Following a Plan-Maker

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My mother was, as they used to say, full of the dickens. She had enough energy for 4 people and injected fun into every day. Dad was her polar opposite, serious and steady, comfortable with quietness and content to come home after work and stay there.

But Mom was a plan-maker. I remember Dad arriving home after a stressful day of managing 250 engineers/architects, ready to relax with his newspaper, when Mom would say, “Carl, don’t take off your tie. We’re going out.”

Dad would wince, but in the end he’d comply. I felt sorry for him on evenings like that, but then one day he said, “If I hadn’t married your ma, I would have been a hermit.” Her conviviality was part of the reason he chose her, and part of why he loved her.

Despite having sympathized with Dad, though, I ended up doing the same thing with Nate. I look back in pictures and see him doing my bidding, still in his suit and tie after work: blowing up balloons for a party, moving furniture, or managing bath time hair washings. Near the holidays he’d be licking stamps for Christmas envelopes, packing Easter baskets, or carving pumpkins.

Just like Dad, he may have secretly winced when I announced my plans, but later the photos would bring a smile, and he’d remember those episodes as positive and charming.

All of us know the Lord regularly makes plans for us. When he lets us know what they are, do we wince and say, “You know, I’m really worn out and want to do my own thing for now.”

Or might we say, “You’ve got a good idea there, God, and I’ll definitely get on board. Someday.”

Or, “Actually, your plans don’t make the best use of my natural gifts, so please find someone else to do it.”

Or, “Don’t you remember, Lord? I tried that once before. It didn’t work then, so I won’t do it now.” Our excuses for not obliging can get quite creative.

What’s really happening, though, is that our God is letting us in on his highest and best for us, detailing plans that will lead to more plans, that will lead to supernatural conclusions. If we step around his groundwork tasks because it’s a hassle or inconvenience, we’re setting aside far more than just what he wants us to do right then.

Rejecting his plans for us is analogous to “dissing” him, which is slang for dismissing or disrespecting him, a far more serious matter than just opting out. It’s a telltale sign of a heart not truly committed to him.

What made Dad and/or Nate go along with the plans of Mom and me, even when it was difficult for them?

Love. Dad loved Mom. Nate loved me. And when love acts, the result is always more love, which is God’s plan exactly.

“God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.” (1 John 4:16)

Three Years Ago

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Rather than write a blog about the 3rd anniversary of Nate’s death (Nov. 3), I’ve decided to post the email I sent to my children yesterday.

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Hi, Everyone…

As the 3rd anniversary of Papa’s death arrives again, I’m wondering how you all are doing and would love to hear from you. I know some of you are deeply affected by this date and others may not have even realized what day it was. And that shows how differently we’ve all dealt with (and continue to deal with) our grief. There is no right or wrong way, no assigned finish date.

Each night when I go to sleep I wonder if maybe I might dream about Papa and have a “visit” with him. But there have been only 3 occasions in 3 years when that’s happened, and dream-visits always have to end with the harsh realization that he’s far, far away. He’s completely inaccessible to me, to all of us, and sometimes that still hurts badly.

His absence has increased my longing for heaven and our reunion there. I remember Grandpa Johnson once saying, at the funeral of another good friend of his, “Well, my friends are pretty much gone now.” He outlived all of them, dying at 92, and was well aware that life as he knew it was “narrowing.” More and more of the people he loved had already taken up residence in heaven, and he knew he would go soon, too. But being sure of his salvation, he had a calm, peaceful acceptance of God’s choice of timing.

That timing is sort of mysterious, and often we’ve got lots of questions that never get answers, especially about disease and dying. We get impatient to know the “why’s” but of course God doesn’t owe us any answers. My morning devotional book (by Spurgeon) has a good entry for November 3. Part of it, which I read each year, says: “The Lord will keep his appointments. He never is before his time; he never is behind.” Our instructions are to cooperate with God’s timing on every level, which sometimes includes the deaths of those we love. I don’t know why Papa had to die when he did, but I do know he died on the exact day God had planned for it to happen, for reasons he hasn’t shared with us.

As for me, I’m following the instructions of Isaiah 26:3, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is fixed on Thee.”  This verse is hanging on our sunroom wall as a good reminder of how to get through stuff. It’s a plaster plaque that came from Grandpa and Grandma’s house.

God has blessed the Nyman family exponentially, both before and after Papa’s death, and according to Scripture, his good gifts will continue. There’s no greater blessing than new life (which includes new life in Christ), and just think of it: 5 new family members born to us in these last 3 years. God has absolutely showered us with goodness!

(BTW, I believe Papa is in on all of it, with a perspective that’s far superior to ours.)

So today we’re remembering, and we all miss him a lot. I have to say I love him more now than I ever did.

Lotsa love to all of you, too!
Mom/Marni/Grandma Midgee/MeeMee

“My soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him. I will not be shaken.” (Psalm 62:5-6)

 

Pen Time (By Jack)

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It’s been 4 months since Midge let me at her keyboard, but today I got my chance.

Although my summer went well (despite high heat on my heavy black fur), recent days have been more puzzling. It all began last week when I was forced to spend long hours in our new backyard pen. Until this summer I’d never been put behind a locked gate and wondered what I’d done to deserve such abandonment.

It occurred to me that Midge might have put me there by mistake. She can be ditzy, and it’s possible she just forgot where to look for me. But when I realized no one was coming on that first day, I became proactive. Since I’ve learned that repeated nudging sometimes opens closed doors, I tried it on the gate.

As I gently bumped my head against it again and again, suddenly it swung open, and I was free to go! Those days in the pen ended up being the best I’ve had in a long time! I don’t know where Midge or the rest of them were, but for unending hours I got to roam the streets, the neighborhood, and the beach as if leash laws didn’t exist. I began hoping Midge would put me in the pen every day.

But then something strange happened. Last Sunday everybody came home again and Birgitta walked in with a mysterious bundle that made strange sounds and had a bizarre smell. She unwrapped it, knelt down in front of me, and asked me to come and see it. She let me sniff it all over, but I really couldn’t categorize its smell.

Right then both Birgitta and Midge began talking to this new bundle in the lilting, high-toned voices usually directed at me. I leaned in close to receive their happy talk, but this time Midge pushed me gently and said, “No, Jack. That’s enough.” Since then I’ve heard lots of happy talk, but it’s all been a bust for me.

Finally today, Midge saw my sad tail and comforted me. “Jackie-Boy, don’t worry. We still love you, too.”

I hope so, because an old guy like me doesn’t make new adjustments easily. Actually, a week ago today was my 70th birthday. I spent it in the pen. But you know something? Despite most of the attention going toward Birgitta and the never-ending bellyache she was having on that day, Midge did give me a handful of birthday bones as she put me in the pen. Not 1, not 2, but 5! And when I finished eating them, I simply nudged open the gate and had an adventurous birthday celebration all my own.

I don’t understand much about the strange squawking bundle at our house these days, but I’m glad everybody is home now, and I’ve decided to rest in realizing they still do love me. I’m also going to be grateful for whatever pen-time comes my way.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)