June 24, 1977

Any little girl who grows up among four brothers learns how to hold her own. Our Linnea, from the age of two, could “deliver the goods” when necessary, learning early that words hold power. Although the rest of us had trouble keeping a straight face when she lectured in her toddler voice, she got the job done.

She made a good choice in not letting the boys run all over her, and she’s made many other good ones with the rest of her 33 years. The best one was made the day she invited Jesus into her life as a four year old. When her Grandma arrived for dinner that night, Linnea took her upstairs to her room, shut the door and said, “Guess what, Grandma! Jesus came into my heart today, and if you put your hand here [on my heart], you can feel him jumping up and down!”

The day Linnea was born I remember standing at the hospital nursery window with Nate and my parents as the nurse wheeled the clear acrylic bed close enough for us to see this new little relative. “She’ll always be optimistic,” Dad said.

Wondering how he could know this from one quick glance at a newborn, I asked him. He said, “The corners of her mouth turn up naturally, and that’s what that means.”

He was right. She’s always looked for the uplifting detail in every scenario and has been an encourager of others all along the way. It was her optimism that prayed faithfully for a sister (see April 28 blog) and was rewarded with two. Both of those girls, 11 and 13 years younger than Linnea, would say they love their older sister’s non-judgmental attitude toward others and the way she points out the good in everyone. The words, “She’s an inspiration to me” have come out more than once.

Another positive choice was Adam. Although many newlyweds struggle to adjust, both Adam and Linnea found Year One to be the easiest of their lives. That was the calm before the storm, however, as they were devastated to learn they might never have children. Such a blow could drive a wedge between husband and wife but in this case served to bond them tightly. When they were given not one but two miracle babies, they gave God all the credit. Even though raising two-under-two is exhausting, Linnea and Adam never take their children for granted.

Nate was the one who named Linnea, and I’ll never forget him coming to the hospital the day after she was born with a ruffled bonnet he’d bought at Marshall Fields. She was his only daughter for the first 15 years of fathering, and he treated her like a princess, wanting to give her the desires of her heart.

She follows in Nate’s footsteps as a list-maker and Post-it note user, organizing her life and projects well, setting goals and meeting them. Her love for education jived with his, and he was proud of her as a high school English teacher. Linnea didn’t hesitate, however, when the option to be a stay-at-home mom presented itself. Even tenure didn’t hold her at the school, and she’s never looked back.

It’s my great delight to be Linnea’s friend, and I’ve learned much from this daughter. She’s a walking, talking model of the fruits of the Spirit, and because of this, her opinion is valuable to me, and there is power in her words. God sure was good to us on June 24, 1977.

“Pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another.” (Romans 14:19)

Pattern for Life

Today as I was changing the bed sheets, I decided to put Nate’s favorites on. They’re full of thin stripes in blues and greens, resembling a king size bar code. I like them, too, because there’s no doubt of which fitted corner goes where. Since king size mattresses are close-to-square, it’s a mental exercise to get it right… unless the sheets are striped. Then it’s easy.

I think Nate liked these sheets because stripes represented order. He liked things to be controlled and if possible, tidy, which was a problem with an often-chaotic life. Being the father of seven brings turbulence as well as blessings, and financial ups and downs compound the turmoil. At the end of a day filled with commotion when Nate turned down the bed and was greeted with his favorite striped sheets, it did something special for him. He never failed to comment: “Oh, I like these sheets,” as if they were brand new.

I guess I could have blessed him with nothing but striped sheets, had I taken time to listen to the longing behind his comments. If I’d known how soon he would be leaving this world, I’d have done it for sure.

Today as I unfurled the sheets, it occurred to me stripes had popped up in other categories of Nate’s life, too. His favorite suits were pin-striped, and the ties he wore most often included diagonal lines. His shirts also followed the pattern, with the exception of the plain white ones he felt obligated to wear in court. If given a choice, stripes or checks were what he bought. Not sometimes, but always.

I hadn’t thought about this phenomenon until today. Disorder was hard on Nate, and he worked at keeping his life prepared and well organized. Even at restaurants, as we awaited our meals, he’d unconsciously straighten his silverware and line up his glass and cup to make his area “square with the world.” Without realizing it, the rest of us often worked against his efforts with our free-wheeling ways.

Reality doesn’t usually look like a bar code or even a checkered shirt. A better description of most lives is “askew”. Emergencies throw our schedules overboard, and conversations don’t always turn out like we expect. Frequently events overlap, forcing us to arrive late, prepare inadequately or flip-flop priorities. Over-commitment often stretches people like gum under a shoe. After a day filled with that kind of disorder, striped bed sheets give a reason to heave a big sigh and climb in, hoping for a better tomorrow.

Sometimes I think of Nate’s longing for his life to be neat and orderly and I’m flooded with thankfulness for where he is today. Either his wish has come true, or he’s changed into someone who can live with carefree abandon as he discovers joy upon joy in heaven. Either alternative is fabulous.

One thing is certain. Because there’s no night there, he’ll never need bed sheets… striped or otherwise.

“There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light.” (Revelation 22:5)

Light Bulbs and Sparklers

Here in Michigan we’ve been learning to live without the internet, which has been “down” since Friday at about midnight. After a violent, twisty summer storm ripped through the area, we considered ourselves fortunate to be left with some electrical power when so many had none. Adam posted my Friday blog from Florida, and I figured by the next day we’d be back on the www.

But new storms rushed across Lake Michigan with fresh fury, and finally we, too, lost all power.

Although it was difficult to be without fans during hot weather, the worst part of “going dark” was being unable to connect with you, my blog readers. You’ve been on my mind every hour during these last four days. The strange separation between us, after 288 days of communing via the blog, seemed to lay a mantle of heaviness over me.

You are precious to me. Last September, when I posted my first blog about Nate’s terminal cancer, you jumped onto that emotional roller coaster with me and helped me hang on tight. You traveled with me through 42 days of escalating disease and the excruciating death scene of my beloved husband. And you encouraged me faithfully when I stepped into widowhood and began that unwanted passage.

When I “lost” you last Friday, I felt terrible.

Our internet and electrical power jumped back to life an hour ago as I’m writing this, and even as our household was hooray-ing over lights and fans coming to life again, my thoughts raced toward you and www.GettingThroughThis.com.

A wild electrical storm is a damaging thing, but all of us go through them. Babies startle with claps of thunder, and dogs get nervous. The rest of us race through the house slamming windows, hoping a tree limb won’t come down on the house. For the most part, though, all of us make it through, in tact.

Summer electrical storms are nothing, however, compared with the storms of life we experience that have no thunder or lightning, the internal storms. One of these left me without my husband and left my children without their father. For all of us, the power sparked and died last November. A great deal of life went black.

Since then we’ve suffered through a secondary wave of storms as we’ve tried to move forward without the man we all loved. The power has shut down again and again as we’ve tried to adjust. But just as the electrical power was restored tonight after the winds and rains calmed and lines had been repaired, our relationships with Nate will be fixed one day, too. The power will return between him and all of us with a vibrancy even the best earthly relationship can’t know. It’ll be the difference between a light bulb and a sparkler.

While we wait, I’ve been able to enjoy lively relationships with all of you. My readers have been like a giant bouquet of shining bulbs to me, providing light on what would have been a much darker path without you. Please receive my most enthusiastic gratitude!

Tonight our forecast is for more storms. But even if the power shuts down, I know with certainty the tempest will pass… as all storms do, both visible and invisible. Even as we’ll hear thunder and see lightning, I’ll be thinking of how one day all of us will shine!

“Each one will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a parched land.” (Isaiah 32:2)