Playing Games

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The death of a spouse prompts so many changes and so much confusion that life can resemble the old group game “Fruit Basket Upset.” The game proceeds in a gently rambunctious manner until someone calls out, “Fruit basket upset!” At that, every person in the circle of chairs has to leap out of their seat and try to find a different chair before there are none left unoccupied.

The death of a family member is much like that, especially in the case of a spouse/parent. During a marriage, life bops along with lots going on, husband, wife and family members running here and there, meeting commitments and following to-do lists. Then suddenly the husband/father dies and it’s like the crash of “fruits” in the middle of the circle, people feeling shoved and pushed in their attempts to scramble to a “new chair.” In “Fruit Basket Upset,” this kind of chaos is fun. In life, not so much.

This morning after waking up and staring at the ceiling for a while, I got up and turned around to make the bed. Then it occurred to me that it didn’t really matter whether I made it or not. Who would care? No one was going to see it but me.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, fighting the temptation to lie back down. The first thing that popped into my head was a picture of Nate turning down his side of the bed at night time, just before climbing in. It was a good moment of every day, no matter what had happened between leaving the bed early in the morning and returning to it later that night. And he loved the idea of pulling back the covers. It was as if everything had been properly prepared for this appealing moment.

Now, of course, things are different. He won’t be turning back the covers, and I didn’t really care if the bed was made or not. Climbing into bed used to be an “ahhh” moment of relaxation and peace. Now it’s a time when the world has gone dark, the night stretches long and I miss Nate being where he always used to be. It feels like I’m in the middle of a “Fruit Basket” circle after all the places have been taken, wondering where to turn next and what steps to take.

Although we’re left without our usual, familiar places in life, none of us has really lost the game. We haven’t been eliminated as a chair-less game player would be from “Fruit Basket Upset.” It’s just that Nate’s death has necessitated writing new rules of play, and we’re trying to walk away from the “upset” part. We’d rather play a different game anyway… like, say, “Candyland”.

“Candyland” has greater appeal than “Fruit Basket Upset.” It’s a peaceful game that leaves strategy up to the game-makers rather than the game players. And the truth is, Nate has actually won it already. He’s by-passed the negatives of Molasses Swamp and Cherry Pitfall, not just to reach Candyland’s Home Sweet Home but to arrive at a whole new kingdom where the sweetest home imaginable awaited him. And there aren’t any beds to make either, because there is no night there.

As a matter of fact, this new home is “delicious” in every way, surpassing Gumdrop Mountain and Lollipop Woods by such a long shot that it’s not even on the game board.

“The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom.” (2 Timothy 4:18)

July 22, 2008

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When our granddaughter Skylar first came to be as a tiny, almost invisible division of cells, she was God’s secret, just as every conception of life is, for a while. In this case, however, the Lord must have felt a certain eagerness to share his well-planned surprise with our daughter Linnea and her husband Adam.

This young couple’s sad history with infertility (www.KissYourMiracle.com“my story”), had left them pondering life without a family. They’d excitedly talked about having children from the time of their engagement, but after months of painful, expensive tests, doctors had told them natural conception was impossible. In the midst of their grief, they decided to pray for a miracle anyway and trust God with whatever happened, baby or no baby.

Eighteen months later, when Linnea began feeling poorly while teaching her high school English classes, she never  suspected a pregnancy. But as symptoms increased and she found herself falling into bed earlier and earlier each night, a light switched on inside Adam’s head.

After a home pregnancy test produced a positive, they decided it was probably a faulty test and went back to the store for a second one, a different brand. But that one was positive, too! Reluctant to believe it, they decided to see their doctor, who did a third test in his office, another positive! But it wasn’t until they saw their peanut-sized baby on an ultrasound screen that they succumbed to hysterical happiness and believed they were actually going to have a baby. Because of physical problems and the medical impossibility of becoming pregnant, no one could explain how it had happened.

But God……

…..had plans.

While Linnea was pregnant, I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you walking on egg shells, Honey? Aren’t you afraid to breathe?”

Her answer revealed a mature faith in the Creator of their child. “Mom, this baby is totally God’s, not ours. If he decided to take him or her right now, how could I object?”

Then, on a hot July night in Florida, eight days overdue, Skylar finally arrived. She was given the middle name Grace, because of God. And what an explosion of life she was! I flew south on the afternoon they came home from the hospital, eager to meet God’s amazing surprise package. But within 24 hours we were contemplating a trip to the emergency room for all her non-stop, fenzied screaming. This child had stamina beyond our imagining!

At the time, my podunk theory was that she was an active toddler locked in the powerless body of a newborn, frustrated and unable to expend her boundless energy in any way other than crying. As silly that that sounds, it has proven true. When she began sitting, crawling, walking, running and talking, she got happier and happier.

Today she turned two, and our sparkly Skylar never ceases to delight us all. We can’t imagine life without all the laughter and joy she’s brought along with her, nor can we ever forget that God, in a show of lavish grace, sent our Skylar Grace.

To this day, medical personnel and Skylar’s parents have no idea how she came to be. Everyone agreed, “It’s totally impossible.”

But God said…..

….. “Ya think?”

“She who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:36b-37)

Return to Sender

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Each day as I gather my clipboard, pen, Bible and devotional book to have a conversation with God, I do something fun. I pick a card from my basket of mailed greetings as the “card of the day.” These are the messages people sent when Nate was ill, continuing after he died. Some are store-bought, some hand-made and some are regular letters. But the point of doing it is to make that person or family the subject of prayer.

I’ve grown to love this process, and although it seems I choose a card at random, I believe that as my hand hovers over the basket of several hundred greetings, God actually does the picking. He is thinking of specific people who need prayer exactly on that day, and those are the names on the card “I” pull.

As I re-read the card or letter someone sent last fall or winter, the words are a brand new blessing to me. But here’s the cool part. The sender’s own words become a springboard of prayer right back to them. In other words, the messages and Scripture verses they took the trouble to send to us are sent back to them by way of God’s throne room, returning to the sender with a fresh burst of supernatural power in the way of answered prayer.

At the end of that day’s prayer time, the card goes into a second basket. Once the first basket is empty (maybe by the end of this year), I’ll start all over, drawing each of the greetings again.

This is what I call a good time in prayer, and of course anyone can do it. In addition to being a little surprise package each day, it’s a surefire way not to forget anyone. I can’t explain how much I’ve enjoyed pulling the “card of the day.” And as I’ve studied just one each morning, thinking about what the sender(s) first wrote many months ago, I’ve been newly appreciative of every correspondent and each “good word.”

Today God chose a beautiful lavender card that came all the way from England. Hans’ wife Katy’s grandparents, Anne and Ken Mills, sent me a sympathy card shortly after Nate died. The words on the card, some printed and some hand-written, touched on these subjects: God’s peace, God’s promises, life everlasting, being released from suffering, going to be with Jesus after death, caring sympathetic people, hope in the Lord and reassurance of love. It was my delight to pray each of these topics over Anne and Ken today, a “return to sender” type of prayer.

God never fails to do abundantly more than we ask in prayer, and I believe he answers every request. This is even better than a 401K that receives matching funds by an employer.

And with such spectacular work on God’s part, I don’t want to miss picking a single card!

“[I] give thanks to God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you.” (Colossians 1:3)