Category Archives: Life’s disappointments

Red Gumballs

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Tonight I’m munching on brightly colored gumballs, and it has reminded me of an incident that happened 33 years ago. Our firstborn Nelson, four years old at the time, proved to be wise beyond his years.

Whenever we’d shop at the local grocery, the three kids tried to behave well, knowing if they did, there was a treat at the end of our errand. The store had a clear glass machine of mouth-watering gumballs near the exit. If we got there with our cart full of bagged groceries and three kids tantrum-free, it was gumballs all around.

Nelson always led the way with his dime. Before putting it into the slot, he’d tell the machine what color gumball he wanted. “I want a red one,” he’d order, in a demanding tone. Inevitably it was a different color, and though he’d made it through the store without a tantrum, right then it usually occurred.

“I said RED!” he’d holler, sometimes dropping to the floor in frustration and anger, occasionally kicking the machine.

This scene usually ended with me explaining to my raging, non-listening child that no one can control which gumball comes when. Then I’d say, “And since you don’t want this one, I’ll eat it.” The next time we’d approach the same machine, Nelson hadn’t learned a thing, always sure this time his command would be obeyed.

It was well over a year of never receiving his requested gum color that Nelson decided to let Lars, two years younger, approach the machine first. Stepping into his older brother’s shoes, Lars put in his money and instructed the machine about gumball color, just as he’d seen Nelson do. “I want green,” he said. When a white one came out, he started to cry and yell.

Nelson, standing by with his own dime ready, addressed his comment to Lars, but it held weight for me, too. In the voice of reason, this formerly frustrated child, now all of five years old, said, “You have to take what the gumball machine gives you.” After that day, no one made another request of the gumball machine, and everyone happily chewed the color they received.

This incident became part of our family folk lore. Nate told the story often, and whenever life took a negative turn, he’d quote Nelson. “Well, this isn’t the greatest situation in the world, but we have to take what the gumball machine gives us.” He even made that statement once in reference to his pancreatic cancer.

And that’s the thing about life. Much of it is handed to us without our permission and is contrary to our wishes. Just as Nelson wanted a red gumball, we want unblemished health, a secure fortune, contented relationships and personal freedom. Inevitably one (and sometimes all) of those categories become “discolored”.

Nelson once suggested we find a gumball machine with only red ones in it so his dime would produce what he wanted every time. Interestingly, our lives would be devoid of growth if the experiences coming to us were all the same hue. It’s by way of receiving the “wrong colors” that we make progress.

The reality of the situation is that God does have control of what comes to us, whether its a gumball color or a life experience, and he wants to teach us that every “color” has significant flavor. But be prepared for anything, because once in a while he’ll send us a “red gumball.”

“I [Paul the Apostle] have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:12-13)

Hold on.

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Nate would be appalled. Without realizing it, I’ve been running around without any health insurance. I went over the handlebars on my bike without insurance and spent six hours in the emergency room without insurance. I had a full head scan and 21 x-rays without insurance and today at my annual ob-gyn appointment, the woman at the desk said, “Did you know you don’t have insurance?”

After telling her that wasn’t possible, she mentioned my insurance company was going out of business. I knew that. Two months ago I’d signed up for a new plan with a new company (which translated to several hours of being “on hold”) and pulled the new insurance card from my purse to prove it.

But after 30 minutes staring at her computer while she brought up my accounts with both insurance companies, we concluded she was right. I was wrong. Apparently there was a three week gap between the end of one and the beginning of the other.

Oh how I miss Nate! He would never have let this happen. Although I’d asked what seemed like hundreds of questions in the process of terminating the old insurance and setting up the new (with additional “hold time” while waiting for the answers), apparently I hadn’t asked the one question that could have saved me from the mess I’m in, which was, “When does it start?”

Today I’d driven from Michigan to see the doctor but heard the lady behind the desk say, “If you keep your appointment today, you’ll have to pay for everything yourself, which we call self-pay.”

