Category Archives: Thankfulness

A Meeting of the Minds

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When Nate and I had been married for three years, Nelson was on the way, and we knew life was about to change radically. So when I was six months pregnant, we decided to take a trip to Italy, figuring it might be our last chance. It was just the two of us, although technically Nelson came, too.

We rented a little Renault and roamed the country for two weeks, from Rome to Milan, having the time of our lives. As we left, we vowed to return.

Nate had been a history major in college, and he never met a fact he didn’t memorize. His knowledge of world history lit a flame of desire to travel to the places he’d studied as a student, but everyday commitments (and his big family) gave him a different journey. In recent years, however, time to travel began coming into focus.

Then his health failed.

Gradually he realized his dream to visit historical sites wasn’t going to come true. He said, “Even though I never got to go to the places I’d hoped, at least my kids have seen the world.” He was referring to the five who’d been on mission trips, several of them literally circling the globe.

I feel sad he missed out on so much and wish I’d worked toward at least one historical tour. Our good friend Erwin Lutzer leads tours in Europe, and one of them had a strong pull for Nate: the Reformation Tour.

He talked longingly about that itinerary, hoping to go. Having grown up in a Lutheran Church, he’d read much about and by Martin Luther and actually knew the contents of the 95 theses. He would have relished seeing the church where they had been presented.

This morning as I thought about Nate’s unmet travel goals, God sent immediate comfort in an interesting way. Out of “the blue” came this thought: “You can stop bemoaning that Nate never took the Reformation Tour, because he knows Martin Luther personally now and has gotten the whole thing directly from him.”

How silly of me, dreaming about earthly pleasures for a heaven-dwelling Nate! That’s like bouncing a five year old on my knee and saying, “Now isn’t that much better than Disneyland?”

Many years ago I taught our little children to sing the Sunday school chorus, “My God is so BIG!” They internalized the message easily, ascribing all the good parts of “big” to God, with childlike faith. If we adults would enlarge our view of the Lord and his kingdom, we’d spend much less time regretting and much more anticipating.

So as good a guide as Pastor Lutzer is, I think Nate has probably lost interest in joining his Reformation Tour.

”Blessed are those who die in the Lord from now on. Yes, says the Spirit, they are blessed indeed.” (Revelation 14:13b)

The Rat Race

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When Nate came out of law school in 1972, he was hired by the trust department of American National Bank in Chicago’s Loop. I was glad to be moving back to the Chicago area, and he was thankful to be starting his career in a big city.

I remember the day we bought his first briefcase, a plain black leather model with expandable pockets and niches for pens.  We waited while the shopkeeper embossed Nate’s initials near the handle, and from there we went and picked out a new suit.

After he began working, I loved walking from our second-floor apartment to meet him at the train each evening. Picking him out from a sea of suit-clad, briefcase-carrying commuters never failed to make my heart flutter. “Oh, there’s mine!”

He loved going to work and made friendships during those first years that were still current when he died 37 years later. But as the decades passed, Nate began to label his work routine a “rat race.” Career goals, once met, had been withdrawn, and his enthusiasm had waned.

Work was a means to an end, and he lived to come home. The luster had gone from boarding the commuter train and parading across the Loop with others running the same race. Yet he never wavered in his commitment to go. Even after the tumultuous collapse of his real estate company, he didn’t stay home even one day but rented a single-room office downtown, arranged for a phone, packed his briefcase and went to work.

When we moved to Michigan, his commute time doubled. But ever an advocate of riding trains, he daily boarded the South Shore Line for a journey from Michigan to the Loop. Amazingly, he didn’t mind, despite low energy and serious back pain. He took the 6:20 AM train to work the day we received his cancer diagnosis, and the next morning, against all logic, he climbed on the train again.

Jesus never experienced the pressure of a fast-paced commute with masses of people, but he definitely knew stress. His response was to decompress with the Father, separating himself from others and pulling close to his Sustainer. Amazingly, that same stress-reducer is available to us today with the identical benefit. Jesus successfully dealt with the burdens of his life by sharing them with God, and we can do the same. The invitation still stands. If we choose to go-it-alone, we step away from our most valuable resource.

Today I traced Nate’s commuter footsteps back into the rat race, riding the South Shore train to the Loop. Realizing the enormity of his commitment to continue commuting and working, I was emotionally moved while bumping along the rails.

What I did today took effort (finding the schedule, watching the clock, driving 19 miles to the station, waiting for a parking spot, hassling with the ticket machine), but he did this daily. I was making the journey for recreational reasons, but he did it to meet the demands of a pressure-cooker job.

My admiration for Nate’s willingness to run the rat race for his family knows no bounds. And it’s nice to know he has finally decompressed 100%.

“Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God.” (Luke 6:12)

Mother of Others

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Mary, Tom and I were blessed with a mom who turned life into a party, not always using the sound reasoning of an adult but making perfect sense to children.

For example, in the fifties when we’d go to the dentist, each of us would have multiple cavities not having had the benefit of fluoride. But after each dental appointment, because we were “so brave,” she’d walk us across the street to the candy store.

Mom made life good. She allowed as many pets as we wanted and gave us the freedom to roam the neighborhood. She let us strike matches, use the sharpest knives on our Halloween pumpkins and climb onto the roof “just to see what birds see.” She invited each of our grade school classes to our house for lunch every school year, let us set our own bedtimes, and if we asked her to read a story, she’d read and read until we finally said, “Ok, that’s enough.”

But having the funnest mother in the neighborhood had a down side to it: we had to share her.

I remember bristling as a grade school child when other kids flocked to Mom. Mary and I even talked about how it felt to be ranked with the masses, responding with childish self-focus to the dilemma of having a popular mom. But once we became mothers, we realized we’d been observing a woman using her gifts just as God intended. Jesus said, “Let the kids come.” Mom was just following his example.

Every child was priceless to her, and she experienced deep pleasure in loving them. The apostle Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.” (1 Corinthians 13:11)

Not Mom.

Even as an adult, she thought like a child, and truth be told, she never put away childish things. That’s why she was a kid magnet. She was “old” and yet “one of them.” They trusted her as a BFF (Best Friend Forever), and she never let them down.

Isn’t that parallel to why we’re drawn to Jesus Christ? He became “one of us,” experiencing life as we know it. Though he’s actually far superior, he lowered himself into our way of life, willing to endure hardship and fight temptation exactly as we do. And best of all, he can be completely trusted. He’ll never let us down.

Mom was the best-of-all-possible-worlds for a kid. She had the power of an adult (a driver’s license, a house with a kid-friendly basement, money in her purse). Yet she retained the heart of a child.

Jesus is the best-of-all-possible Saviors. He has the power of divinity (the ability to forgive sins, victory over death, the key to heaven). Yet he retained a heart as “one of us.”

Mom gave fully of herself, which made for many happy childhoods. But Jesus gave fully of himself, which makes for eternal happiness!

Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 18:3)

[Below, Mom-style good times in just several months. And where is she? Behind the camera.]