Thankful for what was lost

Posted on November 24, 2009 by Margaret

We’ve all heard the old adage, “We don’t appreciate what we have until we’ve lost it.” In losing Nate, it wasn’t quite like that for me.

Back in 1991, Nate and I were “under the gun.” His real estate investment firm which had been doing exceptionally well had gone under, thanks to a governmental law change lawmakers promised they wouldn’t make but did. We had seven children under our roof then. Among them was an extremely strong-willed pre-schooler and a teen in full rebellion with police issues and court room drama.

The other children all needed attention, too, and our dinner table included ages 18, 16, 14, 10, 9, 3 and 1. Money was extremely tight (think stranglehold) and tensions ran high. I wasn’t understanding Nate’s pressures, and he wasn’t understanding mine. It wasn’t that we were fighting. We just tried to avoid each other, a recipe for marriage disaster.

I grew nervous about what might happen in our relationship but not enough to humble myself and reach out. I did wonder if we might be going over the brink, which terrified me. Being a stay-at-home mom with seven dependent children, I knew I had to do something. I decided I’d try to look on the bright side, and since everything around me looked dark, I’d have to look back to a time when things had been better. 00000052

I thought about when I’d followed Nate around like a puppy dog and loved every minute with him. I had old journals to prove it, in which I’d written at length about my endless infatuation. So, one middle-of-the-night when I was up feeding the baby, I decided to make a list of every positive quality Nate had. I wrote an upbeat title on top: “Nate My Mate, a Great Date.” I didn’t feel happy as I approached the task, but in my heart I knew I didn’t want my marriage to fall apart, as difficult as it was.

I started with some bare-minimums and thought I’d only be able to think of five or six good things. Once I got started, though, an amazing thing happened. The list grew.

Here it is, now 18 years old:

nice teeth
blond hair
good looking
intelligent
a good list-maker
confident at work
remembers to do what he said he would do
organized
good physical stamina
physically coordinated
willing to lead
willing to study the Bible
willing to discuss any topic with me
flawless honesty
studies each child
interested in each child as an individual
willing to help with homework
knows everything about academic subjects
great memory of facts, history and family history, remembers names
good decision-making ability
not put off by hard office work
doesn’t need much sleep
desires to be a good husband and father
is sensitive to my requests of him, does them first
great sex partner
doesn’t give up when discouraged
sets high goals
puts me on a pedestal
generous with money, doesn’t spend on self
courteous, with good manners
interesting conversationalist
makes friends easily
wants to provide for our family

After I made the list, I felt terrible about my selfish attitude. On paper, Nate was a great catch, and I wanted to get back to those brighter times. It was two more edgy years before we decided to start counseling and an additional eight months before we felt our marriage had been healed of the wounds we’d caused each other.

As we approach our first Thanksgiving without Nate, I could never be thankful for the wretched cancer that took him away, but I can definitely be thankful for the 40 years we had together without the cancer. He and I came to appreciate each other anew 18 years ago, and it started with a middle-of-the-night list. As a result, I’m grateful this Thanksgiving that I’m not saying, “I didn’t appreciate who I had until I lost him.”

“Don’t let anyone capture you with empty philosophies and high-sounding nonsense that come from human thinking and from the spiritual powers of this world, rather than from Christ. Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.” (Colossians 2:8,7)

Seeing the Future

Posted on November 19, 2009 by Margaret

Most people want to know what’s in their future. Some pay fortune tellers to find out. Others read palms, tea leaves and crystal balls. But is it a good thing to know?

As Nate and I moved to Michigan in June, we had no idea what was coming in September, the month we got his cancer diagnosis. Even in September, we had no idea he’d be leaving for heaven by early November. Today, I have no knowledge of what’s going to happen tomorrow.

How would Nate and I have done things differently, had we known there would be only 42 days from his diagnosis to his death? Would we have rushed off to do some fun things before he was too infirm to want that? Would we have invited a string of friends to visit before he was unable to tolerate the stress of company? Would we have eaten more chocolate? Fixed lobster for dinner? Visited Europe? Maybe, but probably not.

Nate eading cards, small

What if Van’s Medical Supply had pulled their truck up to our door and unloaded all 21 pieces of hospital-type equipment at once? We would have had a major look into our future, and it wouldn’t have been good. I am thankful we didn’t know. Taking health steps downward one at a time was better than leaping down the whole staircase at once.

