Sweet, not bitter

Today was an old-fashioned work day, the kind most families have on fall Saturdays: taking down the screens, washing windows, putting up the storms, cleaning house, doing laundry and running errands. Several of the guys also installed a hand-held shower nozzle for Nate, since climbing in and out of the tub is no longer possible, and we did a thorough vacuuming (Mary did), since Jack the dog was pronounced flea-ridden. Despite the “normal” nature of a chore-oriented day, for us it was super sweet, because all 13 of us (plus 3 in utero) were together on task. Nate was in the middle of all of it, keeping up with the ceaseless activity from the comfort of his lazy-boy.

He seemed better today than he’s been in a week. The doctor believes his radiation treatments finally began benefiting him last Wednesday. Not that this is a reprieve from what’s still coming, but it’s a mini-interlude of better energy and, Nate thinks, better breathing. It’s very possible the radiation has shrunk the tumor in his lung enough to increase air flow, which has made him more comfortable, less panicky.

The best part of today was when we gathered around Nate, the star of our family show, for a group photo. As we set up the picture with our two sweet grandbabies in the line-up, I thought of the three new babies who won’t be with us until 2010, and ached to think Nate may not be in that picture. Nevertheless, we grinned and giggled for the cameras during this bittersweet moment. What good would it do to dwell on the “bitter”? Thinking about the “sweet” was what we all wanted to do.

During the afternoon as we worked, the cranberry chicken in our oven smelled better and better, promising a delicious evening meal. It had been prepared ahead of time and brought to our door by others, which made it twice as tasty.

Each evening we have a “small group” meeting during dinner. Since sitting in hard-backed chairs is too difficult for Nate’s aching back, we gather around his chair in the living room with plates of food on our laps. During the last three weeks, many glasses of milk and cups of coffee have gone overboard on the forty year old carpeting, not to mention blobs of lasagna and wayward peas. We pick up the chunks and ignore the rest, focusing instead on each other.

Now that all of us are together, our “small group” has become large, with a meandering circle of easy chairs, dining room chairs, folding chairs, stools and one very important lazy-boy. Before we eat, Nate enjoys looking around the group and choosing someone to say a prayer over the meal, once in a while choosing himself. The Spirit leads those prayers, and the words hold power.

Come to think of it, there is much more powerful praying going on around our house than ever before. Recently, while up during the night helping Nate to the bathroom, I glanced into the next room and saw Louisa bent over her Bible with her journal underneath it, pen in hand, studying, thinking, praying. It was 3:15 a.m. To see this was a sweet blessing.

When my phone ding-dongs with a new text, sometimes it’s the kids sending what they just prayed for us. Other times it’s a Scripture verse that lifts and encourages. Bibles are open throughout the house as we search for this or that promise, and our Scripture rocks sit on the window sill above the kitchen sink. God is near, and it is sweet.

“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” (Philippians 4:8)

Give and Take

My dad was a conservative Swede. Wanting to minimize risk, he decided to wait a while before marrying. When a firecracker of a young woman came into his life and proposed, he fell to cupid’s arrow and married her. He was 42, and his bride was 13 years his junior with the energy of a young kid. Even as an old lady, Mom’s incredible pace was a marvel. Dad would shake his head and say, “You should have seen her when she was young!”

When Dad grew older, he shared his thoughts on getting married in middle-age. One of his comments has always stuck with me: “Since I got such a late start, I never expected to live long enough to see my children graduate from high school.”

But God took care of that, and Dad saw his three kids graduate from high school, college, get married and bring 15 of 17 grandchildren to him. His greatest joy was studying each one and alerting their parents (us) to special character qualities he saw in them. He reminded us of the importance of new life and was a model of exercising patience with children.

“Before you judge them, look at it from their point of view,” he’d say. He relished his role as a grandpa.

