Monthly Archives: January 2010

Facing a Giant

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Looking out our front windows through a grid of icicle-bars, I saw three flashes of color dart past. Cross country skiers, right on the streets. With seven inches of fresh snow, they were taking advantage of winter on our unplowed roads. An hour later, as I was shoveling the drive, they glided by in the other direction. “Spectacular, isn’t it?” one of the women shouted as she passed me.

Once I got to the grocery store, employees chatted enthusiastically about the blessing of a good snowfall. “Please let me take your cart out for you,” the bagger said, grabbing his jacket. “I haven’t been outside for a while and want to get back in the weather.” This was a bagger-man in his sixties whose enthusiasm was impressive.

As a new Michigan resident, I was gaining insight into my fellow Michiganders, people who’ve dealt with the challenge of winter every year. Watching the bag-man wrestle my cart through deep drifts in the parking lot, I coaxed him to complain. “Will you have to do a lot of shoveling when you get home?”

“I love to shovel,” he said, with a dip of his chin. “What would life be without a challenge?”

The man had missed his calling. Instead of bagging groceries he should have been running a think tank. Of course he was right about life’s challenges, although most of us avoid them. That’s probably because taking up a challenge can end badly, not to mention the pain that can be involved. There is also a high probability of failure.

I love the biblical story of the warrior Goliath taunting the whole Israelite army. His specific challenge was for them to send one individual to “come and get him.” It was a double-or-nothing dare after which the loser’s army would become slaves to the winner’s army.

David couldn’t believe any Israelite would shrink back from Goliath’s challenge. After all, Almighty God was on their side! He didn’t even have to think about it but went after Goliath with fervor. The Bible says, “As Goliath moved closer to attack, David quickly ran out to meet him.” (1 Sam. 17:48)

Since he was just a “ruddy-faced boy” (v. 42), we could conclude he was motivated by the foolishness of youth and didn’t know any better. But David knew enough, that the God of Israel controlled everything, including a nine foot tall ogre.

We all know the happy end of this story, how David’s one smooth stone embedded itself in the evil giant’s forehead, knocking him flat and giving David time to rush in and kill him with his own sword. A giant-sized challenge was accepted and dominated, and for the rest of his life, David was a hero.

Although I never met David, I do know another hero I very much admire, my husband Nate. He was presented with a challenge few people on this earth are given: militant cancer along with a death sentence that would conquer his life in a few weeks. Most men would have run from this enemy like the Israelites ran from Goliath. Some might have exited the fight altogether by denying reality. Others might have railed against God for allowing the battle in the first place. Nate did none of these.

In my eyes he was a hero in that he squared off with the challenge presented to him. Although he responded to the appalling cancer news with shock and revulsion, before long he said yes to the challenge. Throughout his combat with disease, he was required to move in and out of acute pain physically, emotionally and mentally, as well as bear up under anguish of heart. Yet he didn’t shrink back or even ask why. Instead he asked, “Why not?”

One morning about half way through his 42 days of cancer, I asked him how he was feeling after a rocky night. Instead of answering me directly, he answered like a man in the midst of a battle. “Well,” he said, “we soldier onward.”

Some might say, “Yes, but he lost the fight. He died.”

To them I say, Nate won the ultimate prize, knocking death flat just as David knocked Goliath flat. He used death as a stepping stone into a joy-filled eternity, conquering his giant-cancer-challenge in the process. He won, and he is my hero.

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:14)

Trusting in a Chariot

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Nate was not mechanical and couldn’t fix cars, but in every other respect, he took care of our vehicles. He did the insurance research and payment, had the oil changed on time, made sure the proof of insurance was in each glove compartment, bought new tires, had maintenance check-ups, put the city decal and license plate sticker on each one, became best friends with the man at the body shop and had a strong relationship with the mechanic who kept our cars in working order.

Now that Nate is gone, some of that car-stuff is drifting my way, although Nelson has been intercepting much of it. Today I spent time on the phone developing a bond with Geico Insurance, trying not to sound stupid with my questions. When previous phone conversations are followed by contrary paperwork in the mailbox, its time to get close and personal. I chalked it up to another example of what my widow warriors refer to as the “endless paperwork of widowhood”. But even I know its important to get papers in order for the season of high-risk winter driving.

I grew up in Chicago where we had plenty of snow and ice, but living now on the east side of Lake Michigan, I’m in the path of what weathermen call “lake-effect snow.” This adds new depth (and density) to the word “blizzard.”

My game of slip-‘n-slide with an old minivan after our first snowfall (Dec. 7 blog) convinced me I should begin hunting for a four-wheel drive vehicle. Taking my own poll as our neighbors have driven by, I’ve seen that nine out of ten drivers have chosen crossovers or SUVs. With hilly dunes beneath our asphalt, which is beneath our snow, that makes good sense. In this neighborhood, slippery roads can cause even a quick trip to the post office to be put on hold.

