Yearly Archives: 2009

Christmas is coming.

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Do we decorate for Christmas this year? I’m not sure. Decking the halls doesn’t seem appropriate, because bringing out brightly colored ornaments doesn’t fit well with grieving.Santa Nate, best

Yet I see the lights of the season and find them comforting. How many Decembers have Nate and I sat near the Christmas tree late at night, talking in the warm glow of the colored lights? I can feel his arm around me even now as I remember, and can almost taste the spiced tea we used to drink with our stocking feet up on the coffee table at the end of a busy day.

Now I’m someplace new for the holidays, a different house with a different living room, and no specific spot where the Christmas tree “always goes.” Before we moved earlier in the year, we annually committed decorations gluttony. Our small cottage couldn’t handle it all, so I gave away half. Now I look at the 13 boxes left and realize their presence in the house is creating a dilemma.

While running errands yesterday, I pulled into a nursery displaying 100 Christmas trees set in neat rows. As I stood in the middle of that man-made pine forest, I couldn’t muster up even a smidgen of Christmas spirit. But this afternoon a realtor friend stopped by to see how I was doing. During our conversation he mentioned a neighbor of his, “out in the country,” who sells Christmas trees. “You have to cut your own, but if you choose an imperfect one, she’ll discount the price.” Should we buy one?

As one of my widow friends counseled, “Many times in the next weeks you’ll come to a decision point. Ask yourself, ‘What would Nate do?’ It’ll help you decide.” We’ve already experienced this. After Nate died, our seven children and two in-law kids gathered to ask, “What happens next?” It was a question with several answers due to our recent move. Which town? Which cemetery? Which funeral home? Or a church? A memorial service? A funeral? A private or public burial? During the discussion, every question was quickly answered by asking another one: “What would Papa want?” The rest was easy.

So here we are at the holidays with a new set of questions, and God keeps bringing to mind one particular Bible story. King David’s baby boy was terminally ill, and he couldn’t help his little guy, despite having power and riches. David was beside himself with grief. He wouldn’t eat or bathe, wouldn’t change his clothes or leave the house, slept on the ground, wept continually and begged God to let his baby get well. But the baby died.

Afterward, David accepted the death as God’s will, knowing his son was healed after he died. The king got up, washed, ate and was emotionally strengthened enough to comfort others who were still mourning. I think God put this story into my head to remind me again that just like David’s child, it was God’s will Nate not recover from the cancer, and it was his will he go to heaven to receive his healing. The Lord has also reminded me of the many blessings surrounding Nate’s life and even his death. The cancer concluded in a way we wouldn’t have chosen, but because we continually committed Nate to God’s care and keeping, we know God’s choice, which was Nate’s death, was for the best.

Christmas card pic 1990

So, about the decorations, we don’t even need to ask, “What would Nate do?” We’ll simply rejoice in the birth of Christ, maybe more so this year than ever before. After all, he’s the One who opened heaven so Nate could enter in. And if decorations add joy to the season, then we will decorate.

“’Is the child dead?’ [David] asked. ‘Yes,’ they replied, ‘he is dead.’ David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate. ‘While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again’?” (2 Samuel 12:20, 22-23)

“On those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned… For to us a child is born, to us a Son is given. He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:2, 6)

What God has joined together…

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One of Nate’s wise sayings was, “When you cry, it lets the sadness out.” Today some of my sadness came out. It wasn’t actually a “letting” though. It came out, even after I tried to stop it.

It was the beginning of a fresh week and almost the beginning of a new month. My goal was to dig into paper work that had been piling up. One “hot” item was the health insurance bill. It was due, and I knew I needed to make a change in the policy, now that Nate was gone.

After the insurance company made me wait on hold for 22 minutes, a real person finally spoke. “Policy ID? Name? Birthdate? Zip code?” She had irritation in her voice before I’d said a word.

When we finally got the formalities out of the way, she said, “How can I help you?” She said it as if she hated her job.

“My husband has passed away,” I told her, “and his name is still on the list of the insured. I’ll need to make a change.”

She must not have been paying attention, because then she asked, in an edgy tone, ”What kind of a change?”

“My husband doesn’t need health insurance anymore, because he has died,” I stated.

“Oh,” she said, and then she paused. Her voice melted into softness, and she said, “So you want to terminate his policy?”

With those words and her sympathetic voice, I started bawling. The poor girl could hardly go on with her script because of my boo-hooing, but in the end, she got the job done.

“Thanks for helping me,” I said, as we concluded. ”My husband used to take care of all this, and I’m trying to learn a lot at once.”

“I understand,” she said softly. “You’ll be getting a refund in the form of a check, and I do hope you can have a nice day.”