Another fact I was glad I didn’t know ahead of time was that I would have to keep track of 38 different bottles of medicine along with their dose amounts and times to give them. I’d have said, “If that’s my future, I can’t handle it.” But as the prescriptions increased, my ability to manage them increased, too, beyond my natural ability. God was one step ahead of me, equipping me to meet the need.

I didn’t worry about it beforehand, because I didn’t know it was coming. Now, with Nate gone and his medicines too, the old me, the ditz who can’t do numbers, is back. Balancing my checkbook is hard again, and I look back in wonder at how God prepared me for that numbers task that once was in my future and now is in my past.

How about my life as a widow? Would I want to know ahead of time exactly how that’s going to go? Only an idiot would say “yes” to that. I know there will be challenges greater than I’ve yet experienced in 64 years but don’t know what they’ll be. Not knowing, I don’t have to worry or fret.

The beautiful thing about God caring for me is that he’ll ready me for the tough stuff that’s coming before it gets here. I picture him walking ahead with a big machete, slashing away every obstacle in my path before I get there. I’ll be able to put one foot in front of the other without falling because of his provision for my future.

Some may desire to know what their “fates” will be. Not me. I’d rather claim “the full-circle verses,” the ones that describe how God is literally all around me and my future. After that, it’s easy to leave everything up to him:

“The Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:12)

“As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, from this time forth and forever.” (Psalm 125:2)

“The Lord will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you may seek refuge.” (Psalm 91:4)

“The Lord is the one who goes ahead of you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:8)

“You have enclosed me behind and before, and laid your hand upon me.” (Psalm 139:5)

When death is coming

Posted on November 18, 2009 by Margaret

Death is coming to all of us. “It is appointed for man to die once” is a quote from Scripture (Hebrews 9:27), and every one of us will eventually succumb to something. To be aware of death’s timetable is to receive a gift, even though at the time it seems more like a curse.

When we know ahead of time, we have the chance to say loving words to the one who will be leaving us. We can also right wrongs. Although it doesn’t come easily to blame ourselves for anything, when a loved one is dying, we can quickly self-judge and desire to make things right.

This burst of good conscience and the apologies it prompts can be positive, but I believe it does more for the one seeking to make things right than the one who is dying. Coming to the death bed of someone we love with a list of “I’m sorry for this and sorry for that” can actually be selfish. We want to absolve ourselves of guilt. But to the one who is dying, such “dumping” might be overwhelming or even seem like too little too late.

During that first night after Nate and I learned he was infected with a rapidly growing stage 4 cancer, my mind flooded with regret. As he slept next to me in the deep fatigue of fatal disease, I lay in bed quietly weeping. Having always wanted to tweak this or that about him, I suddenly felt like a terrible wife. After nearly 40 years of marriage, I should have been long past such shallow thinking and far deeper into practicing unconditional love. Even focusing on myself that first night instead of on him was an indication of my selfishness. Nevertheless, I wanted to right all wrongs a.s.a.p.

When morning came, though, I saw the foolishness of listing my regrets to Nate. What could he say but, “Oh, that’s OK.” It was like fishing for a compliment. The only effective remedy would be to determine, from that moment on, to be the best wife I could be for as much time as we had left together.

I prayed God would control my thinking as Nate and I embarked on what we thought would be a six month journey. “What should I do about all my regrets, Lord?” I asked.

And God answered me. “Be to Nate what I created all wives to be: a helper. If you do that, you’ll please him and also me.” I didn’t have to be a perfect wife, just a helpful one. It was a massive relief, because I knew I could do that.

Beginning that day and every day thereafter, I looked for helping moments. If Nate was struggling to pick up something, I’d step forward with, “Let me help you with that.” (Easy.) If he didn’t have a drink next to his lazy-boy, I went for ice water. (Easy.) If he had trouble getting his shoes on, I kneeled to wiggle them on and tie my “magic bow.” (Easy.) If he was craving spaghetti for dinner, I aborted other plans and made spaghetti. (Easy.)

I don’t list these things to prove I was wonderful. I list them to show how easy God made it for me to finish our marriage without regrets. When doubt snuck in during the night telling me I wouldn’t be able to handle Nate’s increasing needs, I cried out to God, “I don’t think I can do this!”

He gently reminded me, “Remember, all you have to do is help him,” and I would calm down.

birthday cake smaller When it was all over, I had no regrets about my behavior during the six weeks of Nate’s illness. Simply being a helper was all that was required. Why couldn’t I have been a helper and only a helper (not a manipulator or a controller), throughout the 40 years we spent together? God’s way is always the better way.