Nelson and I concocted a plan to sell both Nate’s car and mine with the hope of purchasing a small, used 4WD vehicle. Nate’s car sold on Craig’s list in one hour. My van was more of a challenge, its glowing “check engine” light having been on for 4000 miles. Nelson and I began looking at 4×4’s, but everything was too pricey, so I decided to slide through the rest of winter in my van, hoping to buy something ahead of next winter.

But when I tried to get out of the neighborhood, I got stuck on the exit road with its ever-so-slight incline and a stop sign at the top. Even backing up for a running start didn’t work. Heading back to the house on the least hilly streets, I felt like Ma Ingalls. Just like her, I’d probably have to stockpile errands for the first thaw.

Little did I know that God-the-husband was about to solve the problem through my caring brother-in-law Bervin, who is always willing (eager!) to be used by the Lord. On Saturday he drove into our driveway behind the wheel of a big, black Dodge Durango saying, “How ‘bout we go on a test drive?” He and Mary were offering their SUV.

Climbing up into the driver’s seat, I felt ready to conquer any dune! With no effort at all we backed over mounds of snow left by plows and headed for the entrance road, which was a bunny hill to this powerful machine. I felt surrounded in safety. No more slip-‘n-slide games for this girl! “You can use it indefinitely,” Bervin said, “because I won’t need it through the winter.”

Scripture says we’re not to trust in horses or chariots to win our battles, but looking out the front window at my “new” Durango, I’ve got a lot of faith in that chariot. There isn’t much doubt it’ll conquer every snow-challenge winter spits out.

The real security, though, beneath those monster-size tires (Could they be three feet wide?!) is a brother-in-law and sister who are looking out for me, putting my needs ahead of their own. As Scripture says, “Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4) This is very difficult to do, but on Saturday, it got done.

“May the Lord answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you. May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.” (Psalm 20:1,4,7)

Being Paged

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When Nelson was three and Lars two, we lived near a busy shopping mall. I was pregnant with Linnea, looking for ways to use up the boundless energy of two little boys with the hope they’d nap during the afternoon. Once in a while we’d head for the mall, just to play. There were carpeted pits with giant steps for climbing, interesting drinking fountains, a pet store window to watch the animals and an ice cream shop with free tasting.

One snowy day we were at the mall, and the boys were playing happily in the pits while I was window shopping nearby. When Lars arrived at my side asking, “Where Neldo?” I knew we were in trouble.

I glanced down both ends of the long center hall but didn’t see his red hair anywhere. Grabbing Lars’ hand, we loped along as fast as his toddler legs could go, popping into each store along the way. My heart pounded. How could I be so irresponsible about watching the boys?

At a suggestion by one of the clerks, we ran down a narrow hall to the mall offices where we found a security guard with his feet up. “My little boy’s lost! Hurry! He could be anywhere!”

The guard asked several questions before getting up but finally said, “Don’t worry. Usually they go out to the car.”

This was cause for worry, since we were parked in a busy lot where drivers weren’t watching for a small boy darting between cars. A second worry was the icy December day, because I was holding Nelson’s jacket. But he wasn’t outside, so we followed the guard back to his office. “I’ll page him for you,” he said. “Where shall I tell him to meet you?”

This was a three year old! Would Nelson understand, “Report to the security office, Room 102”? If he had wandered to another part of the mall, he’d be like a mouse in a maze trying to find his way back.

My mind raced in an effort to think like a three year old, and my back hurt with the heavy two year old now on my hip. “Tell him to go to the carpeted steps,” I told him, pushing back a horrifying picture of Nelson already in the back seat of a stranger’s car.

As the guard paged Nelson, we heard his message broadcast on loudspeakers, after which Lars and I raced for the pit. Time ticked away. Without a sign of Nelson, I remembered the Walmart-style store at the far end of the mall with its broad, inviting entrance. Grabbing Lars, I jogged the length of the mall, holding back tears. How could I let this happen? What would I tell Nate? Where, oh where was Nelson!

As we approached the store I could see the check-out registers. Sitting atop one of them, conversing with a young woman, was our little boy in his green corduroy pants and checkered sweater, swinging his snow boots back and forth. Grabbing him and squeezing him tight, I cried, “Nelson! Where were you? Oh, I’m so sorry you got lost!”

“I’m not lost, Mama. I’m here,” he said, “and guess what! I was on the radio! They said me on the radio!”

I felt like a big balloon that had just been popped by a long pin as the breath I’d been holding came whooshing out. We put on our coats and headed for home. As far as Nelson was concerned, it’d been a fantastic morning.

Today I spent an hour talking to God and then paused to hear him, listening for his page. It’s hard to be quiet long enough to let him speak, but I kneeled and waited. Henry Blackaby says that after we’ve prayed, we should remain silent but pay close attention to our next thought.

After several minutes, the words “I am able” flooded my mind, and I knew the Lord was paging me. “Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.” (Ephesians 3:20)

In those three words, “I am able,” God was telling me he will cover my inabilities with his abilities, and things will work out ok. More than ok, they will be stunning, extravagant, brilliant! Unlike little Nelson who strayed from his parent, I’m planning to stay close to my Father, because when he does what he says he’ll do, I want to be right next to him!

“He is able even to subdue all things unto Himself.” (Philippians 3:20)