Back to the Hospital

Posted on by

Today I met with one of my friends in the Chicago area, Dr. Ross Abrams. Although Nate has been gone nearly eight months, my occasional conversations with his doctor have continued to be a blessing to me.

Dr. Abrams is a very busy guy, the number one man in radiation oncology at Rush University Medical Center, yet he graciously gave me a chunk of his day in an unhurried manner. This was a valuable gift.

We talked about how Nate fought with cancer but not against it, how he accepted his terminal diagnosis with remarkable calm. Dr. Abrams has watched every one of his pancreatic cancer patients die of this fatal disease, noting how some accept their “fate” early-on while others never do. We wondered aloud what happens within a person to make them ready to die, to be so sure of it they confidently refuse further treatment. He’s observed that a personal faith in God is usually present when someone peacefully accepts death’s imminence, saying, “I believe Nate was a man of strong faith.”

We also talked about our marriages and their great worth, mentioning the importance of this institution. We agreed that one of the keys to a long marriage is to determine up front that neither will look for an escape hatch when rough patches come but will work to resolve the problem. Sweet rewards await those who remain committed.

As Dr. Abrams put it, “Once we make any commitment, obligations quickly follow, but we learn there is great satisfaction in fulfilling our obligations to each other.” Amen to that.

He asked about our children, wondering how they were coping with losing their father, which led to a discussion of the differences between suffering and sadness. We decided suffering involved coping with continual pain or damage, enduring ongoing loss. Sadness, although just as real, is more about mood and is prone to improvement as emotional healing takes place. Dr. Abrams is an expert on both, having witnessed much of it in his patients and their families.

We talked of our grandchildren, his seven and my five, acknowledging the pleasure of this season, and he showed me a new family photo in which all 17 wore black and white. I called it “a treasure” because they were all there with no one missing. The last Nyman family photo didn’t include Micah, Thomas or Evelyn, yet unborn. Our next picture will include them but not Nate. Dr. Abrams nodded knowingly.

We continued our conversation, talking about trusting a God who sees our lives from beginning to end, all at once, desiring to bring good to each person. Because we as humans see only the past and the present, it’s difficult to trust there will be good in the future when “bad” (as in cancer) dominates the now. Dr. Abrams referenced an Old Testament verse and I quoted from the New Testament, but we agreed that this one God has said the same thing to both of us.

When it was time for the doctor to move back into his medical day, we left the office with a handshake and a promise to share another conversation down the road. Here’s a quote from the blog post he wrote for this site on April 19, 2010: “My internal definition of ‘being a doctor’ require(s) being regularly involved in caring for other human beings” (as opposed to lab work).

Today I was the recipient of some of that care and as a result have moved forward one more step in the healing process. Thank you, Dr. Abrams.

“Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.” (James 1:27)

Sticky Fingers

Posted on by

It’s been a day of changing the cottage from a toddler environment back to that of a single adult. As I took the junior chair, bathtub toys and rattles back to the basement, my thoughts were with my daughter’s family while they winged their way back to Florida. Putting baby shampoo, the bottle brush and bottles back in their storage bins, I could almost hear Skylar’s encouraging voice: “Good cleaning up, Midgee!”

I thought back to my own days of young motherhood when I would visit Mom, kids in tow, at her orderly home set up for two adults. When she first found out she was going to be a grandma, she emptied a large cabinet and went garage-sale-ing for toys to fill it. “I want my grandkids to have fun when they come to see me,” she said.

Her wish came true. Our children and everyone else’s had a blast at Grandma Johnson’s. She encouraged all of us young moms to attend the Bible study at the church across the street, offering to babysit for our mob of little ones. We took her up on it, and when we’d return several hours later, worrying that she might be exhausted, we’d hear her say, “Back already?”

Time flew, because she was having fun.

After our kids had pulled every toy out of her cabinet, Mary and I would always stay to pick them up, encouraging our kids to help. But Mom would take them from our hands and plead, “Oh, let me do this after you leave. I have such a good time thinking back on the morning.”

“But it’s such a mess!” we’d say.

“But it’s a happy mess,” she would counter, “and I love it.”

