Now what?

Posted on October 4, 2016 by Margaret

When someone precious dies, grieving first presents itself as a feeling of emptiness. It says, “Now what?”

All of us knew what to do when Mary was sick. Several kept her medicine straight, administered it, and made sure she was comfortable. Others kept the kitchen clean. Someone else did laundry. Another cooked. Several cleaned bathrooms, swept floors, ran errands. We all took turns sitting with Mary, sometimes in small groups, sometimes one-on-one.

And suddenly she was gone. Even in those first moments after she’d slipped away, while still gathered around her bed weeping, none of us knew what to do next. “Should we stay here? Move out of the room? Where would we go? What would we do ?”

The simplest decision was muddled, and there were question marks on each face. It was as if our previous instructions, the many tasks related to Mary, had been put through a shredder and then tossed in the air. When we asked “Now what?” no one could answer – at least not then.

Within hours, though, the question had been answered…. because there was a funeral to plan.

That process was much like arranging a wedding in three days:

The announcement/obituary – where to publish it? when?
The printed program – which photos to use? what order of service? what kind of paper? where to get it printed?
The funeral home – which one? what size room? how many will come? or should we use a church?
The casket – who will choose it? what about an outfit for Mary? who do we give it to?
The pictures – poster board photos? with which pictures? Where are they? what about a slide show? who would run it?
The guests – who will do airport runs? where will out-of-towners stay? what about a guest book?
The service – which pastor, musicians, soloists, songs? who will accompany? what about microphones? rehearsals? a podium? will it be recorded? video taped? by whom?
The flowers – ordered from where? what type? how many?
The food – a snack or a meal? where? who will provide it? how much?
The family – does everyone have suitable funeral clothes? if not, who will shop? where? when?
The cemetery – which one? which plot? should there be maps at the funeral? who will print them? who will pass them out?
Where will the flowers go after the service? who will transport them?

At Mary’s bedside we had asked, “Now what?” God had answered with a list of new questions, and we had no choice but to get to work. Could this must-plan phase be his gift to mourners who long for an answer to the “now what” question?

Since all the tasks at hand still had a connection to Mary, each one was important. We all felt useful. And it was a relief to know what to do.

Now those 50 questions have been answered. All of us are slowly returning to our regular lives and the tasks that remained undone when we were busy with Mary and her funeral. The need to catch up on things will keep that perplexing “now what” question at arm’s length for a while. But eventually it’ll be back. When it hits again, I believe each family member will receive a specific answer from the Lord that’s pertinent to them.

And when the “now-what’s” have all been answered, the only remaining question will be, “How will we fill the big empty space that Mary left?”

I’m counting on the Lord to supply an answer for that one, too.

“Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach…. No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart….” (Deuteronomy 30:11,14)

You won!

Posted on September 8, 2016 by Margaret

Back in 1958, I was in the eighth-grade, struggling to get through some very awkward years. Since I wasn’t in the popular group, I saw my fellow students as superior and myself as inferior. The girls had shapely figures, swingy hair, trendy clothes, and better grades. I was pudgy, wore serviceable clothes, was a C-student, and had bushy eyebrows. I lived for weekends, vacations, and any other time I could avoid being in school.

But then something wonderful happened.

I knew I had below-average artistic skills but had signed up for a ceramics class…. because that’s what the cool kids did. Our teacher asked each of us what we wanted to make. In a nod to my sweet tooth, I settled on a cookie jar. And what better design than a girl’s head with a big, cookie-eating mouth?

Day after day I worked on my creation, doing my very best. But the result was a badly-proportioned head that could have been the centerpiece of a horror movie.

I was sure my teacher had to stifle a laugh every time he looked at it, but one day, after our projects had come out of the kiln and were finally finished, he approached my table. “I like what you made, Margaret. And I’ve decided to enter it in a contest.”

I was stunned. And thrilled!

The following weekend my family of five traipsed into a Wieboldts department store nearby and found my cookie jar standing proudly behind glass alongside other entries. And I’d actually won something! Not a blue ribbon or any ribbon for that matter, but a Certificate of Merit. I was delighted, though, because that gold seal awarded me something I’d wanted far more than even a blue ribbon — approval!

The glow continued through Monday in ceramics class, when my teacher poured on the praise for my accomplishment. And oh, did that feel good.

Once in a while, as we walk through life doing our best, we take on an inferiority complex, absolutely sure we’re a disappointment to God. We see ourselves as spiritual failures and would give anything to feel the glow of his approval. The truth, though, is that once we commit to Jesus Christ, we’ve already won it – because we’ve come to him through his Son, of whom he highly approves. He even has a prize ready for us, despite the accomplishment being all Christ’s and not ours. It surpasses certificates, gold seals, even blue ribbons: an eternity with him, in the light of his permanent approval.

As for my future ceramic efforts, I peaked with the cookie jar.

The world will know that You sent me and have loved them [Jesus-followers] even as You have loved Me. (John 17:23)

Meeting a Need

Posted on September 1, 2016 by Margaret

I love my kitchen sink. It’s flush with the countertop, making it easy to wipe surface debris straight toward the disposal. It’s deep, it’s double, and best of all, it’s a significant upgrade from the sink I had when we lived in Illinois.

That sink was only 7” deep (barely big enough for a baby’s bottom), and despite being stainless steel, it was stained…. and dark with age. I hated that sink – but how well I remember the day it went from low-status to high, in one instant.

It had been been a rough day for me with a house full of children and their endless demands, bookended by a rebelling teen and an irritable 9-month-old.

Since the baby’s fussing wouldn’t let me make dinner, I put her in a backpack, trying to ignore her kicks-to-the-kidneys as she objected to being confined. That’s when I saw a fresh batch of scratches on my old stainless sink.

Immediately the accumulated frustrations of the day morphed into hot anger as I tried to guess which one of my children had dared to vandalize my already-pathetic sink. Grabbing the dish rag and attempting to rub away the scratches, I realized they were actually small letters. The vandal, whoever it was, had stood at the sink and carved…. “I love Mom.”

Instantly my anger dissolved in a deep sigh. I set the rag aside and traced the scratchy words with my finger. As the poignant message flowed into me, the accumulated tensions of the day flowed out.

Christians often say, “God will meet our needs.” That can sound generic, but when push comes to shove (as it had for me that day), he comes through in some very clever ways. Those small scratched words helped me in a way nothing else could have in that high-stress moment. And the comfort they gave lasted far longer than just that day.

Those three words continued to be an ongoing encouragement through 11 more years of working at that old sink. And when I found out the vandal had been my rebelling teen, it meant all the more. Though he couldn’t say it out loud back then, he’d found a way to let me know that through all our ups and downs, he still loved me.

Eventually we remodeled our 20-year-old kitchen, and the old sink was removed. But as I work in my current kitchen, I’m always reminded of the scratched words that ministered to me from an old “stainless” sink.