Who, What and When

Posted on February 25, 2015 by Margaret

One of the problems of having 7 children is trying to remember who I told what, when.

(Left to right: Nelson, Hans, Lars, Klaus; Linnea, Louisa, Birgitta)

For example, I might be planning a trip and tell one of my children about it as we’re conversing in my kitchen: “On such-and-such a date, I’m going to visit so-and-so.”

Then, while texting with another child later that day, I might send a similar message. The next day I might have a phone conversation with another one and say the same. Gradually the word spreads: “On such-and-such a date, Mom’s going to visit so-and-so.”

But then, after I’ve gone, sure as shootin’ one of my grown kids will say, “Where’s Mom? She hasn’t been home for 2 days!” That’s when a sibling will say, “Don’t you remember? She went on a trip.” Then the uninformed will respond with, “She never told me.”

That’s when one of the others will say, “Well, she told me 3 times.”

These days, iPhones make group-informing easier, but for many years remembering to let all 7 adult children know my plans was a chronic problem. Occasionally one of them would actually miss a family gathering because, “No one told me!” It was an awful dilemma.

I failed at communicating like this again recently, and today as I was chastising myself, God comforted me by reminding me of something special: “Remember, I’ll never do that to you.”

One of the Lord’s awesome characteristics is that he relates to each of his children one-on-one every time he wants to communicate something. It’s as if each of us is an only child, his only child. But that isn’t all.

Simultaneously, while relating to one of us at a time, he’s also keeping track of his personal interactions with every person who lives on the earth. And it doesn’t stop there, because he’s also one-on-one with those who’ve died and are already living in Paradise with him… from the first-ever man and woman through to today.

Thus, the total number of his one-on-one relationships is astronomical, yet he is continually keeping careful track of each one, what he’s told, what he hasn’t.

My 7 children have good reason to wonder if they’re missing out on something I’ve told the others but not them. But God’s children don’t ever have to feel insecure about that. He’ll never fail to let us know everything we need to know.

This is reassuring, especially when I’m waiting to hear from him and don’t. I can be encouraged by picturing my Heavenly Parent looking me straight in the eyes and telling me the important stuff. And if I still have lingering questions or am craving more info, I should remember that I don’t have it only because I don’t yet need it. He’ll tell me when his timetable says he should.

He won’t ever forget to inform me. And if I miss the details, it’ll only be because I didn’t remember what he already said.

“Then I remembered what the Lord had said.” (Acts 11:16)

Please stay.

Posted on February 11, 2015 by Margaret

While Emerald happily played with my button collection and a couple of muffin tins, I studied something else in the mix: my husband’s shirt stays.

Nate liked his business shirts starched till they were almost stiff. When we were first married and he was still a law school student, washing and ironing the all-cotton shirts of that era wasn’t high on his agenda. So he wore a professionally laundered/starched shirt every day. When I hugged him, he crinkled.

Gradually I convinced him to let me do his laundry, and a bit of spray starch with an iron seemed to work just as well. Most of his shirts were button-down at the collar. Those tiny little buttons, almost too small for man-sized fingers, kept collars perfectly straight. But eventually cotton button-downs morphed into button-free collars on shirts made of soft perma-press fabric. That’s when the stays came in.

Each collar corner had a tiny narrow pocket sewn into it, just big enough for a plastic stay. Those collar points would then stay perfectly flat and stiff…. without any starch.

Over the years I found scores of these stays in the bottom of my wash machine after Nate or I would forget to remove them before washing his shirts. That, apparently, was why they were made of indestructible plastic.

As I fingered those stays today I thought about how nice it would be if we had something like body-stays to help us stand up straight and defy gravity’s tug over years of time. Even better than that, though, would be spiritual stays.

If we had those, there’d be no such thing as backsliding in our faith or losing our first-love enthusiasm for the Lord. We’d never feel blue over a discouraging situation, because nothing could “wrinkle” our bright hope in Christ. In other words, our spiritual stays would work to keep our faith from “wilting,” no matter what was going on around us.

Of course if we consulted God about this, asking for the equivalent of spiritual stays, he’d probably say, “You already have the one spiritual stay you need, the one I gave you years ago. It’s actually a collection of stays that far surpasses even the biggest collection of buttons.

“They come in the form of my words, and they’re kept not in a baggie with buttons but in the safety of the Bible. If you tuck several of them into each of your days, responding to life according to what they say, your faith will never wrinkle or wilt. And if you’re willing to ‘stay’ with Me in that way, I’ll always ‘stay’ with you.”

“If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all.” (Isaiah 7:9)

“Hay” there!

Posted on February 10, 2015 by Margaret

Back in the 1960’s, I spent 3 summers in California with dad’s brother’s family. My Uncle Edward and Aunt Joyce were always welcoming, not just to me but to many young people.

During those teenage summers, my cousins and I spent most of our time in a very small desert town named Hesperia, where my aunt and uncle had a vacation home. Just a few short blocks off Main Street, we were in the wilds of the Mojave Desert: tumble weed, cacti, Joshua trees, and endless sand.

When we weren’t working our day jobs, we took advantage of the wide open spaces to ride horses and then after dark, would pile into pick-up trucks to hunt kangaroo rats and rabbits.

All this was heaven to a girl from the Chicago suburbs.

Our guy-friends worked as hay bucks, hooking 100-pound bales and stacking them in neat rows on a flatbed truck.

We girls often visited them on the job, bringing chocolate milk and cookies to wherever they were working. Sometimes they’d let us ride atop the bales, an experience much like leading a parade on a decorated float.

The other day while driving on a Chicago expressway, I spotted a truck piled high with hay bales, triggering the memories of those unforgettable summers in the ’60’s. As I drove along, I had fun reminiscing.

Many people say that as we get older, we’re tempted to spend too much time looking back. Soon I’ll turn 70, which means more than 70% of my life will be history. But dwelling on that only leads to believing the lie that my “best years” are behind me.

None of that lines up with the way God wants me to think.

The Bible talks honestly about growing older and how our physical lives inevitably become more difficult. But he also shows us there’s a big difference between an oldster who partners with him and one who doesn’t.

If we’re following him, he wants us to have his perspective: that eternal life begins at the same time earthly life begins. Once a new life has been conceived, the soul never dies. And understanding this puts all of life on a smooth timeline moving seamlessly from life-now to life-then. If we believe this, the emotional burden that aging often brings is lifted, and every year can be a “best” year.

God also offers a deep inner calm, separate and apart from whatever the calendar says we ought to be feeling. And though reminiscing is fun, we should never shy away from eyeing the future… with confidence. As we follow God’s lead, we can continue learning and growing without any gaps — right into eternity.

As for bales of hay in the Chicago suburbs? One day after those 3 spectacular summers had ended, our mailman brought me the best gift ever: a 100 pound bale of hay, sent all the way from Hesperia!