Picture-Perfect

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My daughter Linnea is in Michigan with me this week, husband Adam, 3 year old Skylar, 2 year old Micah, and 4 month old Autumn. Having children around enlivens the rest of us. Their enthusiasm for life is contagious, even the way they hit the “go” switch the minute they come to consciousness each morning and keep going till they’re ready to drop.

This afternoon as Skylar and Micah napped, Autumn didn’t, so since I was babysitting, this little girl and I had some one-on-one time. We unloaded the dishwasher together, picked up toys, played peek-a-boo, took a stroller ride, and sat in a rocker. As we cuddled there, she fell asleep in my arms, melting into a limp bundle of pudgy beauty.

I couldn’t help but study her sweet face the whole time she slept, marveling at how perfectly she is put together. Of course no one is perfect, but looking at her today, she sure did seem to be.

Looks can be deceiving, though. In Autumn’s short life she’s already demonstrated enough me-first episodes (especially during the night!) to convince us she isn’t perfect. But then again, we’re not surprised.

“Welcome to an imperfect world, little one.” (She’ll fit right in.)

Although the odds for perfection in this world are against us, life didn’t start out that way. Eden was flawless, and earth’s first citizens, Adam and Eve, probably qualified as perfect. For how long, we don’t know. Maybe an eon. Maybe 10 minutes. It certainly wasn’t God’s fault they threw perfection overboard for a blemished existence. They just didn’t carefully ponder the consequences.

Before we come down too hard on them, though, we have to admit we do the same thing. God sets out guidelines for us that have perfection written into them, just as he did for Adam and Eve. We then tweak them to our liking and step in a compromised direction without seriously considering the consequences. When we find ourselves in a mess, we turn back toward God and say, “How could you let this happen to me?”

Such an accusation is almost comical.

Lest we despair, though, he lets us know a time is coming when this unruly tug-of-war within us will end, because perfection will be part of our everyday lives. He says in 1 Corinthians 13, “When the perfect comes…” (v. 10) On that day, Adam and Eve will experience a déjà vu moment, having lived it once already, but the rest of us will be delightfully shocked when it happens. And it will, because God said so. He also said, “My way is perfect, and all of my promises prove true.” (2 Samuel 22:31)

So, what about baby Autumn? In my humble grandma opinion, she couldn’t be any more perfect. But when true perfection comes, it sure will be nice to have her sleeping through the night.

“The law of the Lord is perfect,reviving the soul.” (Psalm 19:7)

Cast your bread.

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I cut my spiritual teeth on the old King James Version of the Bible, so most of my memorizing as a youngster was done in old English. I related best to the many word pictures in Scripture, and one of them I still recite goes like this: “Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.”

Mom explained it this way: “You should throw your bread on the water, and eventually it’ll come back to you… buttered.”

That didn’t clarify a whole lot for me, but I figured if God could smear butter on wet, soggy bread and send it back, he must be an incredible guy.

I was close.

The bread-verse is simply God’s unique way of saying if we let go of something we want to control, willingly putting it into his care, he’ll eventually put it into better condition than it was when we let it go. And today I had a buttered-bread-back experience related to this little blog site.

After the Lord prompted me to start posting 3 years ago, he morphed the site into a blog that encouraged widows, then caused a widow-friend to tell another widow about it, who contacted me about writing a book. She “happened” to have influence at a publishing company and put me in touch with an editor, who coaxed me to ask for endorsements, which put me in touch with Nancy Leigh DeMoss, who today recorded a week’s worth of radio programs (with me), challenging widows to seek encouragement through my little book and offering it as the resource on her radio broadcast, “Revive Our Hearts.”

Nancy Leigh has a global listening audience of multiple thousands, which means widows all over the place will be encouraged, and suddenly I understood about the buttered-bread. Embarking on widowhood was a project I never wanted, but as the above chain of events began to unfold, my nervousness pushed me to hand the whole lot over to God (i.e. casting it on the waters), knowing that if I didn’t, I would surely make a mess.

And so it became his blog, his book, his broadcast, his everything. In my ineptness, I knew I could trust God to take care of the things I knew I couldn’t. And as he always does, he followed through exactly as he said.

The Lord is teaching me to put whatever I “have” into his care, without hesitating. But so often I waver. How come? It’s probably because I want to retain control. Of course none of us has the control we think we do, whether it’s our schedules, our investments, our influence, our children, our husbands, or anything else. We don’t control them today, and won’t tomorrow.

Maybe the smartest thing to do, then, is to throw it all on the waters and trust that the God of buttered bread will do the rest.

“Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.” (Ecclesiastes 11:1)

The Widow-Word

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I remember the first time I ever seriously considered the word “widow.” Of course I knew what it meant and defined it by the many elderly ladies I knew who were widows. But no definition of the word widow would be complete without its emotional component.

When my friend Carole lost her husband Reggie to melanoma cancer, the full force of the word began to register. After he died, I flew from Chicago to Asheville, North Carolina, to be with my good friend.

The day I arrived, she and I, along with her 7 children, drove to the funeral home to see Reggie one last time. His service was to take place the next day, so this was their final goodbye. It was a difficult hour, especially for the kids, but the room was filled with loving words and touches, a testimony to the good father and husband he was.

As we left the funeral home, Carole leaned over and whispered, “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the widow-word.”

And that’s the instant when its meaning came to life. This was my pal, a buddy through college years, teaching years, our weddings, and many babies. Her Reggie and my Nate were strong friends, and the future looked bright.

But a widow? How could we be a foursome without Reggie?

The widow-word ultimately settled in on Carole and she coped valiantly with it, but today, I no longer tag her that way. Though she’s still a widow, more so she is “my friend Carole.” She’s the same spunky person I’ve always known and is just as involved in the lives of others as she’s always been.

Now that Nate has been gone for 2½ years I can honestly say I’ve gotten used to the widow-word, too. In the beginning I hid behind it, craving time alone. Later, I worked to accept it.  Eventually the widow-word wrapped itself around me like a cozy cloak as I gratefully accepted the help and love others gave.

But these days, something else is happening. Although I’ll probably be a widow for the duration, the widow-word has relocated itself to a mental back burner. Other words are bubbling up in front of it: grandma, writer, pray-er… and daughter of God.

Though I’ve been God’s child for many years, it was widowhood that made me cling to him in new, practical ways. He is aware of each of our identity crises. He knows radical change is traumatic at best, but as always, he offers a solution: instead of identifying with the labels of this life, simply identify with him. Scripture describes (in over 200 references) what it means to be “in Christ,” and it’s all good.

Both Carole and I know, if the choice is the “widow-word” or the label “in Christ,” there’s no contest.

 “In Christ… you have been brought to fullness.” (Colossians 2:10)