Growing Pains

Early morningThis morning Nelson and I set off for the airport by 5:25 AM where he once again boarded a plane back to Youth With A Mission, this time in Montana . As we drove through the dark we enjoyed talking, knowing we wouldn’t have another face-to-face conversation until Christmas.

This morning’s exchange of ideas centered on our usual: God and how he does things. Nelson is facing a new teaching position that has him working diligently on complicated preparations. None of it is easy, and he vacillates between excitement and concern. I know he’ll do an excellent job, but that’s easy for me to say; I’m not in the hot seat.

Webinar.Yesterday, though, I experienced a similar leap of stress when an email arrived from my publisher describing an assignment he thinks I should take: a webinar on handling grief. My only response was, “What’s a webinar?”

[It’s a seminar online that lets participants see and hear the presenter(s) as they answer interview questions or conduct discussions. By way of the internet, listeners interested in the topic can participate live, if they wish.]

Not only is this foreign to me, it’s scary. My contact assured me I didn’t need to be an expert on grief in general, just on my own grief experience. The goal will be to encourage people who are struggling with sorrow, letting them know they’ll be able to move forward again one day with fresh joy in their lives.

Of course that purpose is valuable, just like Nelson’s teaching is, but for both of us these new challenges are intimidating. It would be easier to dwell in a “comfort zone” and stick with that as the ongoing status quo. Learning new skills and conquering feelings of inadequacy can really take it out of a person.

But as Nelson and I talked this morning, the bottom line always has to be, “What does God want us to do?” If any request comes because he sent it, a “yes” is the only good answer. We ought to acknowledge our own shortfalls and then quickly melt into his capability, knowing that’s the only way these challenging tasks can ever get done well.

Maybe that’s the reason God asks us to do hard things in the first place. He isn’t about setting us in places of comfort or ease but prefers we stretch and grow, not as much for our own benefit as for someone else’s. There’s another possibility, too. The current “new thing” he asks us to do may simply be his chosen way to lead us on to something else, i.e. Step A toward his Step B.

Or C.  Or D.  Such a thought is unnerving.

Last dinner together for a whileBut Nelson said yes, and I did too, so we’re both off and running….  straight to God.

“Be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

Saved

Car albumThis afternoon Emerald directed my attention to a family scrapbook I hadn’t viewed in a while, a photo album with the title “Memory Lane.” Her baby abilities have been on the increase lately, and her “sticky fingers” are grabbing with greater efficiency. This scrapbook, stored on a bottom shelf, was her newest conquest.

After she’d perused C.S.Lewis and “The Problem of Pain,” she ooched left, swiveled, and grabbed “Memory Lane,” ripping out the inscription page and the first page of photos before anyone noticed. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, since many of my possessions have been similarly “loved” by grandchild-hands. But this album was a gift to Nate from me, and I wanted to keep it nice.

The bigger car, 1971Over 30 years of time, I’d collected pictures of all the cars we’d ever owned as a couple, along with a few my parents had owned. There’s Nate’s first car, my first car, and every car after that, including the multiple “low budget” cars of 7 driving children. The album has 71 vehicles pictured…. so far.

As I secretly tucked away photos over the years, I always knew they would one day be a special surprise for Nate. But it was tricky deciding when to give the scrapbook, since additional cars were always being added. Then finally I couldn’t wait any longer to see his reaction and decided to give it on his birthday in August, 2009. It must have been God prompting me, because that was his last birthday.

Last birthdayAlthough he didn’t feel good that evening, he loved his gift and praised me for the effort behind it. The very next week we learned (after a physical exam) that something was “off” in his blood numbers, and further tests were ordered. Within a month of that birthday party, we’d heard the words “terminal pancreatic cancer,” and 2½ months after he turned 64, he was gone.

Today when the album suffered at Emerald’s hands, it went against me. Something about keeping that scrapbook in good shape seemed to help keep my connection with Nate in good shape.

Inscription pageNot that a simple photo album can bridge the massive gap between earth and heaven. But just seeing my written greeting to him on the front page remains a link between the two of us, at least for me (though surely no longer for him).  We are approaching the 4 year mark from his death, and with time I find it more and more difficult to stay connected to him.

I believe God gently supplies potent reminders of our relationships with loved ones who’ve passed away (like the car album’s appearance today) as instruments of healing. People who’ve experienced loss want to reaffirm (again and again) that their bond with that person is still strong. Gifts from the past, both given and received, help do that.

And so, when Louisa saw the damage to Nate’s scrapbook, she quickly devised a solution, removing some of the photos, gluing them elsewhere, trimming the inscription page, pasting it over something else, and voila! The revised scrapbook is almost as good as new.

And as of today, it’s found a new home on a very high shelf.

“The Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

An Empty Feeling

Hans and KatyOur son Hans lives in England full time and is married to Katy, who was born and raised there. He first encountered Katy on a 5 month mission trip based in New Zealand, and by mid-way through those weeks, he knew she was the one-and-only for him.

Nate and I worried it might only be the equivalent of a summer camp romance that might fade after they returned to their native countries, but just the opposite happened. They’ve had a strong, Christ-centered marriage for 6 years now.

Shirt-tail Relatives

We four parents enjoyed developing relationships, too, experiencing many common bonds as we got to know each other. Cliff was a city lawyer like Nate, and both loved history. They, too, had a large family (5 children), and Sarah was an at-home mother, investing heavily in hearth and home as I had. Best of all, we related through our faith in Christ.

I remember our first visit to Katy’s childhood home. Sarah, who has always baked the family bread from scratch, had a stove/oven like I’d never seen before. Her “aga” was a wonder, always “on” with higher heat in some compartments than others. There was no temperature dial, but Sarah knew where to put her bread, where souffle cooked best, and where to gently warm leftovers.

An aga stove and oven

Since Sarah chose not to have a dishwasher, the stainless bar across the front of the aga served as an ideal place to dry dish towels. Their well-used tea towels depicted places of interest the family had been, and I liked spreading them out to see. It didn’t take long for Sarah and I to establish a tea towel appreciation club of sorts, and since we first met, we’ve been sending interesting towels back and forth across the ocean.

Two weeks ago, a mysterious 6” X 9” envelope appeared in my mailbox with Sarah’s return address on it and nothing inside. Along with the customs stamp, air mail sticker, and “Royal Mail” label was a red ink stamp from our local post office: RECEIVED WITHOUT CONTENTS. No explanation was given.

Empty envelope

From Sarah’s note on the customs sticker I saw she’d written “linen” and knew I’d missed out on another tea towel, along with a meaningful note that surely accompanied it. The empty envelope made me feel empty inside.

Life is full of empty experiences, most of them far more serious than an empty envelope. The Bible actually tells us to expect that kind of thing. Whether Sarah’s tea towel disappeared by accident or a misdeed we’ll never know, and “why-answers” about life’s other empty experiences usually aren’t forthcoming either.

But there is satisfaction in knowing that every empty feeling of human experience will one day be filled by God. And I believe (just for the fun of it) that he’ll even let us know what happened to Sarah’s missing tea towel.

“Your throne, O God, endures forever and ever. You rule with a scepter of justice.” (Hebrews 1:8)