Category Archives: Long Marriages

Playing Games

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The death of a spouse prompts so many changes and so much confusion that life can resemble the old group game “Fruit Basket Upset.” The game proceeds in a gently rambunctious manner until someone calls out, “Fruit basket upset!” At that, every person in the circle of chairs has to leap out of their seat and try to find a different chair before there are none left unoccupied.

The death of a family member is much like that, especially in the case of a spouse/parent. During a marriage, life bops along with lots going on, husband, wife and family members running here and there, meeting commitments and following to-do lists. Then suddenly the husband/father dies and it’s like the crash of “fruits” in the middle of the circle, people feeling shoved and pushed in their attempts to scramble to a “new chair.” In “Fruit Basket Upset,” this kind of chaos is fun. In life, not so much.

This morning after waking up and staring at the ceiling for a while, I got up and turned around to make the bed. Then it occurred to me that it didn’t really matter whether I made it or not. Who would care? No one was going to see it but me.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, fighting the temptation to lie back down. The first thing that popped into my head was a picture of Nate turning down his side of the bed at night time, just before climbing in. It was a good moment of every day, no matter what had happened between leaving the bed early in the morning and returning to it later that night. And he loved the idea of pulling back the covers. It was as if everything had been properly prepared for this appealing moment.

Now, of course, things are different. He won’t be turning back the covers, and I didn’t really care if the bed was made or not. Climbing into bed used to be an “ahhh” moment of relaxation and peace. Now it’s a time when the world has gone dark, the night stretches long and I miss Nate being where he always used to be. It feels like I’m in the middle of a “Fruit Basket” circle after all the places have been taken, wondering where to turn next and what steps to take.

Although we’re left without our usual, familiar places in life, none of us has really lost the game. We haven’t been eliminated as a chair-less game player would be from “Fruit Basket Upset.” It’s just that Nate’s death has necessitated writing new rules of play, and we’re trying to walk away from the “upset” part. We’d rather play a different game anyway… like, say, “Candyland”.

“Candyland” has greater appeal than “Fruit Basket Upset.” It’s a peaceful game that leaves strategy up to the game-makers rather than the game players. And the truth is, Nate has actually won it already. He’s by-passed the negatives of Molasses Swamp and Cherry Pitfall, not just to reach Candyland’s Home Sweet Home but to arrive at a whole new kingdom where the sweetest home imaginable awaited him. And there aren’t any beds to make either, because there is no night there.

As a matter of fact, this new home is “delicious” in every way, surpassing Gumdrop Mountain and Lollipop Woods by such a long shot that it’s not even on the game board.

“The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom.” (2 Timothy 4:18)

Kids, Kids, Kids!

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If someone had talked with Nate as a high school student and told him he’d end up married with seven kids, he’d have guffawed heartily while sputtering, “Never!”

The fact that it panned out that way is a credit to his flexibility. Each one that came along turned into a fascination for him, each for different reasons. Nate knew nothing about babies as a newlywed, and when Nelson was born weighing in at 10 pounds, his first words as a father, spoken in the delivery room were, “He’s so tiny!” The medical staff had a good howl over that one.

But even though Nate didn’t relate in a natural way to newborns, he jumped in with both feet and participated wholeheartedly. I remember watching him hold Nelson for the first time while still in his green scrubs, bringing the baby nose-to-nose and staring at his face in silence. Nate was mesmerized, or maybe just in shock. Although I’d like to ascribe a spiritual meaning to what he was thinking at that moment, it was probably something basic like, “I can’t believe a real human being just came out of Margaret!”

As the years went by, he became adept at handling one, two, three kids at once. I was focused on babies from the time I could hold onto one.  Nate, on the other hand, hadn’t held a baby until his own. Hunting for certain pictures to post each day, I’ve come across endless photos of Nate amidst crowds of kids. His smiles are broad, and he appears to be having a good time. I’m not sure I ever gave him credit for how far he’d come on that score. He wasn’t just willing to raise a large family but was enthusiastic about doing it. And for him the real pay-dirt came as each got older. The more birthdays they had, the better he related. And when his life was given an end-date, his kids were the people he wanted to be with and talk to, his greatest treasures.

Since many of you have commented on how much you like to see pictures posted on this site, you’ll find a whole bunch today. Lets title the gallery, “Kids, Kids, Kids… and Nate.” The random nature in which the photos attached themselves to the post is somewhat representative of life with seven kids, even though the real reason they’re all over the place is that I don’t know how to do it right!


“Who are these with you?” he asked. Jacob answered, “They are the children God has graciously given your servant.” (Genesis 33:5)

Love Letters

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I laughed the other day when a radio commentator made reference to today’s students as the “I-heart-you generation.”  She was referring to the abbreviated communication between boyfriends and girlfriends that has replaced traditional love letters. Texts and tweets are preferred over hand-written messages that were, in bygone years, scented with perfume, sealed with a kiss and read over and over again.

I still have every one of Nate’s love letters, written to me in the late sixties and early seventies. They span the weeks after we met, the time during which we developed a friendship, the months of his active duty in the Army and our five month engagement period. As I recall, they included a vocabulary of love, original four-line poetry and an abundance of longing, although I haven’t re-read them in forty years.

Nate was a frequent letter-writer during those days but also spoke the language of the I-heart-you-generation long before 21st century kids ever thought of it. Always the gift-giver, in our early years together he communicated his love with heart-shaped necklaces. The first was a small one made of ruby chips which I’ve worn hundreds of times. After that, any heart that would strike his fancy found its way home.

His most recent heart gift came during the summer of 2007 just after our son Hans got married. It was time to go home, and we were painfully late for our flight to Chicago. As we raced through the Manchester airport dragging wheeled bags and carrying many more, my eye caught on a display of chunky heart-shaped glass pendants in a glittering gift shop. “Oooo!” I pointed as we ran past. “Look at those!”

I never broke stride but ten paces further realized Nate had. When I looked back, he was stopped in front of the necklace display, reaching into his pocket. “Might as well get rid of our British pounds,” he said, looking at me. “Come and pick one fast!”

No problem, since they were all gorgeous. We made the plane, the whole crowd of us, just before they closed the doors, and today I have my glass heart, along with that joyful memory of Nate’s desire to please. I never had cause to doubt his love.

Nate loved me in a 1 Corinthians 13 kind of way. In doing so, he was being Christ-like, and I wish I’d thanked him for that. God’s love for his children can’t be duplicated, because he’s God and we’re not. And his greatest love-gift, that of his Son Jesus, represents a depth of love beyond all human possibility. Nevertheless, he wants us to reflect his love as we try to love others. Nate did a good job of that.

In the days immediately after he died, my heart hurt. I wore his heart necklaces often, sometimes under my hoodies, thinking about the circumstances that prompted each gift. Then one day while opening the mail, I came to a padded envelope. A college friend who knew nothing of Nate’s penchant for heart pendants had sent a golden heart with the word “Nate” engraved on it. She said, “You don’t have to wear it in the traditional way. Just pin it to your pillow, hang it over a mirror or slip it into your pocket.”

I was touched deeply by her thoughtfulness, and it seemed a fitting final necklace to add to Nate’s series of hearts. He “hearted” me, and one of these days I’ll celebrate by re-reading those old love letters. On a cold winter night, it’s bound to be a warm walk down Memory Lane.

“Love comes from God… for God is love. This is real love—not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.” (1 John 4:7,8,10, parts)