxes while it wintered behind the evergreens.

There were roly-poly bugs, ants, spiders, and several earth worms making their way across my table, exploring their new surroundings. I knew my brunch guests wouldn’t appreciate critters crawling over their feet or (gulp) their coffee cake, so had to move fast.

In keeping with my policy of never harming an outdoor creature when it’s outside but signing its death warrant inside, I started with the spiders, then finished off everything else except the worms. They received grace and were relocated in the yard.

After that, the plastic planting proceeded without a hitch except when a frog suddenly jumped out of the third window box. About the size of a plum, he startled me but quickly hopped to the table, chair, and floor, ultimately finding shelter next to a table leg. After making several unsuccessful grabs, I laced myself through the chairs trying to put a hand over him, but he always stayed one hop ahead of me.

In a way his moves imitated what I sometimes do when I hop away from God’s plans to carry me out of one of the messes I’ve made, favoring my own route out. He has every intention of liberating me, but when I pray for his direction and he responds with a protective hand over me, I jump right out from under it. Then when I get into trouble a few hops later, I beg him for rescue.

The frog didn’t know I had a good plan to carry him back outdoors. And because he wouldn’t let me hold him, he might have signed his own death warrant. Although I kept trying to catch him, in the end he completely disappeared.

Thirty-six hours later, I still haven’t found him.