Category Archives: God’s plans for us

Sadness and worry

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This morning began with a bang. Actually, I should say a crash. Nate lost his balance in the bathroom while I was still sleeping and went down between the sink cabinet and the tub. The weight of his fall pushed his shower chair up against the tub faucet so hard it severed a pipe joint there. Amazingly, he didn’t hurt himself, except for a slight cut on the top of one foot.

Nelson had been up since well before seven and heard the crash before I did, racing in to help his father. I thought of the many times Nate had helped his children get up after little-kid falls, comforting them and giving them the universal parental encouragement: “Hey, you’re alright!” Usually it was true. Now the roles are reversed, his child is helping him up, and the “You’re alright” part is not true.

By the time I arrived, Nelson had Nate back into bed, and everything was calm. Scripture certainly speaks truth when it says, “Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

As we sat together and I held Nate’s hand, I said, “I’m so glad you didn’t hurt yourself.”

He responded, “Oh, I’ve got strong bones,” apparently forgetting his bones have cancer and are extremely frail. I nodded and decided it was me that needed recuperation, not him. He seemed fine.

All eleven of us are coping with Nate’s cancer in different ways. Nate is struggling immeasurably, yes, but the rest of us are struggling some, too. My brother came this afternoon to go through files, both Nate’s personal stuff and his law office records. There are still missing pieces to the puzzle, and Nate can no longer tell us where to find them. We did this file-work in the basement so as not to upset Nate.

Thankfully, we found everything we needed, but the process was stressful, at least for me, partly because we needed to hide in the basement and partly because I’m not a numbers person. I can’t imagine handling all I’ll need to handle. The Lord gave us Lars, though, who is a numbers person, and he’s volunteered to take over for me. Although he says it will be “easy”, I know it will add a measure of stress to his life, too.

All of us are trying to handle the strain of cancer in our lives. None of our kids have complained about that, but every so often I see one or another of them sitting quietly just thinking, not reading, not talking, just staring at nothing. There’s a lot to think about.

As for me, I don’t know what to think. Yesterday while running an errand, I passed an elderly man standing on a corner in the rain with a bent cardboard sign reading, “HUNGRY. HOMELESS. GOD BLESS YOU.” An all-consuming sadness came over me, and I burst into tears so overpowering I had to pull my van to the curb. Having grown up in the Chicago area, I’ve seen many homeless people but have never wept like that.

The only thing to do was to get some groceries and bring them back. As I handed the bag to him, I looked into his eyes and ached all over for his misery. Since I was feeling miserable, too, it seemed we shared a valuable experience in that brief encounter. He thanked me four times and said he was going to find immediate shelter (from the drizzle) and eat whatever I’d put in the bag. “It will taste so good!” he said. His smile showed a half-dozen missing teeth, and I promised to pray for him. Back in the car, as I brought his plight to God, I wept all over again. I still can’t figure it out.

I worry about Nate, wondering when he’ll fall again, and I worry about the kids, hoping they’re talking it through with each other. I worry about myself, hoping I don’t come up short when the needs increase and I have to be stronger than I am today.

But God was ready for all this worry and sadness. He had us find another one of Mary’s Scripture rocks today, just in time.

“The God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” (1 Peter 5:10)

The comedian

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Nate, the serious lawyer, is morphing into a comedian these days. Unfortunately, his “jokes” are unintentional. Yesterday he asked if there were any male-female couples in our immediate family that he hadn’t yet met. I quizzed him again and again to be sure I’d understood him correctly, but I had. Finally I said, “You’ve met each of them: Nelson, Lars, Linnea, Adam, Klaus, Hans, Katy, Louisa and Birgitta.”

He responded with satisfaction and a nod, “Good. I just wanted to be sure.”

I had to laugh, but at the same time it wasn’t laughable. His comments in the last few days are a bit off, not always, but often. I try not to think about the possibility of his cancer being responsible, but my mind goes back to a conversation I had privately with his doctor two weeks ago. I’d asked him if the cancer could go to Nate’s brain. Instead of giving me a “yes” or “no”, the doctor had said, “It’s in his pancreas, liver, lungs, bones and blood. What do you think?”

We haven’t changed his meds in two weeks. Although I’d like to blame the drugs for his new off-kilter comments, most likely they’re not responsible. We’ve watched Nate lose weight and strength, lose his appetite and energy, and lose the ability to write and read. But watching him lose common sense and prior knowledge is the worst of all.

Nate has always been a walking, talking encyclopedia. We didn’t need Britannica or World Book with him sitting at our dinner table. He’s been exceptional at remembering history’s dates and places, names and faces. Where has all that gone? Is his mental slate gradually being erased?

