Length of Days

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“September Song” is the title of an old tune written for a Broadway show in 1938, and one of its lines says, “It’s a long, long while from May to December, but the days grow short when you reach September.” As sunrises and sunsets go, that’s true.

Stina and EvanBut this September, which is in the record books as of today, my niece Stina got married in the middle of the month. And as God would have it, our whole relation came together for the event. Though September days may be growing shorter, we packed a-lotta-livin’ into each one.

Our family has had lots of weddings, but not everyone has been able to attend each event. This time, though, all 49 of us came together to witness and celebrate Stina and Evan’s marriage. But the other reason we assembled was all about the mother of the bride.

Post-opLast February Mary was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. In March she had the extensive Whipple surgery at Mayo Clinic, ridding herself of a baseball-size tumor as well as parts of her pancreas, intestine, gall bladder, and bile duct-work. The surgery was textbook-perfect, and no other cancer was found in the many scans that followed.

Chemotherapy began in May, and this week she completed the 16th of 18 infusions. She’s on the home stretch, and we are all quick to say the end is in sight, not just the end of chemo but the end of cancer. Yet no doctor will use the beautiful word “cured.” Mary herself hasn’t been disappointed by that, testifying that God has taught her a couple of important things since February: (1) to be grateful for each day she’s given, and (2) to live each one to the fullest.

When a cancer diagnosis is handed to a loved one, the whole relation joins into the misery of adjusting to it. And an overwhelming instinct is to rush toward that cherished one, hurrying into her presence with an urgency that feels like she might disappear any second.

None of us has a guarantee that we’ll live on and on, but part of cancer’s wickedness is to hang a permanent threat above the head of the diagnosed one. And when we love that person dearly, cancer becomes a threat to us all. That, I believe, is one reason every family member worked hard to clear schedules, buy plane tickets, pack for old and young alike, and make it to Stina and Evan’s wedding.

???????????????????????????????The days grow short when you reach September, but God tells us the “length of days” is shortening for all of us, every day of every month, not just in September. Day by day, hour by hour, we’re all on a sliding scale of “time remaining.”

Once we accept that, the whole group of us (along with anyone else in a cancer-touched family) becomes empowered to step out from under the threatening cancer-cloud hanging overhead. And it’s reason enough for 48 of us to learn what Mary has learned by way of her cancer: to be thankful for each day of life we’re given, and to live them all to the fullest.

Cling to the Lord your God, for He is your life and the length of your days. (Deuteronomy 30:20)

Come and eat!

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Wise women have said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I believe it.

Lois cooks.When Nate and I got married, he came to me from a childhood of his mother’s creative cooking, a woman with a lavish cook book collection that she used daily. As a newlywed, I realized I’d have to learn to cook if I was going to make my man happy.

Fortunately there was an effective buffer between Lois’ high-class dinners and my incompetence in the kitchen: university food.

Nate’s memory of those childhood meals dimmed as he ate in college dining halls from 1963 until we married in 1969, and his expectations were wonderfully low.

Dining hallAfter 40 years of cooking thousands of meals for him, I remember only one word of criticism. I’d made a teriyaki stir fry, one of his favorites, but the sauce had turned out thin. So I used a tip from Mom, adding a bit of corn starch to thicken the juices.

When Nate came to the table, he saw what we were having and said, “Mmmmm. Stir fry!”

We all sat down, heaped food on our plates and dug in. Nate had already eaten three forkfuls by the time I took my first. “My word!” I said. “What’s wrong with this stuff?”

That’s when Nate’s criticism came. “I kept trying, because I couldn’t believe it tasted so awful. What did you do?”

“I have no idea,” I said, walking my plate toward the disposal. That’s when I noticed I’d inadvertently “thickened” with baking soda instead of corn starch. After we’d all enjoyed frozen pizza, we had a good laugh over my culinary error.

Although I never did become a skilled cook, I did learn one valuable principle preparing meals for a big family each day. More important than flavor, smell, ingredients, or presentation was volume. Everyone was happier with a full stomach, and filling them up became my #1 priority. Not having enough was worse than having only some of a perfectly balanced meal.

Feasting on the WordThis principle works well with spiritual eating, too. We can hold out for a gourmet feast: a peaceful place to read the Bible, a blank notebook, a pen that works, and a set of commentaries. We can wait to pray until we’re sure of uninterrupted time. But if we do, we’ll always be on the edge of spiritual starvation.

God is sure to deliver soul-food-nourishment as our appetites for him grow. And as long as we continue to eat with him, he’ll make sure there’s always enough.

Scripture refers to its words as milk (for beginners) and meat (for the more advanced) and encourages us to taste it. So apparently the old adage does have some truth to it: the way to a person’s true heart is indeed through the stomach.

“Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.” (John 6:27)

Sniffing the Road

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FlashlightWhen Jack and I take our late-night walks, sometimes we don’t need a flashlight, but I carry one anyway. If a car approaches, I turn it on and point it toward Jack, since a driver might not see a black dog at night.

Once in a while when it’s time to take our last walk of the day, Jack is already dozing. If he’s been sleeping hard, it takes a few minutes to perk him up, even out in the cold. Some nights he drags behind me as if he’s walking in his sleep.

Sleepy JackLast night was one of those nights, and since it was after 1:00 am, I wanted him to tend to business quickly. Trying to hurry him along, I whistled, then pretended to run ahead.  I even tossed an acorn down the road shouting, “Fetch!” Nothing helped.

Then I got an idea. I turned on the flashlight and pointed it just ahead of my footsteps. The minute I did, he trotted from 20 feet behind me to just in front, walking in the light. If I moved the beam forward, he sped up. If I moved it back, he slowed down, as if he wasn’t sure of his step without seeing it clearly.

I could only conclude Jack doesn’t see very well. Most dogs have a keen sense of smell, #1 among their five senses. Jack walks along sniffing the road, then suddenly pauses to focus for several minutes on one spot, like we might pause in front of a beautiful painting, trying to take it in. For Jack it’s all about his nose.

Since Nate died, sometimes I walk through life just like Jack, head down, “sniffing the road,” unsure of my steps in the dark. But when I do that, opportunities get missed. There are people with eyes, like me, and then there are people with vision. Those with vision can see beyond what their eyes see to what’s happening around them and what’s possible down the road.

Jack doesn’t worry about what he does or doesn’t see, because his well-developed nose compensates for his eyes, but I don’t have that advantage. Thankfully, though, God has perfect senses and is willing to use them for my benefit. He’s also a visionary, so he sees it all, everything that’s hidden in the dark and all the unseen possibilities yet ahead. Much to my relief, he sees me, too, trudging along, “sniffing the road.” Since I can’t “smell opportunity,” I count on him to shine a light on what he wants me to see.

One of my frequent prayers is that his messages will “hit me over the head.” Maybe I should add, “And feel free to do it with a flashlight.”

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (Mark 14:38)