Since I’d waited three months to get in and needed a new prescription to combat osteoporosis, I nodded and said, “OK.”

The doctor, who has become like a friend after many years, spent 45 minutes with me, taking time to ask questions about Nate and all that’s happened. I left her office with a fist full of prescriptions (mammogram, colonoscopy, bone density test, Fosamax) and in my usual daze, walked right past the girl at the desk and straight out the door. On my mind was whether or not Jack had gotten hot while waiting in the car for two hours. (He was OK.)

An hour later, just as my car was driving over the Michigan state line, my cell phone rang with the doctor’s office on the caller ID. “Did you walk out without paying after you said you would?” the girl at the desk asked. “I’ll take your credit card number right now.”

I’m learning the hard way, and tomorrow will most likely be another day spent “on hold” as I try to talk to both insurance companies and my insurance man. Hopefully, after enough time “holding on,” I’ll be able to unravel the confusion.

By now I’m used to the fact that as a new widow, my part time job is listening to “musak” and hearing a phone robot tell me my call is important to her.

But never mind. I’ve got a Bluetooth, a skein of yarn and two eager knitting needles to make all that “hold time” worthwhile.

“The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride. Do not be quickly provoked in your spirit, for anger resides in the lap of fools.” (Ecclesiastes 7:8-9)

Triumph in the End

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When I was a student at Wheaton College, President Edman had a favorite phrase with which he peppered his chapel messages and everyday conversation: “Not somehow, but triumphantly.”

As my family and I pace through these weeks without Nate, those words often come to my mind. I want to be about “getting through this” not just by the skin of my teeth but triumphantly. The opposite of that would be to get stuck where we are now, which would wear us out until eventually sadness would become the dictator of every day. For me, a triumph in this situation is not a fist-in-the-air-leaping kind of victory but a quiet confidence in God’s goodness. Some ask, “How in the world can God be good if he snatches a husband/father/grandfather without warning in only 42 days?”

I do hope the answer to that question will be evident in my life and in the lives of our kids.

At the end of this (and I do believe there will be an eventual end to our time of upset and mourning), I want to look back and say that although the cancer itself wasn’t good, God was. I want to testify, “What the Lord did in each of our lives turned out to be overwhelmingly positive,” with Nate at the head of that list.

I’m about to say something that might make people bristle. It may sound unrealistic and idealistic, but I believe it wholeheartedly. A year or so from now, if we stay close to God in prayer and hang on to the promises of Scripture, I believe each of us will be better off than we were before Nate died. To put it a different way, I think if we continue grieving while placing our trust in God, we will have experienced an increase in: hope for our futures, sympathy for the pain of others, gratitude for daily blessings and confidence that God’s way of doing things is always superior to ours…. increases in all of those. I don’t fully understand how this works, but because it’s in Scripture, I believe it.

Of course typing words on a keyboard is easy compared to living them. My resolve to live triumphantly melts when I see Nate’s cane standing in the corner or find one of his handkerchiefs static-clinging inside a pillow case in the linen closet. I can break down at seeing a New York Times or finding a stray Post-it note with his writing on it.

My widow warriors tell me the wound from losing Nate will heal but will leave an emotional scar. Scars change us to a certain extent but once healed, no longer hurt. That’s what I’m expecting. Eventually I’ll be able to see his cane or the New York Times with a flash of memory but not of pain.

So how to I handle Nate’s death “not somehow but triumphantly”? I think the answer lies in truly believing that God is doing his behind-the-scenes work in all of us right now and also in our being willing to wait patiently until it’s visible.

Dr. Edman also said, “Never doubt in the dark what God has taught you in the light.” Because the Lord has promised that Nate’s death will result in good (Romans 8:28), I want to run from doubting that it won’t. Even though tears still fall and the wound still hurts, I want to keep on believing the promise, because it was God who said it.

“Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.” (Psalm 126:5-6)

“My soul waits for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning.” (Psalm 130:6)