You just never know…

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Mom was born in 1912. Arriving several weeks prematurely, she was the fourth baby in her family. Because she was tiny, the doctor told her parents, “Don’t give her a name. She’s not going to make it, so you don’t want to get too attached.”

But Mom fooled everybody; she lived to be 92. You just never know…

Our firstborn nearly died at nine months with a case of croup we thought was just laryngitis. When he couldn’t sleep for all the coughing, we called the doctor, who sent us to the hospital. En route, the baby went limp, his eyes rolled back, and we were terrified.

Thanks to quick, discerning doctors, he lived, and after four days in the hospital, he slowly recuperated. When it was all over, Nate and I fell apart, realizing how close we’d come to losing our little guy. You just never know…

Fast forward to last year, when Nate and I relocated to Michigan. His plan had been to work full time until 2011, then subtract one work day each week for the next five years. But “untimely” cancer arrived, and 42 days later, our plans were shelved. Nate had died “ahead of schedule” at 64. We hadn’t planned on that, but you just never know…

None of us ever knows. The biblical character Methuselah lived to be 969 years old, but then King David’s new baby died.  Not one day is guaranteed to any of us. When we were born, God didn’t promise old age. Yet we find ourselves angry when someone is taken “before their time.” If they’ve died, though, it was their time. We just can’t know, because God doesn’t tell.

The Bible describes long life as a blessing, and everyone seems to want it. God sometimes rewarded righteous behavior by extending a life. Today, for those who passionately want to increase their time on earth, Scripture gives the how-to: obey everything God says.

At least five times the Lord plainly advises that keeping all his commands, decrees and statutes, and living by his wisdom, will lengthen life. We can’t know from what original end-date he’s computing that, but if we believe the Bible, obedience definitely brings additional time.

Mom was thankful for her long life and lived each day vigorously. But in her last years she often said, “Old age isn’t for sissies.” Troubles of all kinds pile high on the elderly, weighing them down with woe, and she was no exception. Maybe that’s why the genuinely righteous are the only ones who get their death-dates bumped; God knows that in order to handle those burdensome days, great stores of wisdom and godliness are a prerequisite. When we seek longevity, we’re signing up for the toughest challenge of our lives.

You just never know…    But then maybe it’s better that way.

”No man has power over the wind to contain it; so no one has power over the day of his death.” (Ecclesiastes 8:8)

Hide and Seek

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Most TV game shows are a study in psychology. No doubt a group of psych majors create competitions to outfox contestants by side-stepping their probable responses. I recall one game, however, that was straight forward and simple. The host walked through the audience waving a hundred dollar bill, looking for a willing participant.

Once he chose a woman to play, he might say, “Do you have a wooden match in your purse?” (…or a picture of a baby or a deck of cards?) If she produced the item he asked for, he’d hand her the $100. Occasionally someone would empty her purse right there on camera, flinging lipstick and keys in the laps of those nearby, frantic to find the winning item.

People say a woman’s biography can be written by the contents of her purse: pictures, pills, a wallet, money, make-up, pens, a phone, a key ring, glasses, receipts, a camera, gum, candy, credit cards, a comb. Each item has been carefully selected to be in the purse, and therein lies the biography.

This morning I needed some Post-it notes and opened Nate’s dresser drawer to get them. Although I’ve given away many of his things, the three top drawers in his high boy are exactly as he left them. And just like a woman’s purse, they say a great deal about who he was.

If you’re curious, read on: a lint roller, a hunting knife (in a leather case), a knife for filleting fish (also in a case), business cards (his own and others), three shoe horns, four pairs of black shoe laces, shirt collar stays, current contact info for our children, his watch (still ticking), one of my watches (not ticking, needing repair), 3×5 and 4×6 cards (for his Sunday notes to the kids), prescription glasses and their cases, a commuter train schedule, three pocket knives (small, medium and large), a tiny eyeglass fix-it kit, a gold tie clip with NIXON on it, pens galore, pencil lead in several sizes, refills for ball points and fountain pens, and a Wordless Book Gospel bracelet with a printed explanation of each colored bead.

As I fingered the items, everything inside of me nodded in recognition of my husband. The bottom line of his biography? Nate kept no secrets.

What if I’d found a bit of pornography hidden in the back? Or maybe an envelope of secret cash? There might have been mysterious phone numbers or names or web addresses.

Instead, every item made complete sense. Although Nate couldn’t have predicted that the contents of his drawers would be listed on the World Wide Web, he had nothing to hide. The list is clean.

Sometimes we operate as if we can hide things from God. In addition to stuff in our purses and drawers, we try to conceal the contents of our minds, a ridiculous sham. God can’t be deceived, tricked or conned. He sees it all.

I’ve asked myself, “Would I be happy with the contents of my drawers being listed on the web?” And more importantly, “Am I satisfied God is observing the thoughts in my head?” He says that one day everything hidden will be spotlighted, so this surely is food for thought.

Tonight I put everything back into Nate’s drawers, glad to know he was exactly who I thought he was: a man of upright character. And this fact offers sweet widow-comfort to me.

“There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.” (Luke 12:12)

Learning the Lingo

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Before I became a widow, I heard from many friends about the nightmare of paperwork that follows a spouse’s death. Some wives have been privy to this part of the marriage all along, naturally skilled to understand it. Most, however, are like me with talents in other areas. “He always took care of that department,” they say. Sadly, that translates to hours and hours of climbing a steep learning curve once their men are gone. And that’s me.

Today I told Louisa, “I have four mountains to climb,” meaning four online, data-related jobs to accomplish in partnership with the World Wide Web. The thought paralyzes me. I’ve figured out how to post blogs, but beyond that I’m in a foreign land without an interpreter.

Back when computers were new, when Nate and I were both green at emailing, we’d practice on each other. He’d send me quick one-line messages from the office, bringing me up to date on who he’d seen or what he’d learned that I might have found interesting. I’d do the same from home.

If he got an email from one of our kids, he’d forward it to me and preface it with a line or two: “From San Diego at noon. Lars is a good boy.” The email might have been a simple thank you from an adult child to a dad. Used like this, computers became our friends.

Since Nate died, however, my computer and I have entered a love-hate relationship. I love keeping up with our former world in the Chicago area, setting up visiting dates, reading blog comments and receiving prayer requests and answers. But oh the effort to get along with institutions: insurance companies, medical offices, government agencies, universities.

Although 800-numbers are tricky to find on web pages these days, when I finally do reach a human, the song and dance is always the same: “It’s easy! Just right-click on this, left-click on that, hover-over-this-other and voila! Done!”

Maybe for you.

My computer refuses to speak my click-language.

So much of success is in learning the right lingo. That’s true in my relationship with computers and also with God. When I talk to him, am I speaking his language? If I say, I don’t need you; you’re old-fashioned; you might be wrong; I control my own destiny, nothing good will come from those words. It’s like right-clicking when it should be left.

The key to being heard by the Almighty is to use the correct language. I’m sorry; please forgive me; I love you; come into my life; I want to obey you. When we click on the right web page instructions, good things happen. When we approach the Lord in the right way, the heavens will open.

I’m still learning God’s lingo, and he remains willing to teach me. I hope with practice, I’ll improve at communicating with him. I do know I’ll never give up trying.

Something else I won’t give up on is trying to learn the language of computers. Maybe I can find a Geek Squad willing to rent my empty bedroom.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” (Psalm 19:14)