I remember one morning when Mom took care of several of our kids and made chocolate chip cookies with them. Two year old Klaus had deposited a smudgy chocolate hand print on her white door at toddler height. Before we left I reached for a soapy rag to wipe it clean, but she stopped me. “Don’t touch that. It’s just darling.”

The next time I visited, she had drawn a square frame around the messy hand print and written “By Klaus,” along with the date. Another “happy mess.” I’ll be glad if I can be half the grandma Mom was.

Today I found some precious art-prints of my own. Four month old Micah had loved sitting on the kitchen counter in a blue Bumbo while he was here, watching us prepare meals. Yesterday I had set the Bumbo (with him in it) on the counter next to the glass cake dome, and he’d gently thumped it with his hand, the way every uncoordinated baby does. This afternoon when the sun hit that glass, half of the dome was covered with tiny prints this little guy had left with his dimpled, drool-soaked fingers, and I experienced the same rush of grandma-love Mom must have felt when she’d seen  Klaus’ chocolate hand print.

I confess to washing Micah’s art work off my cake dome today, but not before I mentally “framed” his creation in my memory. Maybe when he visits next, we’ll try to bake chocolate chip cookies together.

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged.” (Proverbs 17:6a)

And now they leave…

Posted on by

Recently it’s been lively at our normally quiet cottage. That’s because Linnea, Adam, Micah and SKYLAR have been here. Neighbors have told me, “We love hearing your granddaughter’s adorable voice.” That tells me the volume has been high enough to travel through our screens and into theirs. Actually, as I’ve been waking up each morning, Skylar’s enthusiastic life-commentary has moved out the open downstairs windows and into my bedroom windows above, making me smile before my head has left the pillow. Her parents would agree with my assessment that she is a cheerful, LOUD child!

But Skylar and co. get on an airplane tomorrow morning, and I’ll come home to a very quiet house with no Skylar in it. I could cry already.

Skylar’s ongoing dialogs (and monologs) captivate me: “Oh. Jack sneezed. God bless you, Jack. Daddy is so cute and cuddly. How are you, girlfriend? I like spaghetti sauce. There’s a boo-boo on my knee. We go to the beach with sand and waves and rocks and bubbles. Mommy loves me.”

This little chatterbox is not yet two years old but never runs out of words. Her lilting voice and sparkling conversation have kept us laughing and happy, and I can’t imagine how much I’ll miss her.

Today Louisa, Birgitta and I had the fun of caring for big-girl Skylar and her baby brother most of the day while her parents had a well-deserved day off. Since Skylar never walks but always runs, the first thing she did was take a header onto the hardwood floor, absorbing the blow with her nose. Despite the swelling and bluish color, she plowed through her day with merriment and unbounded enthusiasm. As we walked around the neighborhood together, she identified the houses where Jack’s doggie friends live, remembering what each looks like. When he threw himself down on a lawn for a roll, Skylar shouted, “Happy dance! Happy dance!” and followed his lead.

She entertained the toddlers in Sunday school, expounded on the joys of a McDonald’s Happy Meal, read me a book at nap time, swam at the beach, and struggled up the dunes “by myself” singing “Climb, climb up Sunshine Mountain.” When I’ve heard her say, “I want Midgeeeee!” it’s been better music than any ipod favorite. I wish she wasn’t going!

I know every grandparent feels this way about their grandchildren, which simply proves what a good idea God had in setting families up this way. Just when we parents are beginning to feel our age, here come children-relatives who move us into a second childhood and bring good old fashioned fun along with them.

Without Skylar here, I wouldn’t have made sand cakes and topped them with black chocolate chip stones, or filled jars with colored water. I wouldn’t have sung my favorite childhood choruses, or danced in circles while blowing bubbles through a wand. Picking up dog poop wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun without my inquisitive audience, and I wouldn’t have acted out the story of The Three Pigs. Skylar was the inspiration for all of it and much more.

As they leave, I’ll try to remember what Nate often said: “Receive what you’re given.” I was given 18 days with Skylar and her family, and that gift will be my warm fuzzy for a long time.

“Marry and have children. Then find spouses for them so that you may have many grandchildren. Multiply! Do not dwindle away!” (Jeremiah 29:6)