I sat and cried after we hung up, trying to figure out what had set me off. I’m learning there are two kinds of crying after a husband dies. The first is grief, and the second is self-pity. This morning I was crying from grief, I believe. The thought that Nate would never again need earthly health insurance was a power-packed reminder he was really gone. He had been a hawk about insurance and was generally over-insured. My terminating his policy went against his values and caused me to break down.

This afternoon I ran several errands, one of which was to the post office. The lady behind the desk in our small town knows of Nate’s death and asked, “How are you doing? I know it’s the same old question, but it’s a good one. How’s it going?”

“Some days are ok and others aren’t,” I answered but then hurried away before new tears could spill out. Those tears, I believe, were the poor-me tears of self-pity, and the minute I determined that, the crying stopped.sunset 8

On my way home, a beautiful sun was setting, so rather than go straight back, I turned early and headed for the lake. Sitting in the car facing a gold and aqua sky, the tears started again. Maybe it was still about the health insurance policy or maybe it was the beautiful music playing “Great is Thy Faithfulness” on the radio, but I cried and cried, wetting six Kleenexes. Just as Nate used to say, some of the sadness was coming out.

I’m certainly not the first person to lose my husband to death. I don’t have young children to raise alone, and my life is relatively settled. But the old adage about a spouse being “my other half” becomes true after a couple has been married for decades. When two married people have grown to become one, it’s hard to go back to being two singles minus one. Nothing adds up right after that.

“A man will… be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one… what God has joined together.” (Mark 10:7-9 parts)

14,584 Days

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How do you celebrate a wedding anniversary with only half of a couple? Today, November 29, Nate and I would have been married 40 years, but we were short 26 days.

wedding rings small

We met on a blind date back in 1966. Although it was winter in Chicago, I was wearing only underwear beneath my coat – risky attire for a good first impression. My girlfriend had promised to set me up with a good-looking college senior she knew (at a different school than mine). She called late one night, after I’d stuffed most of my wardrobe into the washer and was sitting in my flannels, reading on the bed. “We ran into Nate at the ice cream parlor,” she said, “and he wants to meet you…now!”

I complained about her poor timing but pulled on my navy “dress coat” and buttoned it up to the chin. As I met the man of my dreams, his first words were, “May I take your coat?” He asked three more times during the evening, but I resisted as we ate our chocolate sundaes.

My friend later told me I’d been unfriendly and cold. “You wouldn’t even let him take your coat.”

“Actually,” I said while unbuttoning, “here’s the reason.” She looked at my underwear and burst out laughing.

Forty years and seven children later, Nate had also learned the truth about our blind date. He never forgot it and always got nervous when he asked me, “May I take your coat?”

That funny beginning set the tone for our marriage. Even on serious days, there was always something to smile about. Today was no different. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a note slipped under our bedroom door. Louisa had penned encouragement around a picture of the two of us. “I want to re-state what you always encouraged me with: ‘The Lord heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.’ (Psalm 147:3) Like you said, Mom, ‘It’s a promise!’ I miss Papa like crazy, too…” Smiling through tears, I felt a twinge of healing.

Just to be safe, though, I tucked several Kleenex between the pages of my Bible for tears during church and got ready for another difficult “first” without Nate. Much to my surprise, though, I never needed the Kleenex. Instead I sat in the service thinking of the great blessing of our 40 year marriage. Nate and I had only six weeks of warning before our earthly partnership ended, but what a tragedy it would be to dwell on the sadness of those 42 days rather than the fullness of the other 14,584.

Nate’s desire was to be with me today to celebrate our anniversary together, and if he’d had a choice, he wouldn’t have “left”. I remember him telling the Hospice aide, Lori, that our anniversary was coming. She asked how we usually celebrated, and he told her, “Dinner at a fancy restaurant for a big slab of prime rib.” She must have known by his condition he wouldn’t make it to November 29, so, unbeknownst to us, she went to work that day planning an anniversary surprise. But Nate surprised us first and went to heaven less than a week later.

wedding cake kiss, small

The day after he died, Lori stopped by our house to pick up some Hospice things and give me a hug. She told me then that after she’d left us the week before, she’d contacted Nate’s favorite local restaurant telling them our story and asking if they would deliver two prime rib dinners with all the trimmings to our house the next week. The restaurant, never having delivered a meal anywhere but to their own dining room, agreed to do it, also volunteering to absorb the cost. The surprise was scheduled for that Friday, but Nate died on Tuesday. Just the thought of such kindness (Lori’s) and generosity (the restaurant’s) has been a blessing.

My best anniversary gift, however, came directly from God, in two parts. The first was his complete healing of Nate by taking him to heaven and releasing him from all his pain. The second was the promise he made to me during this morning’s worship service:

“I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness. I will take hold of your hand. I will keep you.” (Isaiah 42:6a)