The Great Unknown

Posted on May 11, 2014 by Margaret

Chemo is bearing down on Mary. Tomorrow afternoon she’ll line up with other chemo patients for her first infusion, and she’s nervous. Who wouldn’t be? But chemotherapy can be surprising. Some people are only mildly affected while others are laid low. For Mary, it’s still the great unknown.

Like most of life’s question marks, though, she’ll get the answers shortly. She doesn’t necessarily want to, but she will. So many parts of life follow that pattern: questions without answers, and then like it or not, the answers come.

Take childbirth, for instance. All of us wondered how bad it would be. Was it like Hollywood depicted, with sudden onset and scream-worthy pain? Or was it just hard work we could handle without drama? Eventually most of us found out it’s somewhere between those two extremes.

Another example might be going off to college. We weren’t sure what awaited us, knowing classes would be rigorous but hoping it wouldn’t be all work and no play. For most, it fell somewhere in between.

Mary’s chemo will probably be the same, landing in the middle between extremes. Though she may experience some side effects, she and all of us will pray they won’t be debilitating.

Today while listening to an online church service, I sang along with the congregation, “When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing it will be!” When Mary sings songs like these, I’m sure her perspective now is far different than it was 2 months ago. Starting chemotherapy serves as a reminder she isn’t the same person she was back then, but isn’t that true for all of us? Day to day we’re changing, and as Mary marches into her great unknown, the rest of us are marching, too, reorienting our perspectives as we go, just as she is.

Tonight Mary said, “Tomorrow we go into this new experience hour-by-hour. And if it needs to be minute-by-minute, then we’ll do it like that.” She’s feeling the presence of her co-marchers through their prayers, marveling at the strength they’re giving her. Of course that strength comes not so much from people as from God’s answers to what people are praying.

One thing Mary knows for sure about her great unknown: those answers will continue for as long as she has needs, measured out perfectly day-by-day… hour-by-hour… or, if need be, minute-by-minute.

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart.” (Psalm 73:26)

Praising and Praying with Mary

Praise for a very busy week full of blessing from family and friends
Praise for heartfelt Mothers Day notes from all her children
Pray for few side effects, especially no nausea
Pray for the stamina needed to plan a September wedding

Panic Over Pittsburgh

Posted on January 27, 2014 by Margaret

Most people can count on one hand the moments in their lives when they’ve been terrified, heart-pounding scared, rushed with adrenalin. For me, one of them occurred last weekend.

I was flying home after two exciting weeks in Florida with my daughter’s newly expanded family of six.

Though I usually buy non-stop plane tickets, this time the route from Orlando to Chicago included a stop in Pittsburgh. I’d taken time to check Chicago’s wacky weather (not bad at 19 degrees and sunny) but hadn’t checked Pittsburgh.

After an uneventful flight north, our plane began its descent over Pennsylvania and suddenly hit a few rough bumps. The captain came on the intercom, telling us to be sure we were buckled in. “We’re coming into some choppy air,” he said in a calm voice, “and want you to stay safe. By the way, it’s snowing in Pittsburgh at minus-4 degrees.”

Then he instructed the flight attendants to buckle up, too, which seemed well ahead of their usual last-minute sit-downs. “Yes,” the head stewardess said, “tighten your belts. The captain wants to try something new.”

We laughed at her joke, but the plane’s rocking and creaking continued to escalate. Outside our windows we were wrapped in threatening black clouds, despite it being noontime. I tried to read, but my book wouldn’t hold still, bouncing up and down with force.

As we got closer to the ground, the lurching became more pronounced, and our captain came on again. “Ok, folks,” he said, still talking smoothly, “let’s double-check those seat belts. Pull your straps tight, low on the hips. We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”

I hoped on a runway.

As the plane shuddered violently and jerked every-which-way, I wondered how much more it could take before a wing would snap. Normally I loved take-offs and landings, but this time I found myself replaying the last thing I’d said to each of my children.

“This might be it!” I thought, adrenalin surging.

Staccato reflections darted in and out of my head as my heart pounded. “What a shame for our kids to lose their dad and mom so close together. I hope they know how much I love them.”

Suddenly we got a glimpse of the ground, and it seemed shockingly close. “Jesus, here I come!”

The flashing lights at the end of the runway shot beneath us and then boom-BOOM! Our wheels slammed down on a snow- covered runway just a few feet after the pavement began. “Wow!” I thought. “He barely got there!”

Billowing walls of snow surrounded us like a monster wake behind a high speed boat, and we zoomed all the way to the other end of the runway before he could rein in his speed. Passengers applauded, and the flight attendant said, “Welcome to Pittsburgh!”

As my insides began to calm, I thought about a statement Mom frequently made: “Be sure you know your bottom line.”

“Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” (Romans 10:13)

Waiting Patiently?

Posted on November 3, 2013 by Margaret

One of my favorite family photos is this one of Klaus and Hans, our children #4 and #5. We were on a family trip to Florida in 1985 when these two little guys, ages 3 and 4, were demonstrating patience. They were waiting for the perfect wave to lift their mini- surfboards off the sand and take them on a smooth, danger-free ride atop the ocean. They’d done everything they knew to do and were waiting for the water to do what they could not.

It’s a perfect picture of faith. We wait; God acts.

Today is the 4^th anniversary of Nate’s death. Although I don’t know if he’s marking time the way we are, sometimes I get impatient to find out. Whether he’s looking forward to our reunion or not, there are days I long for it with everything in me, just like the boys longed to ride an ocean wave. It’s not that I have a death wish; life holds many good reasons to go on living. I’d just like to be with him again.

My children don’t like it when I talk about joining their father, but my desire isn’t to leave them. It’s that we all leave. In other words, my longing is for Jesus to come and scoop us up for an exit from this world and an entrance into the next. And it’s difficult to be patient.

No matter how hard any of us wishes for that day, however, we can’t hurry it along any more than a gardener can force a seedling to sprout. These things are up to God.

Today a handful of my children and I talked about their father at lunchtime. Their spoken memories of him were like gifts to me, and we shared our feelings about this anniversary day. Talking about how difficult it was to be in Nate’s presence when he died didn’t make us regret being there. It was deeply meaningful to experience those holy moments as a family, expressing love to the one who was dying as well as to each other.

My Spurgeon daily devotional book has a simple note written on this day, November 3^rd. It says, “Nate died today,” a bare-bones statement of fact. Maybe I should have written, “Nate went to heaven today,” or something more positive. But when he died, my heart was so swamped with loss, those were the only words I could come up with.

That November 3^rd devotional happens to be about waiting for God’s timing. Spurgeon wrote, “We are in a hurry, but God’s time is the best time.” The last paragraph is a note to himself: ”Come, my soul, canst thou not wait for thy God? Rest in him, and be still in unutterable peacefulness.”

My little boys waited peacefully at the shoreline, hoping for the best, and since I can’t do anything to hasten my reunion with Nate, I can only do the same.