Beach Bums No More (…conclusion)

When Scripture describes the Lord as “God of all comfort,” what does it mean? Isn’t it true that when we need comforting, we can get it from many sources? It can come through friends, family members, sermons, books, magazines, a tasty meal, even just a good night’s sleep.

A more accurate way to think about the God of all comfort is to recognize he’s the only One with access to ALL comfort, i.e. all kinds of comfort. His soothing touch can come in a thousand ways, but there’s never any “Whoops. I should have tried something else.”

A case in point was when I was newly crushed after losing my long-term beach buddy, sister Mary (preceding post). Unbeknownst to me, it was several years earlier that God had set up gentle comfort for me during this time.

Beach walkwayBack in 2013, our home association began building a sturdy walkway and deck leading from a small, sandy parking lot to the beach.

As Mary and I arrived one day, workmen were digging deep, round holes to establish strong pilings that would hold up the walkway. After digging the holes, they put in plump, white pipe-like forms resembling giant versions of what’s under a kitchen sink. Each was 12″ in diameter.

Next they stood hefty wooden 6” X 6” posts inside the “pipes” and poured in concrete for stability. As Mary and I left the beach that day, the crew had just finished, and she couldn’t resist the wet concrete. “Hey,” she said, “let’s leave a fingerprint.”

Walkway supportMary bent over the first post and firmly pressed in her right thumb, making a mark that only she could.

In the weeks that followed, the walkway was completed, and neither of us mentioned “her impression” again. We actually forgot about it, but of course God didn’t. Instead he filed it under “All comfort,” saving it for use three years hence.

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Sunset buddies

 

The day finally came when Mary and I sat side-by-side at the beach for the last time. She talked about what was just ahead for her, with terminal cancer. “I hope I don’t die during the summer. That would be hard. September or October would be the best time.”

God gave her that wish. She died in September of 2016.

After that, it was difficult to think of being alone on the sand without my beach buddy, but eventually I did go back. Sitting in that peaceful place, though, where she and I had shared 70 summers, was painful.

A markThat was the moment when God dipped into his file of “All Comfort” and eased my grief with one sweet thought. He reminded me of Mary’s permanent mark on this cherished place, still there where she put it – a small thing, but it brought big comfort on that hard day.

Though God had access to all kinds of comfort-choices, he picked the one that worked.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort.” (2 Corinthians 1:3)

The Way to a Wedding

At my house we’re putting the finishing touches on plans for a wedding that will take place this August, when Louisa marries Teddy – our third family wedding in 12 months.

Nelson and Ann Sophie, wedding dayNelson married Ann Sophie last August in Hawaii (right), and Birgitta married Spencer last November in Iowa (below), which adds up to three.

If I count my brother’s son Charlie and his bride Larissa (married in May), my nephew Karl and his Cecilia (also in May), and Tom’s son Ben with his Amy (this July), the family wedding count rises to six – one every other month.

 

Iowa Bettis family.Weddings can be expensive, and it’s a pleasure to watch these “kids” make economical wedding decisions. But there’s one family wedding that takes the cake in the budgeting department.

Our daughter Linnea met Adam (below) when both were serving in Youth With A Mission. Love blossomed, and he presented her with a ring on a snowy winter afternoon in Montana, in 2003.

 

 

Linnea aand AdamBoth were students there at an intensive YWAM Bible school when Linnea called us to share their big news. We were thrilled, already loving Adam, but we wondered how in the world we’d ever pay for a wedding.

Our family was in the midst of a rapid financial downturn due to some governmental tax law changes that destroyed Nate’s once-thriving business. By then we were struggling to pay our own bills, much less those of a wedding.

On the phone that night when Linnea asked how much we had in our “wedding account,” Nate looked at me and held up his finger and thumb in the sign of a zero.

We told Linnea the truth, that there was no wedding account, and when the conversation ended, both she and I were in tears. I pictured Adam standing with his arm around her, whispering comfort into her misery… and I felt awful.

Our daughter was suffering, too, and we longed to do something about it. She closed that conversation with, “Can we talk about this again tomorrow?”

Wedding aisleAs soon as we hung up, we began asking God to rescue us. Almost right away he reminded us of a song that says, “God will make a way, when there seems to be no way.” In this case, there really was no way. Though we wanted to believe he could and maybe even would make a way, we sure couldn’t imagine how. But if Linnea was going to have a wedding, it would have to be his doing.

“The Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the one who trusts in him.” (Psalm 32:10)

(…to be continued)

Missing a Sister

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)