Yesterday we were expecting a visit from one of the Hospice nurses, and he asked me seven times who was coming and at what time. This is a man who never forgot an appointment and kept his whole life straight with a few Post-it notes and a very sharp brain. It’s not easy to see him become forgetful and confused.

Sometimes he recognizes he’s said something off-the-wall. When that happens, he’ll shake his head, as if to disperse the fog, and say, “I don’t know what I’m talking about.” Hospice tells us he’ll soon cross over a mental line after which he won’t realize when he gets his facts mixed up. This, they say, will be a relief to us and a gift to him. Who knows. He may come up with all kinds of interesting knowledge and counsel we never knew was in him. On the other hand, he could end up saying whatever is on his mind without any social filter, possibly causing offense or embarrassment. These adventures lie ahead of us in the not-to-distant future.

I’ve asked two doctors and several nurses how we should handle this. All have said we ought to “get into the fantasy” with him. Attempting to bring him back to reality will only agitate him further.

Proverbs 12:25 says, “Anxiety in a man’s heart weighs it down, but a good word makes it glad.”

Maybe our “good words” will be those that go along with Nate’s confusion. Such a tactic might decrease his anxiety and even our own about what is causing him to lose mental ground. As always, it does no good to dwell on the losses. Instead we’ll continue to appreciate the Nate we are privileged to have today.

Lately, it’s become difficult for him to work his cell phone, but this afternoon he managed to pull up a voice mail left by a friend. “I should call him back,” he said. “Can you get him on the line for me?”

I dialed the number and put the phone to his ear. He listened quietly, eyes locked with mine in an expression of deep thought. All of a sudden he said, “I just really want to get this over with.”

I was shocked. Was he referencing his battle with cancer? Inviting him to talk further, I said, “Get what over with?”

Screwing up his face like a little boy who’d just sucked on a lemon, he said, “This phone call.” I laughed and took the phone from him, snapping it shut.

“Done,” I said.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting
away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light
and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that
far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,
but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is
unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

Edible gifts

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I don’t like to cook. Maybe that’s because I’ve had to do so much of it with a large family. Moms do what they have to do, though, and I’ve been thankful that those at our table have been content with simple “three-pile” meals (meat, starch, veggie).

While growing up, I had no interest in watching Mom prepare meals and was irritated when she asked me to help. The truth is, I don’t think she liked to cook either. She loved having guests and was a champion at the people-part of hostessing but usually forgot the rolls in the oven and often used ingredients well past their expiration dates. I’m sure I picked up on her negative cooking vibe and ever after have viewed meal prep as a never-ending chore.

Being the wife of someone with a rapidly growing cancer has taken my usual chore list, cut it into pieces and thrown those pieces into the wind. Although I can keep medical appointments straight, I fail to pre-heat the oven. I can remember which pills should be given when, but forget the grocery list when I go to the store.

But during the last month, all food-confusion has been replaced with order. Better than that, we are eating like royalty. I haven’t had to cook for four weeks, because relatives, friends and neighbors have been doing it for me. Its spaghetti one night, cranberry chicken the next and bar-b-qued meatballs after that. The kitchen counter looks like a bakery laden with lemon bars, apple crisp, fudge and chocolate chip cookies.

Linnea has spear-headed the cooking, or should I say the re-heating, in our little kitchen, starting each morning with her happy question, “What should we have for dinner tonight?” As she asks, she’s looking into a freezer/refrigerator jam-packed with food made by women in other kitchens. It reminds me of the biblical children of Israel who entered the Promised Land in awe of God’s delightful description:

“The houses will be richly stocked with goods you did not produce. You will draw water from cisterns you did not dig, and you will eat from vineyards and olive trees you did not plant.” (Deuteronomy 6:11)

That perfectly describes our family during these days of fabulous eating! Our kitchen is “richly stocked” with food we “did not produce.” Although it’s humbling to accept edible gifts  in such ongoing volume, this blessing has freed me up to sit with Nate. As I get whiffs of pot roast or honey ham floating from the kitchen, my heart sings, and the words “Dinner’s ready!” are the lyrics to that song.

Nate isn’t eating much these days, but what he does eat is nourishing, home-made goodness, thanks to our food angels. Many of the cooks have told me they’ve packed their food with prayers and longings for God’s supernatural touch on our situation. Their cooking and giving is a marvel to me. And we are literally gobbling up God’s blessings.

“O taste and see that the Lord is good. How blessed is the [person] who takes refuge in him! O fear the Lord, you his saints, for to those who fear him there is no want.” (Psalm 34:8-9)

And to those of you who’ve baked, boiled and brought these consumable gifts, here’s what the Lord thinks of you:

“To do good and share, forget not, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” (Hebrews 13:16)

God is well pleased with you, and so are we! THANK YOU!