October 25, 1974

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Many people look at our second-born, Lars, and see Nate. Of all our children, Lars most closely resembles him, and interestingly, they’re much alike in personality, skills and temperament, too. All of this pleases me greatly.

Lars is our numbers man. He’s on top of sports stats, check books and my bank records. Since Nate was my original numbers man and I knew I’d flounder badly without him, I was relieved when Lars said “yes” to stepping into his father’s record-keeping shoes for me. His patience with my inept skills is an enormous credit to his character as he’s welcomed my questions and helped me sort through some of the paper trail every widow must face.

Lars astounds me (and everyone else) with his boundless energy and unbridled enthusiasm for life. He’s been high-wired since childhood and has the gusto of four people. Watching a ball game with him is to be entertained as much by his “calling” of the game as by the game itself. When he’s around, the pace quickens; when he’s missing, his absence is palpable.

After his college years in Azusa, California, Lars stayed our west to sell insurance and fell in love with San Diego. But when Nate got sick, he quickly transferred to an office in the Chicago area, making himself available to help and remaining close to his father throughout last year’s ordeal. All of us have been thrilled he’s back in the area after basing so far from the Midwest for 15 years.

One of his perks in returning home was to be close to his favorite sports team, the Cubs. He’s been locked on hope for them since he was old enough to toss a ball, but then Lars has always been a guy who rooted for the underdog. And speaking of dogs, when other kids got puppies and kittens as pets, Lars opted for turtles, snakes, fish and lizards. I remember his awe when he discovered a lizard had the ability to grow a new tail if he lost his original. I also remember the day Lars came running into the kitchen carrying a yard-long snake shouting, “Mom! Can I keep him? Here… pet him! He’s so smooth!”

But the day his favorite pet died (a ten-inch long, red-ear slider turtle), I thought the world would come to an end. Ten year old Lars wept as he knelt and buried his pet in my flower garden. He and I talked recently about digging it up, since by now it would be just a beautiful shell, a reminder of his valued companion.

Lars’ middle name, spelled in the Swedish way, is Kristian. On the day he was born, his grandpa, my father, penned a note which I’ve kept in Lars’ baby book these 36 years. Part of it reads: “May Lars Krisitan grow up to be an influence for good in a troubled world and be worthy of his name.” At the tender age of four, Lars invited Jesus into his life and today still stands by that experience as genuine. He is well-named, and we know beyond doubt that God was good to us on October 25, 1974.

“From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another.” (John 1:16)

Single Mom on Campus

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Parent Weekend at the University of Iowa with Birgitta was meaningful and successful. When a family has seven children, one-on-one time with any of them is a treasure; one-on-one with the baby of the family is especially important, since she grew up in a crowd. The two of us had a good time, although together we missed Nate.

As we walked the brick streets of Iowa City on a balmy October evening, we talked about him. “He was gone before I decided to come to this school,” she said. “He never knew.”

“I think he does,” I said. “And if he knows, he’s very happy about it.”

Nate loved education and was energized by the process of helping a highschooler chose a college. He got excited about visiting schools and read all the literature they sent to prepare us. He liked studying course catalogs and especially liked learning the histories of each college.

Birgitta said, “If he’d been with us this weekend, he’d have been educating us about this university, all the things he already knew that we didn’t.” True.

The two of us enjoyed sharing what we each thought he might have been saying as we passed different buildings and attended the different functions of the weekend. We agreed he would have spent time upstairs in the Old Capital building at the center of campus (now belonging to the university), studying the college archives and museum rooms.

Birgitta didn’t say it, but she could easily have been thinking, “As the youngest, I got gypped. The older ones had a dad until they were in their 30’s. I lost him at 19.”

But of course none of this was ours to orchestrate, not her position in the family or Nate’s passing away before she went to college. God has reasons for arranging these things as he did, and our role is simply to trust that he is wise, even if frustration results from how it all unfolds.

Birgitta and her father do have one university experience in common, though. When Nate was only 13, he began researching which college he would some day attend. During one of his high school summers, he looked seriously at the University of Iowa, where a summer school debate clinic was being offered. Because he was the captain of the debate team, he opted to attend. So he lived and studied at Birgitta’s school, walking the same brick streets and sitting in the same classrooms.

As Parent Weekend progressed, our conversation led to the what-ifs. What if Nate had never gotten cancer? With resignation, both of us acknowledged the difficult truth. Pushing through the many activities with a bad back would have been nearly impossible.

Even if he’d had no cancer, this weekend would surely have been a one-parent event. His desire to attend would have been strong, but excruciating pain is a last-choice travel companion. I don’t like being a single mom, especially after having had a partner at every other Parent Weekend. But the old adage, “receive what you’re given,” turned out to be a good guide for me. What was given was three days with my daughter celebrating her good choices, and conversations of gratitude for her father… who would have been extremely proud of her.

“A heart at peace gives life to the body.” (Proverbs 14:30a)

The Journal: A While in Denial

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Although a year ago Nate’s bad back was forcing him to deal with a boatload of trouble, the cancer diagnosis didn’t surface until the end of September. Symptoms of its secret presence were evident much earlier, but none of us knew its name.

When Nate began losing weight, which might have been a clue, we attributed it to his lessened appetite because of increased pain in his back. Then he began receiving compliments. “You look good! Losing weight?” Having put on quite a few middle-age-pounds in recent years, he enjoyed the accolades and decided to work at losing more, taking smaller portions and eliminating desserts.

When he continued to lose, we were both proud of him. I said, “You men are so lucky. One little dietary change and the pounds melt away.” How could something that looked so good be so insidious?

In August, when he began complaining of a stomach ache, which was probably his pancreas immediately next to the stomach, even his back doctor agreed it was probably the pain meds irritating him. The solution was to change his prescription.

When extreme exhaustion swamped him and he trudged up the stairs to collapse on the bed by 7:00 PM, he credited his age. “I think this is just what mid-sixties feels like,” he said.

When he developed a wisp of wheezing at the end of each breath, we labeled it “stress”. When he ran an occasional fever, he asked for ginger ale and said, “I should have gotten a flu shot.”

The mind is a complicated piece of equipment. One of its best tricks is to filter bad news through a screen of let’s-ponder-that-later. And both of our brains bought into every logical reason for dismissing cancer’s symptoms.

It’s not all bad that we spent a while in denial. When bad news comes crashing in, the brain has work to do and needs a buffer zone in which to do it. This week I learned via email of a good friend’s new cancer diagnosis. After my gasp in front of the computer screen and a spontaneous rush of sadness for him and his family, the only thing to do was pray. “Lord, give him the courage to accept the truth as soon as he can. Cause him to take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself with his family and others because of his cancer.”

Among all the  negatives that cancer is, it’s also something positive: a fistful of opportunities. I look back at Nate’s six weeks of coping with his cancer and marvel at how quickly he accepted his “fate” (tomorrow’s blog) and determined to finish well, even while undergoing intense emotional and physical upheaval. His actions and comments were calm, so much so they could only have been inspired by God, who supplied the know-how Nate needed.

For those who understand death is coming soon and who desire to honor the Lord through it, I believe God supernaturally supplies. And that stands true not just in cases of cancer but in all life-threatening circumstances. Being suspended in a period of denial might be more than just a place for the brain to do the work of adjusting. It might also be God’s place to ready people to accept their new harsh reality.

And once acceptance occurs, even while disease is killing, new opportunities are being born.

“Blessings shall come upon you and overtake you, if you obey the voice of the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy 28:2)