Category Archives: Thankfulness

Basement Blessings

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When I was 22 and single, I shared a small Chicago apartment with 3 roommates. Marti, Marsha, ClarLyn and I lived together in two bedrooms with one bathroom in perfect harmony.

I didn’t know any of them when I moved in but had heard they were three incredible young women looking for a fourth. Teaching school in Chicago’s Austin area, I was eager to be independent, so I moved in with them.

Our tidy apartment on the near north side had several unique features, one of which was a flight of down-steps immediately inside the front door. Another was iron bars on the ceiling-level windows. But we got a healthy break on the rent because it was a “garden apartment.” (Think basement.)

None of us minded living below ground level, because our basement was full of blessing. Relationships were good, laughter was plentiful and adventures were numerous. Looking back on those days, I can’t think of one negative.

Today I found myself back in a basement of blessing, the little basement beneath my cottage. It has needed my attention for 7 months, and on a 98 degree day, this cleaning chore I’ve put off indefinitely became coolly-attractive.

Although I anticipated bringing order to chaos, I didn’t anticipate uncovering blessings in the process: I found a big bag of groceries (non-perishable), cassette recordings of our preschool children, and the fiction book that convinced me to be a writer (in 7th grade).

“Raw” basements like mine have taken a bad rap. The dark, cave-like atmosphere most people dislike turned out to be a blessing to me today, a comfortable escape hatch from the heat. It was the perfect combination of staying cool while still getting something done.

How many other disguised blessings have I missed by avoiding the basements of life? These would be the low places no one wants to go, places that are emotionally cold and dark: hospital wards, funeral homes, poverty-stricken neighborhoods, homeless shelters, courtrooms, soup kitchens.

The highschoolers from our church just returned from a trip into these places, courageously participating in one uncomfortable situation after another. Stretching themselves to the limit, they made an effort not just to help those they found in life’s low places but to learn what it’s like to be there in the first place.

The report they brought back to the congregation was less about what they’d done for others than what others had done for them. In short, they came home carrying unexpected blessings found in life’s basement places. They also discovered that Jesus had beat them to these places and was busy unearthing blessings well before they arrived.

All of them learned it’s good to go to the basement.

My cottage basement blessings are small by comparison to those the high school kids found last week. But even tonight I’ll be enjoying still one more: a cool, dark night on a basement futon.

“Better to be lowly in spirit along with the oppressed than to share plunder with the proud.” (Proverbs 16:19)

Beaching it

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Today the mercury reached for the 100 degree mark on my kitchen thermometer as it did in much of the country. Without AC, my two best options were the basement or the beach. No contest.

Floating in the cool water looking back at the sand dune, I thought about Nate’s last beach visit. In the summer of 2009, just before we learned of his cancer but well into his back pain, Mary and I wondered if we should leave him to go to the beach that day. He was settled in his favorite chair at the cottage, his back resting on an ice pack, with his two favorites next to him: the newspaper and a mug of coffee. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

It was a coolish summer day, so Mary and I settled into our low beach chairs away from the water line at the base of the dune. Thirty minutes later, we were surprised to see Nate struggling down the sand, coffee and newspaper in hand. I was delighted and jumped up to get him a chair.

“You came!” I said, knowing the 10 minute uphill hike to the beach must have taken a toll.

He didn’t last long, but I admired the way he wanted to participate, despite substantial pain. Surely the cancer was secretly doing its damage by then, and his misery must have been extreme. Did he sense that day’s beach trip might be his last?

When life gets raw and options narrow, most of us cling to life’s ordinary things. If we suspect death might be coming, we adhere to our regular routine as if that might hold it back. A perfect example was the morning after Nate heard the words “terminal, pancreatic, stage 4, metastasized.” He got up and went to work…. as usual.

If we had even a blurry picture of what awaits us after cancer “wins”, we’d rush to our death beds. It may be psychologically healthy to hold onto our earthly lives, but heavenly-speaking, it’s absurd.

As Nate neared the end, he had one foot in each world. He held onto the commonplace, newspapers (unread), coffee (undrunk) but finally settled into his hospital bed like a beach-lover fits into a comfy beach chair. Peace enveloped him as he gradually curtailed his involvement with the ordinary and committed to the extraordinary.

Today as I looked at that little dune, I found the memory of Nate’s last visit to be sweet and felt deep satisfaction in knowing he’d been moved from the comfort of earth’s regular routine to the glories of eternity.

And it happened as smoothly as slipping into a cool lake on a hot summer day.

“Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death.” (Isaiah 57:2)

Keeping Track

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This month I’ve been invited to 5 happy weddings, but my deficient left-brain has had trouble keeping track. Which wedding is when? And where? Did I RSVP? Did I do it in time? Which stores hold the gift registries? Did I get a gift? And if so, where is it?

Because I don’t know how to make a wedding grid on Microsoft Word, I’ve created my own system.

As the invitations come in, I put them on my dresser where I see them daily. (Never mind their use as coffee coasters or ballpoint-starters. They’re in front of me, and that’s what counts.)

After RSVP-ing, I jot that down on the invitation, making sure to mark whether I said “yes” or “no”. As I learn of the gift registries, I write store names at the bottom. When the gift gets purchased, I describe it along with its store and whether or not it was purchased on-line. These primitive scribbles are my meager effort to keep track, despite turning those elegant invitations into doodling papers. (My apologies to the brides and grooms.)

Even with my new system, however, something just slipped through the cracks. Trying to be efficient, I ordered two gifts simultaneously from Crate and Barrel for two separate couples, both to be mailed to me. They arrived in the same big box, an immediate challenge, but my invitation-note-taking helped me label them. I went to the first occasion toting the right gift, but now it’s time for the second, and I can’t find it.

I did find the sparkly gift bag I’d bought for it, along with its matching tissue paper but can’t locate what should be wrapped inside. Remembering I’d tucked it safely away before the floor-sanding, I searched in every probable spot without success. It’s difficult to try to think like a scatterbrain when you’re the scatterbrain.

And so I ended up where I always end up: in front of the Lord. “You can see that gift, Father. Won’t you please show me? It’s not like I’m asking for myself. It’s for the bride and groom. Surely you want me to find it.”

And usually in these losses, he doesn’t help me. Why is that?

I’ve figured out one possible reason: each episode is a fresh chance to appreciate anew that he never loses track of anything, not the wedding gift….  and not me.

And the other side of that coin is this: although lots of things get hidden from my sight, the one thing most precious to me will never hide…

…and that’s him!

“He has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help.” (Psalm 22:24)