Running On Time

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Yesterday I came across a coupon that expired last month. It had been good for a full year and was worth $8.00, but I didn’t know we had it. The title read, “NICTD CONFIRMATION OF A LATE TRAIN.” Google let me know that NICTD stands for Northern Indiana Commuter Transportation District, and it was clear what had happened.

Nate and I moved from Illinois to Michigan on June 11 of last year. The very next morning he drove to Michigan City, Indiana, and boarded what would become his daily commuter train for Chicago’s Loop. Although the ride was twice the length of his Illinois commute, he didn’t seem to mind. Grateful to have finally sold our Chicago house after four years of trying, the longer travel time to work didn’t bother him. That is, until it got too long.

Although Nate often bragged about the punctual Chicago trains, apparently the NICTD didn’t have the same “track record.” Many late trains coaxed them to put a coupon system in place that offered passengers a pay-back for extreme tardiness. Along the side of the coupon it reads, “60+MINUTES LATE.” Now that’s a woefully overdue train.

The cross-shaped punches in Nate’s coupon indicate he was on board this “at least 60+ minutes late” train on his fourth commuting day, returning to Michigan after work. With his back in severe pain by then and his body suffering from hidden pancreatic cancer, he must have been beyond miserable while the train sat on a track neither here nor there.

I can tell from Nate’s oversized handwriting on the coupon that he was also angry. He did follow instructions, though, to “Please print clearly.” Well, at least the “Please print” part. I don’t know why he never redeemed it for the price of his train ticket. Although $8.00 wasn’t big potatoes, he was probably going after it on principle. When someone contracts to be on time, they should be, and each ticket purchased is a mini-contract.

Nate was always on time. If he was late for anything, it was because I had something to do with it, an aggravation during our early years together. He was right to be punctual, and I was wrong to be late. But as married people learn to do when compromise doesn’t work, one partner gives in. And Nate did. I wish I’d tried harder to pull myself together.

But God was watching, appreciating Nate’s desire to be on time. I say that because God is never late, and we are to emulate him. He usually waits until we think he’s already late, but when he comes through, it’s spectacular. In this, he’s trying to teach us, teach me, it’s important to be punctual.

Those who’ve mastered punctuality on earth have already stockpiled some treasure in heaven. Nate gets double credit for his efforts, because he sacrificed his own desires to put the interests of his wife ahead of his own. But both “early people” and “late people” get some time-related perks in paradise. The “earlies” will never again have to struggle with the “lates”, and the “lates” will always have the time they need.

“I trusted in thee, O Lord. I said, ‘Thou art my God. My times are in thy hand’.” (Psalm 31:14-15a)

Look-alikes

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Today I was rummaging around for one of those snap-shut eyeglass cases to protect sunglasses in a beach bag. Since Nate was always careful with his glasses, I looked in his top dresser drawer, and sure enough, there were five snap-shut cases, just the way he left them. One had reading glasses in it. Two had prescription sunglasses. One was empty, and the fifth surprised me. Inside was a small, shiny pair of scissors.

Although Nate occasionally complained about the noise and debris of his school-age children, he didn’t nitpick his adult kids. There was one exception, however. Over the years he couldn’t hang onto a small pair of scissors he kept in our bathroom medicine cabinet and blamed different kids for its repeated disappearance. Eventually he’d always head for Walgreens to buy another one.

Today I discovered how he’d permanently solved the dilemma. He’d bought a scissors and hidden it in a glasses case, which made me laugh. But why did he want tiny scissors anyway?

In all the years we were married, although I often heard about his scissors disappearing, I never asked what he was cutting. Now I know. Tucked in with the scissors was a tiny comb resembling a Barbie doll accessory. It reminded me of something that happened at a wedding reception three years ago.

A young girl came up to us as we stood chatting with another couple, balancing our appetizer plates. Although we didn’t know her, she asked to take Nate’s picture. Would he mind? His quizzical look made her finish his thought. “…because you look just like Donald Trump!”

As I took his appetizers from him, Nate reluctantly agreed. The young photographer asked him to point his finger as if he was saying “You’re fired!” Nate did, albeit without enthusiasm. The rest of us enjoyed the moment much more than he did.

On the way home, he talked about the girl and her photo. “I hope it doesn’t turn up on the internet.” But my surprise came when he added, “I get that all the time downtown.”

“You get what all the time?” I asked.

“Get taken for Donald Trump.”

And that, I decided, was what the scissors and mini- comb were all about. When his brows got too bushy and the likeness became strong, he’d trim and comb them neatly. He wasn’t interested in being taken for Donald Trump.

Folklore says everybody has a double somewhere. I don’t believe it, because God is creative enough not to have to “ditto” anyone. But the concept of doubles is intriguing. Celebrity look-alike contests abound, and the side-by-side photos do grab our attention. Some people even develop flourishing careers based on looking and acting like someone they’re not.

In reality, each of us is exactly who God made us to be.

And he wants us to be ourselves, but makes one exception. He gives permission, actually urges us, to become look-alikes of somebody: him. Although we don’t need a scissors or a mustache comb to develop the resemblance, we do need something much more difficult to acquire: a non-stop attitude of sacrificial love.

Now… if only that were available at Walgreens.

“Imitate God… in everything you do, because you are his dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ.” (Ephesians 5:1-2a)

Perfection

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It’s hard to be perfect at anything. No matter how we try, our efforts are flawed. But when I was a kid, I got to be perfect at one thing: Sunday school attendance.

In the ‘40s and ‘50s, our church involvement went well beyond sitting through one hour-long worship service. Sunday school came before church, followed by a “fellowship time,” followed by “real” church. Since my family lived in the Chicago suburbs and Moody Church was in the city, we left home early and returned mid-afternoon, often heading back later for an evening worship service.

Nevertheless, many of us chased after perfect attendance. If we ventured out of town, a diligent search was made for an acceptable local church to attend. And it wasn’t good enough just to sit through a church service. In order to get attendance credit with our home church, we had to be present at a Sunday school hour, too. Then we proved that by bringing home a note from the vacation Sunday school, preferably written on their church letter-head.

If we successfully attended Sunday school for 52 weeks in a row, we received a gold and enamel brass bar attached to an attendance pin. Each new year came with a fresh chance to win another bar.

Although some Sunday school attendees continued to pursue perfect attendance even after high school, most of us figured going off to college closed the door to any additional bars, which is not to say we didn’t remain at least sporadically faithful anyway.

What made us want to attend Sunday school every single week of the year? In the beginning we were obedient little children just following orders, but that evolved into the fun of coming together with pals, which then grew into forming long-term friendships (and quite a few marriages).

As small fry we also loved the flannelgraph Bible stories and the teachers who taught them. During our teens we were coaxed to ponder life’s hardest questions and watched closely as our leaders lived out their faith in front of us. Many of us still point to these Sunday school teachers and youth pastors as important mentors in our lives. They encouraged us to “walk the high road” rather than take the easy route with instant gratification.

But the #1 motivation toward perfect Sunday school attendance was all about a person… actually three people. As we showed up week to week, we grew to know and love (1)  God our heavenly Father, (2) Jesus our personal Savior and the mysterious but powerful (3) Holy Spirit who, amazingly enough, was willing to live within us if we asked him. And because of these three, we learned that in God’s hands, even life’s negatives eventually yield blessings.

Whether or not we find perfection in any category on this earth, the Trinity has offered to provide eternal perfection to all who believe. And we don’t even have to attend Sunday school to get it.

“Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of [Christ’s] return is drawing near.” (Hebrews 10:24-25)