Category Archives: Grieving

Beach Bums No More

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IMG_4053Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful to live near Lake Michigan. Even on days when I don’t go to the beach, I can smell the lake’s fresh water and hear the music of its waves.

And with beach rocks all over the house (around clocks, picture frames, mirrors, and on door mats), my thoughts are never far from the shore. All my neighbors feel the same.

1951Mary, Tom, and I grew up spending summers on this same shoreline (left: 1951) and raised our collective brood of 17 children here. But the most authentic beach bums in the whole family have always been Mary and me.

Neither of our husbands enjoyed baking in the sun, and both were glad they didn’t have to — since Mary and I had each other to do that. Despite too much sun exposure (and the dermatologist bills to prove it), the gains have more than outweighed the losses.

Mary and I moved through 70 summers side-by-side, but then my beach buddy got terminal cancer. God graciously gave us one last summer together, though, before he carried her to heaven.

M & M.During that time we both understood that we wouldn’t be sitting on the sand together much longer, and Mary wanted to talk about it. The soothing sound of the waves made those difficult conversations easier as we faced the reality of what was just ahead.

And then… how well I remember the moment she let me know her beach days were over. Though it came as a shock, she did it gently. It was probably just as hard for her to say, as it was for me to hear.

We’d been to the beach the day before, and on this perfect weather-day we’d agreed to go again, around 2:00 PM. I drove the few blocks to her cottage to pick her up, since riding bikes was no longer an option. But when I got there, she was seated in a chair on the lawn, dressed in regular clothes.

“You know,” she said, “I think I’m going to skip the beach today. Is that OK with you? I’ve been thinking about taking a nap instead.” Not once in all the years had Mary every turned down an invitation to go to the beach.

We locked eyes and in that instant we both knew what she had just said – our beach-buddy days were over. “Sure, that’s fine,” I said, with a heavy ache growing inside. “A nap sounds like a good idea.”

I sat down next to her in the yard, and we talked for a few more minutes. She chose the topic: her own funeral. She’d always been a realist, and her practical side was eager to sort out the details.

After 20 minutes or so, she stood up slowly and said, “Well… I’m pretty tired, so I think I’ll go lie down for a little. Greet the beach for me!”

But the beach didn’t factor into my afternoon either. It would have been no fun at all without my beach buddy. Instead I just went home and cried.

(…to be continued.)

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you.” (Psalm 55:22)

Missing a Sister

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TwinsiesMy sister Mary and I were unified in heart and mind from the very beginning. She wasn’t that far ahead of me in age, only a tottering toddler when I came along. Mom referred to those days as “playing house with my two little girls,” and we were blessed to be dearly loved.

From the beginning, Mom promoted a partnership between Mary and I, reinforcing it by dressing us in matching outfits. We had identical pinafores, coats, shoes, and dresses. But whether or not it was Mom’s doing, our sister-bond began early and lasted 71 years.

IMG_4252This week, a year and 5 months after Mary died, I’m feeling extra sad without her. I’ve been trying to put fresh fabric covers on my 8 dining room chairs, doing battle with a hard-to-squeeze staple gun and its frequent malfunctions. The deeper struggle, however, has been missing my sister.

The last time these chairs were covered was 7 years ago, and the two of us did them together. As always, it was fun and efficient to work as a team.

Our day of wrestling with upholstery fabric was punctuated with laughter over mistakes, lots of re-do’s, and a few staple-wounds. But there was serious talk too, as we lunched over Campbell’s tomato soup.

M and M upholsteringBy the end of that one day, we’d finished all 8 chairs. But the greater reward had been in getting to spend so many uninterrupted hours together. Doing the same job now hasn’t been satisfying at all, because of my strong longing to do it with Mary.

And that’s the most frustrating part of losing someone we love. The separation is complete and irrevocable. Though we know in our heads we can’t have even one extra minute with that person, we slip easily into fantasizing about how lovely it would be if we could. But reality always yanks us back and hits us with the words, “You can’t.”

I’ve had to work extra hard these last few days to listen to God’s advice about all this. And what he’s been whispering to me is, “I am your hope.”

He needed to tell me multiple times: “I will fill you with all kinds of joy as you look at Me. You’ll find yourself actually overflowing with hope, because of My Spirit’s power within you.” (Romans 15:13, loosely) After hearing it enough, I finally had to agree with him.

FriendsAs I’ve been hammering staples that refused to go all the way in, I’ve been thinking more than ever about life after death and the hope I have of spending not just one extra minute with Mary (and others) but of sharing unending time.

And I’ve learned that the hope God offers really does push out sadness. It also gives birth to gratitude – for a sister and for the Lord.

“The eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love.” (Psalm 33:18)

Newlywed Love (#102)

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September 26, 1970

(Continued….)

As two young men in a small car continued to follow me home from school, my fear grew. I tried to make sense of their tailgating, puzzling over what their intentions were and why they picked me.

Driving.Gut instinct told me I might be in some real trouble. Had they just randomly seen me as I turned onto the expressway ramp? Or had they watched me get into my car in the school parking lot? Did they know where I worked?

One thing was sure: I couldn’t lead them to where I lived. But where would I go?

Questions tumbled into my mind, distracting me from driving. I was in the left lane going 80 mph in a car that sounded like it was about to explode when their car came alongside on the right, both men glaring at me. I tried not to look, not to show fear.

When I was half way home, they swerved to my other side, coming up on the left. This was really dangerous, since they were then driving on the shoulder.

I wished with all my might a squad car would come out of nowhere with lights flashing to pull them over for reckless driving. When I saw a giant light pole coming in their path, I thought they were going to crash right into it! But they swerved back on the highway just in time.

Police carI had read that if something like this ever happened, a driver should cause a minor accident to force another car and a “normal” driver into the situation – and also bring the police.

But snatching glances at the cars around me, I knew if I caused a crash, it would be fatal. We were going too fast. My heart was in my throat, and I began to think about Nate. Oh how I wished he was with me! What sensible thing would he suggest?

Dark despair flooded me. “Oh God!” I shouted. “Please, please help me! I don’t know what to do!”

We continued on, and as we came within 10 miles of home, very suddenly these men pulled to the far right and zoomed off an exit ramp — and they were gone! I felt like wailing with relief but knew I had to hold myself together to get safely home.

As I got off the highway several miles later, I came to the first stop sign of my journey and went to downshift. That’s when I realized I’d driven 40 miles at high speed with the car in 2nd gear the whole way. No wonder it had resisted my push on the gas pedal and sounded so loud! Oh, how I hoped I hadn’t ruined the engine.

I pulled in front of our building and raced up the steps two at a time, bursting through the door and throwing myself into Nate’s arms – and the anguished wailing came out.

He held me tightly, waiting for me to calm down enough to tell him – and after I did, I stayed wrapped in that place of safety for a long, long time.

photo strip“They attacked me at a moment when I was in distress, but the Lord supported me. He led me to a place of safety.” (Psalm 18:18-19)