Category Archives: Submitting to God

Soul Food

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Hannah and ErikaMy parents, if they had lived past 100, would now be enjoying 26 great-grandchildren. The oldest in this group, Hannah and Erika, are twins born to my niece Julia and her husband Drew. This week, Hannah (left) and Erika (right) have forfeited a fun family vacation in Florida to go on a mission trip to Guatemala.

These two girls have already had some mission trip experience – when they were only five years old. As they left home to travel with their parents to Ecuador, I remember their great-grandma (my Mom) wondering aloud, “Will ‘my’ twins be safe from harm?”

Model girlsGod’s mind, however, was on a different kind of safety, that of the soul. His plan was to expose these little girls to new experiences that would establish compassion and caring in their young hearts.

While Hannah, Erika, and their parents were in Ecuador, mission team members were told of families who were so poor they had to pick through the garbage at the village dump in search of food. Even the Ecuadorian children were sometimes enlisted in this effort.

Though each American on the trip was deeply moved by such poverty, the twins internalized the information in a different way. One evening shortly after returning home, the family was sitting down to dinner. Erika looked at the abundance of delicious, healthy food in front of her and made an important decision. Getting out of her chair, she picked up her plate and carried it toward the kitchen sink.

Kitchen garbageJulia and Drew watched her, wondering what she was up to. Then, without hesitating or glancing back at her parents, she overturned her untouched plate of food into the garbage.

“Erika!” her mother said. “What are you doing?”

She was ready with a logical answer. “I’m sending my dinner to the kids in Ecuador. They’re hungry, and they’re looking for food in the garbage.”

Surely God was smiling on  this young soul.

Today, 11 years later, Hannah and Erika are once again on a mission trip. The fundraising letters they wrote made it clear that the impact of the first trip was still with them.

PalsTo quote Erika, “A few years back, my family went to Ecuador on a mission trip. This opened my eyes. On this trip I hope that I will grow closer to God. And I hope to be able to share God and who He is in me, with the people.”

And from Hannah. “I have been blessed with an amazing opportunity to witness to the wonderful children of Guatemala. Not everyone can go on a mission trip.”

God is a pro at managing the who, what, when, where, and how of our lives. Much of the time we have no idea what he’s doing in someone else’s soul, but once in a while he gives us a glimpse – and reminds us (quoting from a 16-year-old’s fundraising letter)…

“With God, nothing shall be impossible.” (Luke 1:37)

Missing a Sister

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TwinsiesMy sister Mary and I were unified in heart and mind from the very beginning. She wasn’t that far ahead of me in age, only a tottering toddler when I came along. Mom referred to those days as “playing house with my two little girls,” and we were blessed to be dearly loved.

From the beginning, Mom promoted a partnership between Mary and I, reinforcing it by dressing us in matching outfits. We had identical pinafores, coats, shoes, and dresses. But whether or not it was Mom’s doing, our sister-bond began early and lasted 71 years.

IMG_4252This week, a year and 5 months after Mary died, I’m feeling extra sad without her. I’ve been trying to put fresh fabric covers on my 8 dining room chairs, doing battle with a hard-to-squeeze staple gun and its frequent malfunctions. The deeper struggle, however, has been missing my sister.

The last time these chairs were covered was 7 years ago, and the two of us did them together. As always, it was fun and efficient to work as a team.

Our day of wrestling with upholstery fabric was punctuated with laughter over mistakes, lots of re-do’s, and a few staple-wounds. But there was serious talk too, as we lunched over Campbell’s tomato soup.

M and M upholsteringBy the end of that one day, we’d finished all 8 chairs. But the greater reward had been in getting to spend so many uninterrupted hours together. Doing the same job now hasn’t been satisfying at all, because of my strong longing to do it with Mary.

And that’s the most frustrating part of losing someone we love. The separation is complete and irrevocable. Though we know in our heads we can’t have even one extra minute with that person, we slip easily into fantasizing about how lovely it would be if we could. But reality always yanks us back and hits us with the words, “You can’t.”

I’ve had to work extra hard these last few days to listen to God’s advice about all this. And what he’s been whispering to me is, “I am your hope.”

He needed to tell me multiple times: “I will fill you with all kinds of joy as you look at Me. You’ll find yourself actually overflowing with hope, because of My Spirit’s power within you.” (Romans 15:13, loosely) After hearing it enough, I finally had to agree with him.

FriendsAs I’ve been hammering staples that refused to go all the way in, I’ve been thinking more than ever about life after death and the hope I have of spending not just one extra minute with Mary (and others) but of sharing unending time.

And I’ve learned that the hope God offers really does push out sadness. It also gives birth to gratitude – for a sister and for the Lord.

“The eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love.” (Psalm 33:18)

Newlywed Love (#119)

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November 13-15, 1970

Nate continued to leave notes for me, many of them thank you’s. I loved him for writing them and got a kick out of his hiding places.

One note was stuck in the steering wheel of my car, another under my pillow. Notes were taped to the bathroom mirror, the front door, and the kitchen sink. Once he bought me an Eskimo pie and attached his note to it in the freezer: “Happy Wednesday!” he wrote. Occasionally I’d find a message among the frozen vegetables.

Another noteNate thanked me for cleaning the apartment, folding his undershirts, and making breakfast.

Of all the notes he left, though, my favorite was his simple “I love you,” something he had said consistently from the beginning of our then-one-sided relationship. Even when I hadn’t loved him, he’d written of his love for me.

He did many other things that spoke love to me. He opened doors, whether it was at the apartment, in a store, a church, someone else’s home, or anyplace – including the car. Even if it meant standing in the rain, he always took care of me first.

Bearing burdensHe brushed every new snowfall off my car and always carried boxes or bags for me, even if they weren’t heavy. He pulled out every chair for me, never seating himself before I was settled – even when it was just the two of us in our apartment. And at the dinner table, he never helped himself to any of the food before offering the serving bowls to me.

When we took our evening strolls around the neighborhood, he faithfully walked on the curb side, the old-fashioned, gentlemanly way to shield a lady from harm. I marveled at how seamlessly he changed sides if we went around a corner or across the street, almost like a smooth dance.

Ice waterAny time he got a glass of water or a Pepsi for himself, he’d ask if I wanted one, too, and then would prepare them both. And he never sent me off to work without giving several delicious kisses. When I returned, he had a bunch more ready for me.

On cold days he made a cozy fire before I came in from work, knowing this would warm me inside and outside. As we talked on a blanket in front of it, he was careful not to interrupt me and always focused on my face when I talked.

Even when we were in a group, he kindly introduced me and spent time talking to me as well as others. By his consistent example in these ways, he let me see what life looked like when one person put another ahead of himself. His actions assured me of his devotion.

I love you.As I watched him, it seemed like he didn’t have to work very hard at doing these things, which amazed me. Rather, they flowed naturally from what he was feeling. Nate was committed to me and to making our marriage the best it could be. And he deserved full credit for its success.

I knew not all young wives were thus blessed, and I was deeply grateful – both to Nate and to God… the One who had brought us together.

“I have not stopped thanking God for you.” (Ephesians 1:16)