Happy Birthday, Nate.

Posted on August 18, 2014 by Margaret

Dear Nate…

Today was the 5^th year in a row you weren’t here to celebrate your birthday with us, and the 5^th year I’ve written you a letter on your special day. All of your children checked in with your wife during the day, and we reminisced about the years we had with you. Your family loves you.

Even as I write that, though, I realize you have a new extended family where you are now, each one a heavenly relative, most you hadn’t even met till you got to heaven. You probably don’t miss us like we miss you, but that’s ok. Someday we’ll all understand, when we’re there, too.

In the mean time, here’s a sampling of comments from a few of your children today. Birgitta said, “When I think of Papa, I feel overwhelmed with thankfulness for the man he was! He will always be missed.”

Linnea said, “Being on vacation right now reminds me of all the fun vacations Papa took us on as kids.”

Nelson commented about the 5 years that have passed since you died. He concluded with this: “Time on earth really is short. It’s challenging to think about how we spend our time and what’s important.”

Today I’ve been thinking about the 25 Augusts we spent in the North Woods of Wisconsin, always celebrating our birthdays together there with the family. It struck me that when we started going to Afterglow Lake Resort, we were both 32. When we ended that tradition, we were 57 – having gone from “kids” to middle-age adults as we birthday-partied through those years. Yes, indeed, time is short.

I often wonder if you’re aware of our lives on earth. Do you know your sister-in-law Mary has the same cancer you had? We’re grateful it was caught early and that she did well through radical surgery to remove the tumor.

Now she’s enduring the miseries of chemotherapy, without complaint. Maybe you already knew that. Today, as she was making her way to her 12^th infusion, she took time to write a tribute to you. And I thought you’d appreciate it as much as I did. She wrote:

I’m thinking of Nate today and all the happy memories we have. Your blog also reminded me of how magnificently he did as he soldiered on through all that God called him to endure, all the way to the end.

He is a good example for me and continues to inspire, even though he’s no longer with us. I often wondered why the Lord facilitated or allowed my being present for much of Nate’s last weeks, and now I know. I needed to see firsthand how a person dies well. Nate did that, and I pray I might do as well when my time comes. He was a good, trustworthy, and faithful man who ran the race marked out for him with grace and perseverance. We miss him.

* * * * * *

Amen to that.

I love you, Nate.

I thank my God every time I remember you. (Philippians 1:3)

Crystal Clear

Posted on August 14, 2014 by Margaret

Some would say our dog Jack is spoiled. After all, he eats and drinks out of crystal bowls.

Well, not quite. Though that’s what it looks like, the truth is far from it. Years ago, Nate was running an errand to Ace Hardware to copy a key. When he returned, he came in all excited, calling for me.

“I bought you something!” he said, with a big smile. Handing me a heavy brown bag, he said, “You’re gonna love these.”

I couldn’t imagine what might come from Ace that I would love, but inside, wrapped in multiple plastic bags, were four giant glass bowls. It was one of those moments when I knew I should say something enthusiastic, but I was dumbfounded. Four huge identical bowls? Where would I store them? How would I use so many? What about the bowls I already had?

Nate saw my confusion. “Glass bowls! You love glass!”

Still fishing for words, I said, “Wow.”

He nodded and continued. “And you wouldn’t believe the price! Two bucks each! If they’d had any more, I’d have bought ‘em all!”

Grateful to receive 4 bowls instead of 24, I finally found something to say. “Thanks so much!”

The bowls ended up stored in a stack on the dining room floor, since the cabinets were already full. Nate loved seeing them there, because they prompted him to tell dinner guests about his fabulous find. Gradually I gained appreciation for the bowls, because of the thoughtfulness behind them.

When we moved to Michigan with the 4 bowls, we were squeezing two houses worth of stuff into one and had a bowl-crisis for sure. I asked every visitor, “Want a pressed glass bowl?” For nearly a year there were no takers, though eventually one did go to a new home. In the end, though, Jack ended up with 2 of them.

Now, whenever I fill Jack’s bowls, I’m thankful I didn’t say what I was thinking when Nate first presented them. The fact that I held back, though, had nothing to do with me and everything to do with God’s answer to a long-standing prayer.

I’ve often asked the Lord to stop me from saying wrong things. He’s done it again and again, sealing my lips in the nick of time. The day Nate gave me the bowls, it was God (not me) who kept me from blurting out something hurtful. Had I voiced my thoughts back then, today I would feel awful every time I fed the dog.

Proverbs 17:28 says, “Even a fool is thought wise if ‘she’ keeps silent.” So when I’m thinking like a fool as I was on bowl-gift-day, silence was God’s direct answer to my prayers.

And that’s crystal clear.

“Set a guard over my mouth, O Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips.” (Psalm 141:3)

“I need you!”

Posted on August 12, 2014 by Margaret

Back in 1624, John Donne wrote a meditation that included the sentence, “No man is an island.” Since the beginning of time people have needed each other, beginning with Adam needing Eve. None of us gets life right by ourselves, and the presence of another brings more than just companionship. It often brings wise counsel, too. Asking for advice is a good thing, even scriptural.

Recently I’ve been reminiscing about my own mentor, Aunt Joyce, who advised and encouraged me for 39 years. I clearly remember the day it began. I’d just arrived in California as a 19-year-old for a second happy summer living with my cousins. A mob of us had finished lunch, and everyone had left the table except my aunt and me.

She said, “I know you had a great time here last summer, but you can’t be sure it’ll be the same this year. It could go either way.”

I nodded, thinking about her words long after I’d left the table, since that possibility hadn’t occurred to me. Her counsel had been practical and sensible, and in giving it, she’d put a welcome mat between us, inviting me to come to her any time. And for nearly 4 decades, I took full advantage.

Aunt Joyce faithfully prayed for me and offered counsel until she died in 2005, at the age of 92. Most of her guidance came in handwritten letters which I saved, making her wisdom available to me any time. The miles between us never hampered our relationship because the bond we had was a sturdy bridge. Before Aunt Joyce died, she had begun mentoring our daughter Linnea (as well as many from other families) and was spending large chunks of time praying for her and the rest of us.

The beauty of mentoring is its non-threatening, non-pressured atmosphere. Aunt Joyce wasn’t my mother, a police woman, a professor, or a preacher. With all restrictions lifted, she could just be herself, and I could be myself, sharing back and forth without judgment.

We see biblical mentoring throughout Scripture: Joshua mentored by Moses, Mary by Elizabeth, Barnabas by Paul and of course the twelve disciples by Jesus. And just like I still have Aunt Joyce’s letters, each of us is privy to biblical writings containing all manner of wise counsel.

When I lost my earthly mentor, she left a void no other woman could fill, so I asked the Lord if he would be to me what Aunt Joyce had been. Although he often uses a variety of people to bring me through, he’s also just fine with doing it by himself.