Category Archives: Remembering

Pushing Forward

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Our family has now passed the 2nd anniversary of Nate’s death. Before I left for California last week, I sent a group email to my children (7 kids, 2 in-law kids), detailing how I was feeling about the anniversary and where I was in my grieving, asking if they would please share how they were doing, too.

Reading through their responsive messages as they came to my inbox, my heart was flooded with love and hope. So, as an encouragement to all of you who wonder if your grief will ever lift, here are snippets from their heartfelt emails. (Since I’m doing this without permission, their names have been withheld.)

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  • There were so many things we loved about Papa. His dedication to us all and so many others was obvious by the way he worked so determinedly and freely gave himself to the work God entrusted to him. He cared for you, Mom, so well, and all of us were unconditionally blessed to have had such a great father.
  • I’ve been good at moving forward as a person, but some days it just doesn’t feel right to move forward without Papa. It’s a strange feeling that’s difficult to put into words. I guess I feel like the more time goes by, the more I lose him for good.
  • Things come out as time goes on. I feel sad and miss him most when I’m far away. Nonetheless, I’m happy for all the time we had together.
  • He has “missed” 2 years of our family, growing, changing, and experiencing life. I have to choose not to dwell on that or it overwhelms me with sadness.
  • I’m very thankful we were all together when Papa was sick and when he died.
  • This second year I’ve been remembering more of the good things about that time. All the family dinners by the fire, the food people made for us, the way the Petersons were right there with us (esp. Bervin and Mary), and the last conversations we had with Papa.
  • He was a gracious person to me, and that was God’s character shining through.
  • Papa was an original.
  • I feel thankful for the years I had with Papa and all he did to make my life happy and full of blessing. I’m thankful for all he did to make my life that way even now, after he’s been gone. I’m also thankful to be able to fall back on the thought of seeing him again someday.
  • I miss Papa a lot, and sometimes it feels really unfair that he’s gone. We can’t call him or ask for advice or hear his laugh. But as he would say, “That’s life, kid,” and he’d push forward.  So that’s what we have to do. Push forward.
  • Papa showed us there was humor to be found even in the seriousness of life, and he laughed at strange things, but mostly he laughed at himself.
  • It’s hard to surpass Papa’s generosity. 
  • I love remembering how warm and sunny it was the day of the funeral and how so many people who loved Papa came to pay their respects. I also remember how your stocking, Mom, was sliding down at the graveside, and you didn’t want to stand up to throw the rose because of it. Even during one of the saddest moments, God gave us something to laugh about.
  • Papa was a scholar, a hard worker, selfless, had limitless generosity, a godly man, a loving man, and he is being rewarded now for all these things.
  • I still miss him and think of him every day.
  • I wish we weren’t spread out across the globe. It seems like we should all be in the house together on Thursday night, sitting in a circle by the fire, eating Chinese and talking about Papa.
  • In Philippians, Paul is at the end of his life and seems to know it. To be at the end and talk about rejoicing and how his life was “poured out like a drink offering” for the faith of others, made me think of Papa.
  • I am who I am partly because of the father I had.
  • My overall feeling today is gratitude and respect for Papa.
  • Today I feel sad but very loved.
  • Papa will always be missed while we are still at home in the body. It’s difficult now to go on without him, but it’s such a joy and comfort to know that a day will come when we will be reunited in the presence of Jesus.

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“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)

 

A Tail Tale (by Jack)

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Today is a tail-wagging day: my 9th birthday. That makes me a contemporary of Midge, since we’re both in our mid-60s now. She gave me a wonderful birthday present, telling me I could write tonight’s blog. She also gave me an extra rawhide. I especially like the ones with the red stuff in the middle, which is what I got today.

In response to public demand for an update on last week’s tail injury (“Without a Wag” Oct. 13, 2011), please know I’m doing well. That fateful day when I failed to hit my mark while leaping onto the high deck at the back of the car, I crashed backwards to the asphalt, bending the base of my thick tail in a way it shouldn’t have bent.

Immediately it got black and blue, but with my black fur coat, who knew? Because it hurt to move it, I was forced to stop wagging, a tremendous sacrifice. Not to be able to show acceptance and affection to my loved ones was a terrible loss, the start of a depressing week for me.

But Midge sympathized with my dilemma, and as I tried to communicate love with my eyes, I’m pretty sure she got my drift. She doesn’t have a tail herself (poor thing) and can’t wag her emotions, but I’ve gotten good at figuring out how she’s feeling by other clues she gives.

A year ago as she was crossing over all the “firsts” without Pidge, she wouldn’t have been doing much wagging even if she had had a tail, especially during the October days leading up to the first anniversary of his death (Nov. 3). But this year was a different story. Although sometimes I catch her with a tear on her cheek, mostly her wag-o-meter is in a wiggling position, and her face is dry.

I’m thankful for her, and I know she’s thankful for me. Now that my bruise is healed and my wag is 100% again, I’m able to tell her that every day. As for her, despite the disadvantage of not having a tail, she does her best with words, weaving them into tales of another kind.

By the way, I saw her take a juicy red steak out of the freezer tonight. Maybe if I wag really good…
“The Lord will make you the head, not the tail. If you pay attention to the commands of the Lord your God that I give you this day and carefully follow them, you will always be at the top, never at the bottom.” (Deuteronomy 28:13)

Finding the Lost

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When I was fresh out of college, teaching in the Chicago school system, my bank account was flush with paychecks and very few financial commitments. The dollars piled up, and a friend suggested I swap my Chevy Corvair for something classier.

I bought another Chevrolet but this time a Corvette convertible with both hard and soft tops. It was candy apple red and full of speed. With an apartment on Chicago’s near north side, 3 great roommates and a secure job, I was enjoying my new independence.

One busy Sunday afternoon I arrived back at the apartment planning to stay only a few minutes and parked my Corvette on the street without putting up the top. In less than 10 minutes, it had been stolen.

I called the police, filed a report, posted notices and drove a borrowed car through Chicago neighborhoods in search of my beloved Corvette, but it had vanished.

On this 10 year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, while listening to a recitation of casualty names, I thought about the nearly 3000 people who had vanished that day. Hospitals were staffed and waiting, but very few patients ever arrived. For weeks family members believed their loved ones might still be found alive, so they posted pictures and desciptions throughout the city.

Bus stop shelters and phone booths became makeshift bulletin boards covered with photos and names as hopeful people tried to connect with those they couldn’t find, but precious few succeeded. Yesterday I heard the gruesome statistic: only 39 bodies were actually found in the rubble.

None of those 3000 planned to finish their lives that day, but just like them, the rest of us don’t pick our last day either. It takes exceptional planning to be ready, and apart from God, none of us can be.

But there’s a big difference between New York’s picture Lost and Found and God’s. Every one of us start out lost because of our inherited bent toward sin, like pictures on a bulletin board waiting to be rescued. Thankfully, God’s finder fee was paid by Christ, and 100% of those who want to be found, are.

If it were up to God, his Lost and Found would be completely empty, nothing on the bulletin board, no pictures of the lost. But he’s left it up to each of us. And with unplanned last-days like September 11, 2001, a decision that says “yes” to being found by the Lord is better made now rather than later.

(As for the red Corvette, against all odds the police found it 24 hours later, in tact except for the screwdriver where the starter had been.)

“The Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost. Now is the time of God’s favor; now is the day of salvation.” (Luke 19:10, 2 Corinthians 6:2)