Category Archives: Hearing from God

A Fresh Look

Posted on by

This afternoon the slanted sunshine of winter spilled through our windows. While the rest of the country gathered chips and dips in preparation for the Bears-Packers game, I decided to do something different: paint a couple of stools in the bright sunlight. They’d been primed for six months awaiting their finishing coat, and today was as good a day as any.

Though I don’t have TV, I could have listened to the game on the radio but chose worship music instead. Following football might have been a better idea, however, because when Nate’s favorite hymn, “Blessed Assurance,” came on, I got weepy. Even bright sunlight doesn’t help watery eyes see brush strokes very well.

Bagging the brush and picking up a hymnal, I decided to follow the words as the familiar song played. “Visions of rapture now burst on my sight. I in my Savior am happy and blest. Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine!”

Although these words had run through Nate’s mind hundreds of times, their meaning for him now is completely different, more authentic, tangible. Something about that struck me. He was far away experiencing a life radically different than mine. We had much in common until 15 months ago, but now we share very little. Today I’m painting stools. What is he doing?

Sitting in front of me on the coffee table was the book my kids gave me in September, the story of Nate’s life in pictures and words. As precious old hymns played, I read through the book again, feeling intense sadness that Nate was gone. It’s been quite a while since I cried hard, but as I carefully studied his face, especially in the most recent pictures, holding back sobs was impossible.  

Oh to go back! I really miss him. Did I love him enough? Had I put him first? Could I have done more?

I… I… I.

It was self-pity for sure, which doesn’t do much for healing. If anything, it produces inertia. My crying was a good reason to ask God, “What would you like me to think right now?”

He answered with something he’d already told me. “Rejoice always. Pray continually. Give thanks in all circumstances.” (1 Thessalonians 5) I was thankful he brought that up again and gave me something positive to do immediately. Focusing back on the book, I continued weeping but this time found myself rejoicing in the picture-memories and being thankful for all Nate did as a husband and father.

When I came to the photo of Nate sitting in a wheelchair with severe pain on his face, I cried hard remembering his suffering but was enormously thankful for how courageously he bore his pain, a great accomplishment.

As the Bears and the Packers battled it out on the other side of Lake Michigan, the Lord and I sat together for two hours, listening to hymns, rejoicing, talking in prayer and remembering Nate with thankfulness.

Tomorrow, as the Bears nurse their wounds, I’ll finish painting the stools.

“My heart rejoices in the Lord! The Lord has made me strong. There is no Rock like our God.” (1 Samuel 2:1a,2b)

When charity knocks, open the door.

Posted on by

I owe my friend Connie a phone call. She left a voice mail yesterday, and I haven’t gotten back to her yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about her.

She and I have been friends for sixty-plus years, having grown up together at Moody Church. Among her many talents is being a fabulous cook. Since I’m not a very good one, I’ve always appreciated her ability in the kitchen and have gobbled up many a meal from her hands.

But one particular incident will always come to mind when I think of Connie. It involved food but no cooking, and it happened 16 years ago. On a frosty morning in 1994, she stepped through my kitchen door carrying two overloaded grocery bags.

 

Wiping the dishwater from my hands, I said, “What’s all this?”

“Never mind,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

I followed her outside, oblivious to the winter winds, questioning her as I went. “What’s going on?” But I stopped short when I saw eight more big brown bags lined up in her car.

“The Lord told me to do something,” she said, “and I’m just doing what I’ve been told. You’re getting your kitchen stocked.”

“Oh no,” I said. “You can’t do that!”

But she deflected my objections. “Don’t get in the way of a blessing.”

Our family had been struggling financially for several years, and for me as a stay-at-home mom of seven, panic was never far away. This day a couple of my cabinet shelves were completely empty, shelves that once couldn’t hold their bounty.

“What do you mean,” I said, “by the Lord telling you what to do?”

“In Bible study this week one verse mentioned helping those in need. I knew it was God’s message for me to help you. So don’t object. I’ve gone over your head and gotten special permission.”

My eyes filled and I threw my arms around this true friend. I hadn’t told her of my rising fear over the near-empty refrigerator or mentioned that our dinners had boiled down to a choice between pancakes and soup. Yet God had, through his Word, given Connie specific instructions. Best of all, she’d obeyed. Knowing her family was also on a strict budget, I appreciated her gifts even more.

It’s difficult to accept charity. Giving is much easier than receiving. As I stood in my replenished kitchen that afternoon feeling guilty for accepting Connie’s groceries, God reminded me that charity is just another word for love. Connie had demonstrated godly love, which humbled me and simultaneously lifted me up.

 

Later that same day my four year old (who had witnessed the food delivery) made a wise assessment of what had happened. “Your friend sure shares good, Mom.”

I had to agree. Connie had stocked our shelves, lifted my spirits, impacted a four year old, and gained another star in her heavenly crown. 

I think I’ll give her a call.

“Don’t forget to do good and to share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God.” (Hebrews 13:16)

Was it best?

Posted on by

Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and in a few minutes 2010 will tick its way into 2011. Horns will blow, cheers will ring out and kisses will be planted. In our temporarily-busy home, the little people are asleep, the older ones are out having fun, and I’ll be in a quiet place enjoying a one-on-one with the Lord. 

Recently Nelson and I chatted about favorite places, specifically comparing life in Michigan vs. Illinois. Both of us were born and raised in the Chicago metropolitan area, familiar with the suburbs and all they offer. Living now in a small town fairly far from everything has been a radical change. Nate and I moved to our summer cottage three months before learning of his fatal cancer, and six weeks after that, he was gone. We were barely unpacked.

The question everyone asked then was, “Will you be moving back to Illinois?” Actually it was more like a statement: “Surely you’ll be moving back.”

I answered in the negative, determined to pursue the plan Nate and I had designed from the start. But was it the best choice?

Since we moved, I sorely miss lifelong friendships, deep relationships begun in the 1970’s as we started raising families together. All of these women are 110 miles from me now, my sister included. I also miss women-friends who have a passion for prayer. Four women and I spent thousands of hours praying together over two decades, growing close through our shared love of spending time in God’s throne room.

And then there’s the church, actually two churches, the one I grew up in and the one we attended for the last 20 years. I miss the pastors and their preaching, the Sunday morning music and many fine friends.

I miss my neighbors and the deep camaraderie we developed as mothers raising our children who became fast friends. Between all of us and the windows in our homes, we could let the kids roam the neighborhood even as toddlers, and still keep an eye on them.

There are other losses, too: familiar roads, stores, merchants, doctors, routines in all categories. With such a long list of “I-misses”, why would I want to stay in Michigan?

Two reasons: quietness and isolation.

Spending time alone isn’t always negative for a new widow or anyone attempting to sort through a host of changes. Actually, it’s necessary.

God often waits for us to isolate ourselves from life’s bustle before he speaks. He has ideas, plans and comfort ready for us but won’t be just one of many waiting in line for our attention. At the Michigan cottage I’ve been able to hear him clearly and depend on him completely. Would that have happened had I moved back to Chicago?

I’ll never know for sure, but it would have definitely been easier to hide from the work of grief while meeting the commitments of a full calendar. God put me in Michigan exactly when he intended I be here.

And when we know where God wants us, it’s a good idea to stay there…. especially on New Year’s Eve.

“I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.” (2 Timothy 1:12)