Fifteen months ago, Nate and I had the spectacular joy of becoming cousinsgrandparents, too. Skylar Grace came to our Linnea and Adam through remarkable circumstances. (See Linnea’s “bio” page on her blog: www.KissYourMiracle.com ) Five months later, Nicholas Carl arrived through Hans and Katy and is now a nine month old citizen of both the UK and the US.

Eight months after that, Linnea and Adam surprised us with the news that Skylar would have a baby brother in February! And now, during this stressful month of cancer discovery and daily sadness, God has surprised us again (and also Hans and Katy) with news of twins arriving in April! And the frosting on this family cake is that Linnea’s baby is due on her sister-in-law Katy’s birthday, and Katy’s babies are due on her sister-in-law Louisa’s birthday. God’s creativity and gift-giving leaves us speechless!

As Scripture says, the Lord does take away but he also gives. (Job 1:21) To think of three new babies arriving into our family during this time, a season of adversity and mourning, is nothing but God’s lavish outpouring of blessing.

“For the Lord is good. His unfailing love continues forever, and his faithfulness continues to each generation.” (Psalm 100:5)

“Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?” (Job 2:10b)

baby twins N

baby boy C

A day of losses

Nelson and Hans accompanied us today, a pleasant variation for Nate and me. The wet, stormy highways made me thankful I could ride rather than drive. After two hospital appointments, our plan was to drive the mile to Nate’s office to visit his many friends there.

My sister had arranged for a wheelchair, but once at the curb in front of his office, Nate gathered his strength and wanted to walk his once-daily routine. We slowly entered the lobby, passers-by unaware of the significant event unfolding.

Emotionally-charged hugging began before we even got to the elevators as the security guard rushed from her place behind the counter to throw her arms around Nate. She patted him as if they were the closest of pals, telling us how much she loved him. Nate seemed to love her right back.

Stepping off the elevator on the 13th floor, we walked through the thick glass doors with Nate’s name included on the list of lawyers there. What were his thoughts? Three weeks ago, when he left the office to meet me at the doctor’s appointment that fateful day, he never dreamed he wouldn’t work again.

One by one people emerged from their offices to shake Nate’s hand, most putting their arms around him at the same time. It was “old home week,” and I watched him take it all in. Several were holding back tears. One labeled it bittersweet. Everyone knew the painful truth.

The conference room barely held us all, every eye on Nate, but we quickly fell into an easy banter. If anyone was shocked at his having become a shadow of his former self, no one let it show. I looked around the room and thought of the great differences in the many personalities there, politically, religiously, culturally and in age. Somehow this group had managed to work side by side for 19 years in a happy crowd of humanity that appreciated each other for what they had in common.

In a tender gesture, many of them wore Christmas neckties and necklaces. Nate’s legendary collection of holiday ties had allowed him to wear a different one each day in December. He appreciated the joke and mustered a smile.

Later, standing behind his desk surveying the monumental work Rob and Tom had done in his badly cluttered office, he was quiet. Again I wished I could have read his mind. When we left, I believe he knew he’d never be back. He didn’t say anything negative, but surely he was struggling with the many losses… his office, his files, his clients, his co-workers, his career, his identity, his routine and even the security guard. Although he’s had losses of some sort every day, this day was overloaded with them.

Later, back at home, Nate ended his day with the comfort of a hot bath. But one more loss was added to the day’s total when he had a fall getting out of the tub. It took three people to get him up, but we were thankful a badly bruised knee was the only damage. All of us, Nate included, are wondering what tomorrow will bring… or what it will take away. I marvel at his stoicism and refusal to complain.

When Nate was finally settled into his hospital bed for the night, his face flush with the effort to get there, we read today’s comments on the blog, as well as many encouraging emails. Quite a few of the messages mentioned Nate being a testimony of God’s faithfulness. As we prayed together he said, “Oh Lord, I’m not worthy to be a testimony of you. Please make me worthy.” When I peeked at him, a single tear was running down his cheek.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you, for I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” (Isaiah 43:1a-3a)