Lightening the Load

The Mayo Clinic doesn’t generally do weekend appointments, so there are no new test results to report today. But the arrival of Nelson’s brother Lars from Chicago yesterday gave all of us a boost. Nelson, Ann Sophie, Will, and Lars are spending the holiday weekend at cousin Luke’s beautiful home 80 miles north of our apartment, where Luke continues to anticipate each need and stretch himself to meet it. He’s one of a kind.

During these days, all of us are sensing God’s close presence. Looking back on the week just ended, we see evidence of this dotting the days. One moment in particular served to sweep away disappointment and substitute joy.

Nelson, Ann Sophie, Will and I were together in an exam room listening to two experienced doctors describe what was going on in Nelson’s body. They came to the hard part about the places where cancer has taken hold, and the air became heavy with sadness.

But just then, baby Will decided to answer nature’s call, and with one quick grunt accompanied by lots of explosive noises, he filled his diaper.

 

All five of us burst out laughing—right in the middle of the sadness. Nelson said, “We call him the Authentic Man. He doesn’t hide anything from anyone.”

Sometimes silly moments like this are God’s way of showing us He’s nearby. And if we’ve been given too much to bear, he’ll lighten our load.

Come to Me… My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28 & 30)

To Be Understood

Toddlers fascinate me. Children between the ages of one and three can be more fun to watch than a good movie. As they begin to walk, explore, and taste new foods, they do it all with captivating charm. But my favorite is to recognize their first bits of language, parroting what they’ve heard while trying to form words their tongues haven’t tried before.

Little by little they begin to put words into sentences. “My do it. That mine. Me want that.”

A few years ago, I remember asking one of my toddler grands a question. “Emerald, did mommy fix your pretty hair today?”

Her response was, “I think it is.”

Close.

But I understood what she meant, and that was good enough.

The same is often true of our conversations with God. He might say, “Will you do what I’m asking?”

And I might answer, “I think it is.”

What do I mean? Maybe it’s, Yes, I’ll do it, or Yes, but maybe later, or Yes, but not in the way you’re asking.

No matter how I answer, God knows what I mean. In a sense, that’s good, because all of us long to be understood. But does it go both ways? How good am I at understanding him?

I remember with Emerald that as she first learned to talk, I often failed to understand her. That produced frustration in both of us. Eventually I learned to say, “Show me.” She would take my hand and lead me to the subject of her words, and that helped.

It’s interesting to note how important words are to God. One of Jesus’ names is the Word. But amazingly, he uses words much like we do – although each of his words packs a power ours never could. Because of that, we ought to pay close attention to every word he says and try our best to understand him — and respond appropriately.

Toddlers eventually learn to talk so everyone can understand. No more guessing. I do confess, though, that sometimes God’s words to me can still be confusing. When they are, my best response is to figuratively take his hand and say, “Show me.” And he will.

“As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like.” (Luke 6:47)

A Surge of Joy (con’t. from yesterday)

Weeks after I’d misplaced the church key, I was dusting my dresser top while struggling to hold half-a-dozen things. Picking up more items as I pushed the dust cloth along, I accidentally nicked a full glass of water, toppling it. The swoosh was so forceful that the water knocked a dozen pairs of earrings off my decorative dresser tray, across the dresser, and onto the floor—like bowling pins smacked by a heavy ball.

The water flowed under the lamp and splashed over an embroidered makeup case. It soaked a stack of important papers and a clean, folded shirt. One quick move had morphed into a 20 minute clean-up.

Tossing my armload of stuff on the bed, I ran for a bathroom towel, chiding myself for such a blunder. Once the worst of it was mopped up, I spread out a dry Kleenex and began hunting for wet earrings. Three were missing their mates, so I began crawling around on the soggy carpet, feeling for these tiny items. One, then two popped out of the shag, but where was the third? Would I have to squeeze myself beneath the dresser to find it?

Under this particular dresser I store extra packs of wet wipes, the kind used for sticky toddler fingers and messy diapers. With my cheek pressed on the carpet and my arm stretched as far as it would go, I could barely touch them. But one by one, I pushed them aside. When I moved the very last package, there was the third earring—leaning on the church key.

I grabbed that key, scooted out from under the dresser, and clutched it to my heart as if it was the Lord himself. “God! You did it! You showed me!” and I started crying, a mix of astonishment and delight. God Almighty had directly connected with a hapless old woman to give her back what she’d lost.

 

As I cried there on the wet carpet, both hands protecting the key, I realized again that God is aware of my every need and will meet each one, eventually. He’s on my side and is always willing to help.

After I got hold of myself, the key and I walked to the computer screen and removed the $5.00, putting it in my purse for Sunday’s offering. After all, it was God who directed me to find what was lost, so the reward belonged to him.

I think I know why God put so many stories in the Bible about lost things being found. Though a wave of sparkling joy had surged through me when I saw that key, it probably can’t compare to the joy that surges through him every time a seeking soul finds him.

Jesus said, “I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (Luke 15:10)