Just an Ounce

Benjamin Franklin is credited with the maxim, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” Wanting to follow this logic, yesterday I went to Walgreens and got a flu shot.

I grew up in a home where both parents believed a little illness gave the body a chance to exercise its disease-fighting mechanism, and conquering the flu was evidence all systems were working. We weren’t taken to a doctor unless we needed stitches or surgery, and if we had a fever, we weren’t encouraged to take aspirin. “A fever is just your body letting the sickness out,” Mom would say.

That philosophy is probably why I figured flu shots were only for those who loved medicine and doctors offices. I’d been sick so few times I couldn’t even remember having a cold. That is, until Christmas, 2010.

Our whole family was scheduled to come to Michigan from Florida, England, Hawaii, Iowa, and Chicago. Christmas of 2009 had been sad and somber, since we were still reeling over Nate’s death a few weeks earlier. When I look at the family photo taken a year later in 2010, I see a group that had survived the worst part of grieving. But I also see a whole bunch of people who had just finished enduring something else: two holiday weeks of shared diseases.

The Christmas season we’d hoped would be joyful included fevers, vomiting, diarrhea, headaches, and lots of crankiness. Not one of us had escaped. And several days after that picture, as I stood on the front porch waving off the last of them, I made a decision to join the ranks of flu shot consumers.

An ounce of prevention is always better than mopping up afterwards, but of course this principle doesn’t just apply to diseases. If we fudge on our income taxes, for example, the end result is a fine many times greater than the original tax bill. If we tell one lie, we might have to tell 15 more to support that first one. On paper we know these things. Applying them is something else.

And what about spiritual ounces of prevention? How do we prevent ourselves from, for instance, falling into temptation? An ounce of that kind of prevention might mean finding an accountability partner. It might mean making sure the things that tempt us have been cleaned out of our homes. Maybe it’s appropriate Scriptures written on cards, or a list of 3 practical steps to take during times of weakness.

Hebrews 11 tells us that many of the Old Testament saints “were made strong out of weakness.” (v. 34) And how did that happen? God strengthened their faith, one preventative ounce at a time. He’s the same God today, offering the same ounces to any of us who are willing to work at preventing sin.

I guess compared to that, getting a flu shot is a piece of Christmas cake. Ben Franklin, my sore shoulder thanks you.

“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (Matthew 26:41)

Reach for it!

When our Nelson was a toddler, he loved to climb. Finding contentment with toys and books at his own eye level was never good enough, and his goal was always to move higher. During his climbing phase I struggled to keep track of him while managing newborn Lars and would often round a corner to find him in high places: on the kitchen counter, atop his dresser, on the highest stair outside the railing.

For Nelson, everything he wanted most was out of reach. More accurately, whatever was out of reach was what he wanted most.

I remember watching his face turn upward, eyes scanning a high shelf or cabinet, and saying to him, “Nelson, there’s nothing up there for you. Why don’t we find your colored blocks?” (Or bouncy-ball. Or fire truck.) But nothing he could see fascinated him like the things he couldn’t.

Many of us who are non-toddlers are exactly that way. Just knowing something is out of reach can be reason enough to go after it. But isn’t perseverance and resolve frequently promoted in the Bible as good things?

Not always. It depends on the object of our pursuit, and God gives us a list. He tells us to go after godliness, kindness, peace, love, faith, single-mindedness, gentleness, righteousness… and to go after him.

Reaching for things not on this list might end the way most of Nelson’s climb-and-find projects did: a crash, a mess, and a reprimand. He usually ended up buried, bumped, or bleeding, and most often was disappointed when what he “just had to have” turned out to be a whopping disappointment.

Oftentimes God puts things out of our reach on purpose and for good reasons. He might be trying to save us from harm. Maybe it’s simply a not-yet thing being withheld to develop our patience. He might be holding something high so he can give us something else that’s even better than what we’re currently reaching for.

None of us likes to be told “stop” or “no.” Nelson certainly didn’t. If I aborted one of his climbing pursuits, he’d react by kicking his feet and howling with objections. Though adults aren’t as outwardly demonstrative, we usually do the same thing in our hearts.

God encourages us to reach for the things on his list, and once we commit to pursuing what he wants us to pursue, he gives his blessing for us to climb as high as we want to get it. And because we’re going after the things he’s endorsed, we can be sure that in the end there will be no crashes, messes, or reprimands.

“Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith.” (1 Timothy 6:11-12)

Hey Mom: from Nelson

Although our family is more than a week past the anniversary of Nate’s death, our children continue to share how they’re coping now, 3 years later. The 7 of them range in age from 22 to 39 and thus are all adults, but they’ll always be their Papa’s children.

We widows (and widowers) sometimes become so focused on managing our own seismic changes that we might forget to ask family members how they’re doing, too. Perhaps thoughts from my grown children can encourage other families who are also working to stay close as a group, despite having lost one parent.

Nate’s and my firstborn, Nelson, is currently far from home in Armenia, where he works full time with a global mission organization, Youth With A Mission. Distance on the globe, however, doesn’t translate to distance of heart:

Hey Mom,

I thought about Papa and you, of course, when we crossed over the Nov. 3 anniversary of his death. I have talked before about how that was the time I re-entered missions with YWAM [Youth With A Mission] with my team. It was a totally unique time.

Seeing the pic of him on your blog this morning really made me miss him. Interestingly, I was struck with regret about how I was as a teenager and beyond, and how I wish our relationship had been “more.” Whatever that means, I don’t know. Maybe it just means that I miss him, and it’s easier to beat yourself up for the past than it is to move on in a healthy way.

Here in Armenia, I hear Russian spoken all the time, and it reminds me of Papa. I still can’t believe he could speak it.

You have demonstrated the right way to move on to all of us and so many others. There is an American guy here who works at the US embassy, who did a DTS a while back. [Discipleship Training School with YWAM]  He lost his mother a month ago, and they were really close. He wanted to hear from me about losing a parent, so he took me to a fancy French restaurant the other night, and we “debriefed” a little about it.

God is faithful to use all our experiences for his glory.

Love,
Nel

Our God is a global God, yet he’s also focused on the details of our lives and is “faithful to use all our experiences for his glory.” That includes widowhood and losing a father, as well as youthful mistakes with their consequences, and every other “wish-I-hadn’t” from our pasts. Our heavenly Father is in the business of redeeming our mess-ups by restructuring them as set-ups for positive purposes in the lives of others. Although the devil hopes to immobilize us with ropes of regret, God is always way ahead of him, taking our spiritual lemons and making divine lemonade.

Thank you, Nelson, for your love across the miles and your insightful reminder today.

“Godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted.” (2 Corinthians 7:10)