Transported Back

Posted on July 17, 2011 by Margaret

I don’t know what prompted me to do it, but tonight I clicked on my email file entitled “Nate”. The day after we received his fatal cancer diagnosis, I started saving messages in this then-new folder. One of the first entries is the long letter I sent to my closest friends letting them know our dreadful news.

Following that are pages and pages of letters, literally hundreds of emails containing endless offers to help, promises of prayer, expressions of love, encouraging hymn-words and powerful Scriptures. Tonight I read one after the other for several hours until I was weak with gratitude.

I’m not sure what prompted me to delve into those emails. Maybe it’s that I’ve been missing Nate a great deal today, and possibly it’s because the non-stop activity of the last several weeks has quieted. As I plunked down in my flowered lazy-boy on a tiring 90 degree day without air conditioning, I was preparing for a prayer time when my thoughts turned to Nate.

Back then, as we took our first steps into the world of pancreatic cancer, we were uninformed and unproven. The pain escalated (both emotionally and physically), and the emails describe countless offers of (and eventually acceptance of) charity. Love-gifts are often difficult to accept, but gradually we understood that charity is simply another word for love. Even as I read the emails tonight, love radiated from the screen, and I was overcome with the thoughtfulness of others.

Reading was difficult, but I couldn’t stop, despite the tears. Overwhelmingly, the singular message to our family 20 months ago and to me tonight was of unfailing love, love from friends and relatives, and from God.

When a writer would say, “I have no words,” or “Words are inadequate,” they would often follow that with God’s words instead, a supremely comforting alternative. Isaiah 41:10 (below) was repeatedly mentioned.

Many corresponders reminded us we were all part of the same family, the family of God. How good it was to be steadily and repeatedly told of the bond we shared in Christ, because that assured us the emailers were now willing to share in carrying our burdens, too.

When I finally stopped reading, I felt like I’d been given a short course in “What to Do in a crisis.” Along with lots of love, emailers dispensed wisdom, encouragement, strength and hope in a hopeless set of circumstances. None of us knows exactly what to do when tragedy strikes, but these people all did something, and I’m so grateful.

Today I really missed Nate. Although it’s been a long time since I’ve gone back to those last 42 days with him, tonight it was the right thing to do.

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)

Back, and Better than Ever

Posted on July 14, 2011 by Margaret

Some people name their cars. We haven’t, with one exception: college kids and their first vehicles.

The Chevy Nova with the Toyota engine that was first given to Hans as a student in Tennessee, should have been dubbed “Kitty” because of its 9 lives. Not only has it moved through multiple owners, it’s also had a coat of many colors: beige, green, blue, red, bush camouflage, Swedish flag and now snow-camo.

It’s name? “The Bean,” dubbed so during its green-bean color phase. A better name might have been “Everlast” or “Humilitymobile.”

Currently painted white and grey, a snow-camouflage, The Bean wintered in deep drifts behind a Michigan garage and this week was put back into service. It is Louisa’s turn to climb behind the wheel and start the car with a screwdriver. As she heads to northern Wisconsin to counsel at a high school camp, it’ll be The Bean that gets her there.

This car begs to be pulled over by police and often is. However, outfitted with legal plates, tags, registration and proof of insurance, it charms its way out of every ticket. As one officer said after pulling Klaus over, “I knew there just had to be something illegal about this car.” But he drove away disappointed.

Over the years, The Bean has taught us three valuable lessons:

Don’t judge a car by its paint job (or rust spots, or engine racket). Look instead at its track record.
Fight the urge to buy a classy-car image, because the snazziest cars sometimes clunk before 100,000 miles.
Although an unkempt interior can cause embarrassment, it can still get you where you want to go.

Those 3 lessons happen to be biblical, and they apply to people, too:

No one should be judged by his/her appearance.
Everyone should project only an image of who he/she really is.
A person’s dependability is more important than looking good.

As of tomorrow, Louisa will begin bonding with the humble Bean, and she has magnificent plans to personalize it: silver paint enhanced with glitter.

“Is that legal?” she said. “Just think how it would dazzle in the sun!”

She’d better anticipate double-trouble with police pull-overs. And there’s one more possible snafu that may result in a debate with her older brother Nelson about The Bean’s next make-over. He has already refashioned it in preparation for his own next venture, a 750 mile drive to the School of Biblical Studies he’ll be attending this winter… in snowy Montana.

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.” (Luke 6:37)

Bump in the Night

Posted on July 13, 2011 by Margaret

Normally my late night walk with Jack is a pleasure. We usually head out before midnight, but last night the clock got ahead of our intentions, and it was after 1:00 am. I looked at Jack, wondering if he could “hold it” till morning but couldn’t resist his pleading eyes and wagging tail.

“OK,” I said, “but just a short one.”

Since no one else would be out dog-walking at that hour, I left Jack’s leash at home so he could enjoy romping in the woods along our way. Plugging in my ear buds, I clicked on Michael Buble’s playlist, and we were off.

The lively “Haven’t Met You Yet” came on, causing me to pick up the pace to match the beat when without warning my foot smashed full force into something that sent me sailing parallel to the road. Before I hit the pavement, I knew what it was:

a speed bump.

Our neighborhood is nearly empty 9 months of the year but becomes a busy beach community in the summer. So in June, half-a-dozen portable speed bumps come out of storage to slow the increased traffic, and I’m usually tuned in to their familiar locations. Last night was the odd exception.

Although I’d forgotten a flashlight on a pitch black night, my ipod could have served the same purpose and prevented some painful road rash. Hitting the asphalt with one knee followed by the other, then both palms, the tops of my toes, and cheek, my first thought was, “I’ll bet I tore through my new capri’s.”

As is true for all of us after we’ve had an accident, I wish I had a video of the mishap, but I knew the next day would bring a body-summary of what actually occurred. This morning God guided me in how to properly take inventory:

Though my hands are skinned, I didn’t break a wrist.
Though my knee is cut, I didn’t break a knee cap.
Though my foot is twisted, I didn’t break the bones.
Though my toes feel rug-burned, I didn’t break a toe.
Though my back hurts, I didn’t break a vertebra.
Though my rib cage hurts, I didn’t break a rib.
Though my head aches, I didn’t get a concussion.

God began my day by highlighting 7 blessings. As I gingerly crawled out of bed wondering how I’d ever get all the blood out of my new capri’s (and pajama pants), I thought maybe God had let me take my spill just to give me a fresh opportunity to count blessings.

If so, it worked.

He even gave me an 8th. When I hit the ground, my ipod and Michael Buble’ flew out of my pocket and somersaulted down the road. And wouldn’t you know, as it hit, the screen lit up, nicely illuminating the speed bump.

Blessing #8: