A Fresh Look

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This afternoon the slanted sunshine of winter spilled through our windows. While the rest of the country gathered chips and dips in preparation for the Bears-Packers game, I decided to do something different: paint a couple of stools in the bright sunlight. They’d been primed for six months awaiting their finishing coat, and today was as good a day as any.

Though I don’t have TV, I could have listened to the game on the radio but chose worship music instead. Following football might have been a better idea, however, because when Nate’s favorite hymn, “Blessed Assurance,” came on, I got weepy. Even bright sunlight doesn’t help watery eyes see brush strokes very well.

Bagging the brush and picking up a hymnal, I decided to follow the words as the familiar song played. “Visions of rapture now burst on my sight. I in my Savior am happy and blest. Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine!”

Although these words had run through Nate’s mind hundreds of times, their meaning for him now is completely different, more authentic, tangible. Something about that struck me. He was far away experiencing a life radically different than mine. We had much in common until 15 months ago, but now we share very little. Today I’m painting stools. What is he doing?

Sitting in front of me on the coffee table was the book my kids gave me in September, the story of Nate’s life in pictures and words. As precious old hymns played, I read through the book again, feeling intense sadness that Nate was gone. It’s been quite a while since I cried hard, but as I carefully studied his face, especially in the most recent pictures, holding back sobs was impossible.  

Oh to go back! I really miss him. Did I love him enough? Had I put him first? Could I have done more?

I… I… I.

It was self-pity for sure, which doesn’t do much for healing. If anything, it produces inertia. My crying was a good reason to ask God, “What would you like me to think right now?”

He answered with something he’d already told me. “Rejoice always. Pray continually. Give thanks in all circumstances.” (1 Thessalonians 5) I was thankful he brought that up again and gave me something positive to do immediately. Focusing back on the book, I continued weeping but this time found myself rejoicing in the picture-memories and being thankful for all Nate did as a husband and father.

When I came to the photo of Nate sitting in a wheelchair with severe pain on his face, I cried hard remembering his suffering but was enormously thankful for how courageously he bore his pain, a great accomplishment.

As the Bears and the Packers battled it out on the other side of Lake Michigan, the Lord and I sat together for two hours, listening to hymns, rejoicing, talking in prayer and remembering Nate with thankfulness.

Tomorrow, as the Bears nurse their wounds, I’ll finish painting the stools.

“My heart rejoices in the Lord! The Lord has made me strong. There is no Rock like our God.” (1 Samuel 2:1a,2b)

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

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God knew what he was doing when he led Nate and I to our Michigan cottage. Unbeknownst to us, the couple right next door would rescue us again and again. Bob and Linda have taken it upon themselves to help widows and others who need… well… just about anything.

Linda cooked monster-sized meals for our whole family throughout Nate’s days of illness. Then after he died, she lovingly coaxed me back into the world of people by repeatedly inviting me to her Bible study.

Bob is a jack of all trades and cheerfully tackles any problem with gusto. He often partners with his friend Gunnar, and the two of them make work look much like play. I’ll never forget the day they came to help when our power went out, the only house in the neighborhood to go dark. After trying all the usual tricks with our old fuse box, they discovered the power line from the house to the street had been strangled by tree bark. Thanks to their creative thinking, my power was restored that same hour.

 

Yesterday afternoon Bob and Gunnar brought my kitchen into the 21st century by installing a dishwasher. After five weeks of dishes-by-hand virtually around the clock while the 15 of us were together, I determined before the relatives returned, I’d have a dishwasher. It’s also possible the endless sickness we passed back and forth during those weeks would have been wiped out by sterilized dishes. At least that was a good excuse to go appliance shopping.

As they worked, I learned that installing a dishwasher requires creative plumbing and electrical skills, as well as a rib cage strong enough to lean on the sharp edge of an under-sink cabinet for a long, long time.

Occasionally I heard them say, “Oh oh,” or “What about this?” as they worked half-in and half-out of the cabinet. But when I asked if there was a problem, they laughed and said, “It’ll all be fine.” And it was.

The first time Bob and Gunnar fixed something for us years ago, I remember saying, “Thanks for the help. I’m sure you’d rather do other things with your afternoon.”

“This is what we like to do,” Bob said, an interesting answer.

Because they’ve solved problems for me again and again, I know it’s true. These men are retired, but not really. They’ve just shifted their work focus. Both love the Lord wholeheartedly and spend a great deal of time volunteering at the church and on outreach projects near and far.

They’ve been first responders to disaster scenes all over the world during their “retirement”, doing whatever needed doing when they got there. Although they’re happy to help the widow next door, they keep their passports handy, too. 

I see them as the hands and feet of Jesus, putting the interests of their neighbors ahead of their own. And best of all, they view the entire world as their neighborhood.

Lucky for me, today they chose to make it a beautiful day in my neighborhood.

“Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself’.” (Matthew 22:37-38)

Frozen Solid

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Here in the Midwest we’ve come to the part of winter we call the deep freeze. Moving from December to January is the difference between a cold refrigerator and a bitter-cold freezer. In December I can leave a can of Coke in the car overnight, and it’ll be delightfully cold for errand-running in the morning. In January it’ll be a Coke-brick.

Weathermen cheerfully tell us tonight’s wind chill will be fifteen below zero, which means when I’m walking Jack just before bedtime my nose will stick together and gloved fingers will sting. People my age who plan ahead are often settled in Arizona or Florida by this time of year, having forgotten all about down-filled coats and fur-lined boots. The rest of us are learning the definition of “hearty” and are finding out whether or not we are.

 

Today I decided to pick up the red Christmas welcome mat lying outside my front door. But when I grabbed it, it was stuck to the flagstone, frozen solid. Forcing it would have either ripped the rug or given me a bad back.

I could have flooded the area with boiling water, waited for the rug to thaw and then pulled it up just before it froze again. But that would have left the front step a danger zone of slippery ice. The wisest choice was to admit the time wasn’t right to pick up the rug and to wait for a thaw in the weather.

Most of us can “force an issue” prematurely with expertise. In the category of parenting alone, I can think of many examples. We force our kids to eat their broccoli, floss their teeth and read their Bibles before they’re ready, never giving them a chance to choose these good things on their own. We coax them to take music or sports lessons they may not want, and we promote friendships they don’t enjoy. We push them toward colleges they didn’t choose and are sure we know who would make the perfect marriage partner.

Our skill at doing things too soon also spills into our spiritual lives. We succumb to the temptation to tell God what he should and shouldn’t do in our lives based on what we see at the moment. Most often it’s to our benefit if he doesn’t comply but acts instead on his own long-range view.

Even as we pour out our needs to him, we should do so with caution, knowing we might be getting ahead of ourselves. We may say, “Give me traveling safety, Lord,” while he’s planning to use our upcoming fender-bender as a useful teaching tool.

We may get stuck wondering why God doesn’t give us our way, why the proverbial “rug” won’t come off the frozen ground right when we want it to. He’s probably just waiting for our hearts to thaw. When they finally do, and when he deems the time is just right, the “rug” will lift with virtually no effort at all.

As for my red welcome mat? I guess I’m ready for Valentine’s Day.

“God catches the wise in their own craftiness, and the schemes of the wily are brought to a quick end.” (Job 5:13)