The Footprints We Leave

Posted on May 8, 2011 by Margaret

Singer Steve Green wrote a song that speaks of the generation before us living high-road examples of faith:

Those who’ve gone before us line the way,
Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary,
Their lives a stirring testament to God’s sustaining grace.

I look back to my four grandparents, and although three of them had “gone” before I was born, they left footprints of lives that were “stirring testaments to God’s grace.” Each of them lived through severe hardship, yet letters we found were proof of strong relationships with the Lord.

The one grandparent I did know, my mother’s mother Signa, died when I was three. I have only a handful of memories, but she did two significant things for me. She raised my mom, and she was a faithful witness for Christ.

Signa came to America from Sweden as a young girl and married a widower whose 26 year old wife had died of pneumonia leaving him with a baby boy. Signa saw a need and stepped in to help when little Everett was 3, marrying into motherhood in 1908.

After Signa and Ed had been married 5 years, Everett died in a school yard accident, crushed by a heavy iron gate that fell off its hinges. At that time, Signa had given her husband three additional children that were ages 4, 2, and 1. A 4th and 5th child would follow. But death struck a second blow when another son died at 6 months.

Our Mom remembered standing next to her father as this baby brother died in his arms. Overcome with sorrow, Signa had left the room, unable to bear the sight of a second child passing away.

Signa struggled with asthma most of her life, necessitating leaving smoky Chicago during summer’s heat. Her husband, together with 5 other men, bought a cottage in Michigan, and as school let out, Signa left for “the country.” She took her brood of 5 and also the 6 children of a widowed relative. Without benefit of electricity or running water, Signa cared for 11 children by herself from Memorial Day to Labor Day.

When school resumed, she shipped the children home to her husband and stayed alone in Michigan until the first frost. No doubt this was a nourishing time for her, and the photo shows a worn-out but joyful Signa (on the right) enjoying a day at the beach with a friend.

Signa dealt with the stranglehold of the Great Depression, her husband’s diabetes, and eventually his terminal cancer. She was also concerned over one of her children who was epileptic, keeping her “at home” throughout her life. Signa died in her sleep at age 69, her faith in tact and her witness strong.

The chorus of Steve Green’s song could very well have been Signa’s prayer for the generations to follow:

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful.
May the fire of our devotion light their way.
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey.

Signa was quietly remarkable, and I hope she knows the footprints she left have indeed inspired us. That’s because the steps she followed were those of God.

“I’ve followed [the Lord] closely, my feet in his footprints, not once swerving from his way.” (Job 23:11)

Mother of Others

Posted on May 7, 2011 by Margaret

Mary, Tom and I were blessed with a mom who turned life into a party, not always using the sound reasoning of an adult but making perfect sense to children.

For example, in the fifties when we’d go to the dentist, each of us would have multiple cavities not having had the benefit of fluoride. But after each dental appointment, because we were “so brave,” she’d walk us across the street to the candy store.

Mom made life good. She allowed as many pets as we wanted and gave us the freedom to roam the neighborhood. She let us strike matches, use the sharpest knives on our Halloween pumpkins and climb onto the roof “just to see what birds see.” She invited each of our grade school classes to our house for lunch every school year, let us set our own bedtimes, and if we asked her to read a story, she’d read and read until we finally said, “Ok, that’s enough.”

But having the funnest mother in the neighborhood had a down side to it: we had to share her.

I remember bristling as a grade school child when other kids flocked to Mom. Mary and I even talked about how it felt to be ranked with the masses, responding with childish self-focus to the dilemma of having a popular mom. But once we became mothers, we realized we’d been observing a woman using her gifts just as God intended. Jesus said, “Let the kids come.” Mom was just following his example.

Every child was priceless to her, and she experienced deep pleasure in loving them. The apostle Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.” (1 Corinthians 13:11)

Not Mom.

Even as an adult, she thought like a child, and truth be told, she never put away childish things. That’s why she was a kid magnet. She was “old” and yet “one of them.” They trusted her as a BFF (Best Friend Forever), and she never let them down.

Isn’t that parallel to why we’re drawn to Jesus Christ? He became “one of us,” experiencing life as we know it. Though he’s actually far superior, he lowered himself into our way of life, willing to endure hardship and fight temptation exactly as we do. And best of all, he can be completely trusted. He’ll never let us down.

Mom was the best-of-all-possible-worlds for a kid. She had the power of an adult (a driver’s license, a house with a kid-friendly basement, money in her purse). Yet she retained the heart of a child.

Jesus is the best-of-all-possible Saviors. He has the power of divinity (the ability to forgive sins, victory over death, the key to heaven). Yet he retained a heart as “one of us.”

Mom gave fully of herself, which made for many happy childhoods. But Jesus gave fully of himself, which makes for eternal happiness!

Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 18:3)

[Below, Mom-style good times in just several months. And where is she? Behind the camera.]

Risky Business

Posted on May 6, 2011 by Margaret

When Mom was in her mid-80’s, she wanted to drive from Chicago around the south end of Lake Michigan to her summer home, staying as close to the water as possible. The rest of us doubted the efficacy of her idea, an old lady driving through dangerous neighborhoods for no important reason, but we knew Mom.

She was going to do it.

She asked if any of us wanted to accompany her, and although many of us said, “Sure!” there were always reasons why it wasn’t a good day. Then Mom got tired of waiting. She left her home in Wilmette, 25 miles north of Chicago, and threaded her way south along Sheridan Road, Lake Shore Drive and route 94, enjoying a lake view all the way.

When she got to Gary and Hammond, she had trouble staying close to the shoreline because of the steel mills but said she never lost sight of the water (questionable). She finished her drive to the Michigan cottage on routes 20 and 12, accomplishing her goal.

Naturally we lectured her after the fact, but half of her joy was in showing up the rest of us. When I asked if she’d been nervous anywhere along the way she said, “Be friendly to people, and they’ll be friendly to you.” Who knows what she encountered.

Dad was accurate when he said, “Your Ma is a risk-taker.” When it involved our children, however, we cringed, like the time she let our preschoolers drive her car by having them crawl under her feet and push the break and gas pedals with their hands. Or the time she sent two 2 year olds to the beach unaccompanied. We found them playing in the lake.

Another time she took our 4 and 5 year old girls to Chicago’s Adler Planetarium. Once inside the building, she remembered their snack bags in her car.

“Grandma’s tired,” she said, plunking down on a planetarium bench. “Here’s the car keys. Remember where we parked?” The two little girls headed down the wide steps and into a massive parking lot in downtown Chicago in search of snack bags. I can’t even list the multiple risks she took in doing this.

Recently some friends and I talked about risk-taking in relation to aging. As the years pile up, most of us get cautious, eliminating risk wherever possible. Guaranteed safety becomes more and more attractive, and without our realizing it, the world shrinks, along with many positive possibilities.

We agreed it’s a good idea to fight this natural shut-down, forcing ourselves to take at least minimal risks. We should keep driving in busy cities, going out after dark, trying new foods, meeting new people, traveling to faraway places. But how?

By factoring in God. We’re supposed to trust in his care. But will he come through if we’re risking too much? He wants us to walk in wisdom, which is usually somewhere between wild risk and none at all, a difficult place to live. I think its called moderation.