Dear Nate,

Posted on August 19, 2012 by Margaret

Yesterday was your birthday, or at least it would have been, had you lived. You died a few weeks after we turned 64 (ten days apart), and this year I turned 67 without you.

Remember how we always celebrated together? The kids would plan a “double-whammy” party, complete with a treasure hunt for our gifts. Their enthusiasm rubbed off on us, and before we knew it we were playing all their silly games with gusto.

The birthday cakes they concocted tasted pretty good coming from such young bakers, but of course even earthly angel food cake could never match whatever heavenly food you’re enjoying now. Maybe you don’t have to eat at all, but my bet is you’re partaking of all kinds of delectable goodies.

Since you left us, life has changed considerably for our family. Four new grandchildren have been added, with another due 8 weeks from today. I wonder what you’d think about Birgitta’s unplanned baby. Although we’re predicting a mix of happiness and struggle, you probably see it differently. Since you live free of calendar dictatorship and the bondage of the clock, maybe you’ve already met this 7^th grandchild. While we wait, you may know.

I think often about you, sometimes every hour, always wondering what you’re doing. This morning I was remembering Jesus’ departure from earth to heaven, relating to the disappointment of the disciples who loved him so much. He said, “You can’t go where I’m going,” and they must have been miserable, wondering how they were going to live without him.

I know just how they felt.

When you left the earth, I couldn’t accompany you either. But Jesus encouraged his disappointed disciples by saying, “If you loved me, you would be glad that I am going to the Father.” (John 14:28) As unhappy as I was when you first left, I can now genuinely say, “Because I love you, I’m glad you’ve gone to the Father.” Besides, my turn will come, just as it did for all the disciples.

You probably know that these days I’m not blogging about you nearly as much on my web site. Sometimes I feel funny about that, but it’s happening because my heart is feeling much better. I rarely think about your cancer anymore but dwell more on our good times together. Paging through old photo albums this week has made me appreciate you more than ever, and I wish I had thanked you more often, when I had the chance.

I’m glad I can write this letter while thinking about you and your special day, August 18. Although you’ll never again go on a treasure hunt for your presents, surely that doesn’t matter now. These days every minute of every day is found-treasure for you.

“I will give you hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord.” (Isaiah 45:3)

I’m sure.

Posted on August 2, 2012 by Margaret

Dad and Mom lived in four homes during 50 years of marriage: a newlywed bungalow, their bring-the-babies-home house, their larger place, and a downsized-ranch. Mom loved being a homemaker, and when Dad (13 years her senior) suggested a retirement community, she wouldn’t hear of it.

Later, when he died after only two weeks warning, Mom clung to their home like it was Dad himself. Being without him was heartbreaking, but it focused her attention on life after death like never before.

She told us about the night she was out watering her garden near midnight when she heard footsteps approaching. “Were you afraid?” I said.

“Actually I was hoping he had a gun and would do me in,” she said. “Then I’d get to be with your father.” She was only half joking.

Not long after that, Mom fell and broke her hip badly, requiring surgery. She had great confidence in the doctor, a family friend, but was secretly hoping the O.R. would be her launch pad to heaven. But the surgery went flawlessly, and Mary was there to tell her about it when she came out of the anesthetic.

Still groggy, Mom’s first word was, “Carl?”

“No,” Mary said. “It’s just me.”

Mom pulled the covers over her head and burst into tears, realizing she hadn’t ended up in heaven after all. Days later, well on the way to a full recovery she said, “I gave God a perfect chance to take me, and he passed it up.” (She lived 13 more years.)

Mom’s push toward heaven seemed extreme, but I admire two things about it: (1) her true love for Dad came through, and (2) her certainty of heaven was unshakeable. Day to day, hour to hour, a real heaven was on her mind, a specific place where her beloved had already gone.

Mom’s desire to be with Dad wasn’t her only heaven-themed longing. Her deepest craving was to run into the waiting arms of Jesus her Savior. She referenced that moment often and never doubted its authenticity. In 60 years as her daughter, I never heard a smidgen of uncertainty in her talk of one day living with Jesus.

Sometimes I find myself a little unsure. It isn’t exactly doubt, but it’s a serious wondering. How will it work when I move to the next world? The greeting we’ve heard some will get at heaven’s gate (well-done-good-and-faithful-servant) won’t apply to me. I love the Lord, but faithful servant? Not really. So, what are the other greeting possibilities? I wonder.

And what about the rush of guilt I’ll feel when I look into Jesus’ eyes? Or the regret that’ll sweep over me about my disobedience? What about my idle words? Time wasted? Bypassed opportunities? I wonder and wonder. How can it possibly go well?

But Mom? She never wondered. She was just plain sure, and that was delightfully refreshing.

“You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.” (Psalm 73:24)

Too big or too small?

Posted on July 12, 2012 by Margaret

Every parent knows that excursions with young children are sometimes more haphazard than happy, and a trip to the beach can be especially intense. Not only do they have to slather everyone with sun cream, they have to pack up food, drinks, toys, towels, and shade.

For the last 10 days we’ve had fun with 3 generations bunking at my house. Daily we trudged across red-hot beach sand to the cool waters of Lake Michigan toting armloads of fun-promising equipment. But along with all the entertainment was one item parents of beach-bound babies don’t want to forget: a sun hat.

Our 4 month old Autumn has very little hair to protect her “dome”, so the safest place for her is under the shade of a hat or an umbrella. But when Linnea and Adam were packing, they couldn’t find the hat that would fit, so they grabbed Skylar’s old one.

But Autumn had issues with “one size fits all.”

At times we all have trouble with that concept, especially when we examine our spiritual lives. The things God has told us don’t always seem to fit right, and we’re tempted to tweak them… just a little. Without making a few modifications, following him seems too big a job. The Bible is too big a book to understand, and God’s list of rules is too long to obey. Faith is too iffy to trust, and grace is too simple to accept.

But God says, “Don’t tweak anything. One-size-fits-all.”

The Gospel of Christ Jesus is a life-plan offered to every one of us, and it’s the same Gospel he has presented to all generations. No individual is excluded, and those who receive salvation as he gives it will end up in heaven. It’s a really good deal, and he designed it to “fit” everyone, just as it is.

Problems come when we begin altering the details for a better fit. Some people say, “I like a point system rather than salvation as a gift, so I’m going to earn my way to heaven. Good deeds are always good.”

Others say, “The whole thing about Jesus dying on the cross is morbid and difficult to accept. I’m holding out for answers to each of my questions. Once I have those, I’ll buy into God’s plan.”

Still others might say, “The idea of heaven sounds good, but being religious now with all the no-no’s and restrictions seems like overkill. When I’m old, I’ll take another look at it.”

These and other approaches are much like a seamstress who over-alters an outfit until it doesn’t fit at all. When God says one-size-fits-all, the only right response is to put salvation on, exactly as he designed it.