Home Improvement – Part X (conclusion)

Posted on November 21, 2010 by Margaret

As I left our house for the last time on moving day, God let me hear him and sense his presence right next to me in a powerful way. He aborted a meltdown and energized me to leave our home on a cheery note. Even better, he rejuvenated my faith in him.

But the good stuff didn’t end there. God gave me a “double-dip” and let me “see” him twice in relation to the house sale. During the four years of trying to sell, we’d been on a roller coaster of irritation and uncertainty, wondering when the torment would end. Had we misheard God? Had we usurped his leadership? Why wouldn’t he bring the one buyer we needed?

In 2004 when we first put our home on the market, our plan was to downsize locally by buying a small townhouse. Birgitta hadn’t started high school and wanted to attend where her siblings had gone, so we planned to stay there four years and then put the townhouse on the market. Nate didn’t have spine problems then, and of course lethal cancer hadn’t crossed our minds.

By the time the house finally sold, Birgitta had traveled through all four years of high school, and the reason for buying a town home had evaporated. It was as if God structured the delay to save us from having to sell yet another piece of real estate in order to move to Michigan. So, the same four years we viewed as major setbacks were actually stepping stones toward our heart’s desire, which was to live full-time on the other side of the lake. And in this realization, I sensed God’s active presence again.

We had longed to move to a place of peace and solitude, especially after Nate’s back began troubling him, and the cottage offered that setting. God facilitated skipping the “middle-man” house and got us settled at our Michigan address just before the cancer became known. The work of moving and unpacking had been completed, and because of the house sale, our finances had been stabilized. If there is such a thing as being prepared for a crisis, we were.

I’ll never forget a conversation Nate and I had about two weeks into his six weeks of cancer. Although the discussion was punctuated with pain, he spoke with a deep peace in his voice. “I see now why God made us wait four years to sell the house. He saw all of this [cancer] and wanted to get us to Michigan right away. I also see that when I’m gone, you’ll be living here, where you love to be.”

Although I was crying, he wasn’t. He “got it,” and all his anger and frustration over not being able to sell the house had evaporated. He was glad to be where we were then, and I’m glad to be living where I am today.

In the process of our house changing hands, I had the thrill of sensing God’s presence twice, but Nate has outdone that. In the one move he didn’t plan, from Michigan to heaven, he didn’t just sense God’s presence but relocated into his actual presence! And I know he’s really glad to be where he is today.

“You have made known to me the paths of life; you will make me full of gladness with your presence.” (Acts 2:28)

One Year Ago: Nate’s Exit to Heaven

Posted on November 3, 2010 by Margaret

People might judge our family to have too keen a focus on Nate’s death, but those of us left behind love to talk about him. Whether it’s the decision about his headstone, the reliving of a memory or a reason to be thankful, all of us are warmed in the process.

Today on the one year anniversary of Nate’s death, nearly 100% of the conversation has been about him, beginning with my children and then through emails, blog comments and snail mail from others. I am a fortunate woman to have so many caring friends, some I’ve known only through cyber space.

Many included comforting Scriptures in their messasges. Nearly all have said they were praying for our family, which I’m sure is the reason it’s been a day of blessing rather than an endurance contest of misery.

One thing mentioned by the kids today is their fresh focus on eternity. We all wonder what’s going on in that supernatural paradise. What is Nate doing? What is he seeing? Who is he talking to? Although we’ve known others who’ve been there for years, it wasn’t until Nate died that we began to seriously ponder the possibilities. Thinking about heaven seems to calm grief the way salve soothes a raw wound.

Hans and Katy’s friend Esther took the time to copy Psalm 121 into her email, the first one I opened this morning:

“[The Lord] who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches… will neither slumber nor sleep. He will watch over your life. The Lord will watch over your coming and going, both now and forevermore.”

These powerful words of promise were a positive way to start the morning. Part of their impact was in knowing they also applied to Nate. I believe the phrase “watching over your coming and going” includes our entering this world, and later exiting from it. God carefully watched over Nate’s life between his “coming” at conception and his “going” at death, right into eternity on November 3, 2009. As Nate arrived there, it became another “coming” monitored by the Lord. Cancer was Satan’s awful idea, but God used it as the vehicle to transport Nate into blissful eternity.

Today all of our children checked in with me. They’re a precious lot, and I don’t deserve the tender kindness they’ve shown. Although we couldn’t all be together, we were one in heart and mind, which greatly enriched this significant milestone.

As the day ended, I went back to Psalm 121, looking it up in Nate’s Bible. Although he didn’t often mark on the words of Scripture, he’d underlined the verses about the Lord watching over him and over his coming and going. Seeing his wavy pen lines on the page made me smile and experience a brief connection to my man.

I needn’t have worried about this important day. In place of tears, God gave us joy… all of us. Especially Nate.

“Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2)

One Year Ago: The Last 24 Hours

Posted on November 2, 2010 by Margaret

I look back at last year’s calendar with its description of our final day with Nate and shake my head. It was a dreadful yet holy day, a family time set apart like no other. What stands out in my memory?

First and foremost, Nate, struggling with pain but then responding well to the morphine drops, liquid relief from the agony of failing organs.

Hospice nurses, three in particular: Margarita teaching us how to use atropine to lessen the fluids in Nate’s system; Sonia showing us how to swab his mouth, moisten his lips, cool him with wet cloths and speak soothingly; Dee, spending the night on a stool near Nate, then tenderly bathing him on his last morning.

Singing, praying, reading Scripture.

Nate finally resting without pain, no knitted brow, no agitation, a relaxed hand as I held it.

Family love and gratitude expressed through tearful goodbyes.

The Holy Spirit’s presence with us in our dimly lit sanctuary, with Nate in his hospital bed as the centerpiece.

Nurse Dee’s comment, “During the night, he looked like he was getting younger and younger.”

Nate’s passion to hang on as long as he could, not leaving us until there was no other choice.

God and Nate deciding his life had reached its finish line and Nate’s walking into eternity with the Lord.

Our aching hearts struggling to believe what had happened, crying, praying, loving.

Watching a new nurse officially declare he was gone, released from his earthly body-bondage; listening to her words of comfort as she shared her Christian faith with me.

Disposing of Nate’s many drugs with Hospice, grateful he had no further need for them.

Watching the funeral home director and his assistant carry Nate out our front door, but being sure the real Nate had left two hours before that.

Realizing God had dramatically healed Nate of a very bad back and pancreatic cancer!

Although I’ve thought about these same details a million times during the last 12 months, tonight, for a change, I’m not crying. And I can’t explain it.

Tomorrow might be a different story, but for now, I can walk among the memories and be drawn to the blessings. During this year, God the Father has taught me so much about leaning on him that I’m continually aware of his nearness and can honestly say he’s my most precious Friend.

Today Louisa shared her thoughts about missing her papa, and we agreed there would be many future days when we’ll wish he was with us. Nothing, however, can spoil the unending togetherness we’ll have in eternity. The disconnect is only temporary.

Most likely we’ll never get the answer to her important question, “Why did he have to die when he did?” Instead, through his death, we’ve been given an opportunity to deepen our relationship with God. He had a reason for taking Nate when he did, a good one, and we can choose to trust him on that. Then, as trust increases, we’ll wonder “why” less and less.