Category Archives: God’s plans for us

Beaching it

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Today the mercury reached for the 100 degree mark on my kitchen thermometer as it did in much of the country. Without AC, my two best options were the basement or the beach. No contest.

Floating in the cool water looking back at the sand dune, I thought about Nate’s last beach visit. In the summer of 2009, just before we learned of his cancer but well into his back pain, Mary and I wondered if we should leave him to go to the beach that day. He was settled in his favorite chair at the cottage, his back resting on an ice pack, with his two favorites next to him: the newspaper and a mug of coffee. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

It was a coolish summer day, so Mary and I settled into our low beach chairs away from the water line at the base of the dune. Thirty minutes later, we were surprised to see Nate struggling down the sand, coffee and newspaper in hand. I was delighted and jumped up to get him a chair.

“You came!” I said, knowing the 10 minute uphill hike to the beach must have taken a toll.

He didn’t last long, but I admired the way he wanted to participate, despite substantial pain. Surely the cancer was secretly doing its damage by then, and his misery must have been extreme. Did he sense that day’s beach trip might be his last?

When life gets raw and options narrow, most of us cling to life’s ordinary things. If we suspect death might be coming, we adhere to our regular routine as if that might hold it back. A perfect example was the morning after Nate heard the words “terminal, pancreatic, stage 4, metastasized.” He got up and went to work…. as usual.

If we had even a blurry picture of what awaits us after cancer “wins”, we’d rush to our death beds. It may be psychologically healthy to hold onto our earthly lives, but heavenly-speaking, it’s absurd.

As Nate neared the end, he had one foot in each world. He held onto the commonplace, newspapers (unread), coffee (undrunk) but finally settled into his hospital bed like a beach-lover fits into a comfy beach chair. Peace enveloped him as he gradually curtailed his involvement with the ordinary and committed to the extraordinary.

Today as I looked at that little dune, I found the memory of Nate’s last visit to be sweet and felt deep satisfaction in knowing he’d been moved from the comfort of earth’s regular routine to the glories of eternity.

And it happened as smoothly as slipping into a cool lake on a hot summer day.

“Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death.” (Isaiah 57:2)

Holey Living?

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This morning my neighbor showed me her unique key ring: a beach stone with a hole through it. She and her granddaughter collect these holey stones, and their finds have been lavish enough to create a long garland of them above her kitchen sink.

Often we think of holey things as being broken or deficient. For example, when our bones get holey, we have osteoporosis. Holey teeth mean cavities, which can lead to root canals and crowns. A hole-in-the-wall refers to a dingy, unimpressive room or apartment.

Just as often, though, holes can be positive: the holey sponge used to seal my slate floor; the holes in notebook paper used to anchor pages to a 3-ring binder; the holes in board games like Chinese Checkers or Parcheesi; holes in lace, handmade by skilled grandmas; a hole-in-one.

There’s also the category of holey items that were negative at one point but have now become positive, like holey jeans. Once considered ready for the rag bag, expensive jeans wear designer labels these days and are marked by well-placed, professionally cut holes.

Some holey things can’t be seen at all but are significant nonetheless: a hole in someone’s heart (sadness); a hole in my head (irrationality); an ace in the hole (hidden advantage); holes in an argument (unsound reasoning).

Worst of all, I think, would be holes in my thinking about the way to God, an inaccurate analysis of the way to have eternal life in heaven. To be wrong on this would be to suffer severe, never-ending consequences. We don’t want any holes in our thoughts about what comes after death. Happily, God doesn’t leave us guessing. In Scripture he details clearly the route to heaven:

1.  Every one of us does wrong things, which are sins. (Romans 3:23)

2.  Since a perfect God can’t live with sinners or their sins, we’re doomed without a way to get rid of them. (Romans 6:23)

3.  That’s where Jesus comes in, having voluntarily sacrificed his flawless life for our sinful lives. (Romans 5:8)

4.  When we admit we need his forgiveness, God cloaks us in Christ’s righteousness and saves us from eternal death. (Romans 10:13)

And that’s the unholey way to get to heaven.

After we’ve followed these steps, we can begin learning to live a life that is not holey (full-of-holes) but is, instead, holy. Not that it’s easy! But some good starting points are to choose impartiality over judgment, humility over arrogance, and forgiveness over vengeance.

Although none of us can do all of that, all of the time, we can all make an effort in those directions. And when we do, we’ll gain holiness a little bit at a time. And best of all, when we get to heaven we won’t need a key ring or a key to get in, because Jesus himself will open the door.

“What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

Transported Back

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I don’t know what prompted me to do it, but tonight I clicked on my email file entitled “Nate”. The day after we received his fatal cancer diagnosis, I started saving messages in this then-new folder. One of the first entries is the long letter I sent to my closest friends letting them know our dreadful news.

Following that are pages and pages of letters, literally hundreds of emails containing endless offers to help, promises of prayer, expressions of love, encouraging hymn-words and powerful Scriptures. Tonight I read one after the other for several hours until I was weak with gratitude.

I’m not sure what prompted me to delve into those emails. Maybe it’s that I’ve been missing Nate a great deal today, and possibly it’s because the non-stop activity of the last several weeks has quieted. As I plunked down in my flowered lazy-boy on a tiring 90 degree day without air conditioning, I was preparing for a prayer time when my thoughts turned to Nate.

Back then, as we took our first steps into the world of pancreatic cancer, we were uninformed and unproven. The pain escalated (both emotionally and physically), and the emails describe countless offers of (and eventually acceptance of) charity. Love-gifts are often difficult to accept, but gradually we understood that charity is simply another word for love. Even as I read the emails tonight, love radiated from the screen, and I was overcome with the thoughtfulness of others.

Reading was difficult, but I couldn’t stop, despite the tears. Overwhelmingly, the singular message to our family 20 months ago and to me tonight was of unfailing love, love from friends and relatives, and from God.

When a writer would say, “I have no words,” or “Words are inadequate,” they would often follow that with God’s words instead, a supremely comforting alternative. Isaiah 41:10 (below) was repeatedly mentioned.

Many corresponders reminded us we were all part of the same family, the family of God. How good it was to be steadily and repeatedly told of the bond we shared in Christ, because that assured us the emailers were now willing to share in carrying our burdens, too.

When I finally stopped reading, I felt like I’d been given a short course in “What to Do in a crisis.” Along with lots of love, emailers dispensed wisdom, encouragement, strength and hope in a hopeless set of circumstances. None of us knows exactly what to do when tragedy strikes, but these people all did something, and I’m so grateful.

Today I really missed Nate. Although it’s been a long time since I’ve gone back to those last 42 days with him, tonight it was the right thing to do.

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)