Monthly Archives: June 2010

Silence isn’t always golden.

Posted on by

A while ago, when my two praying “girlfriends” visited, we went out to lunch at a local eatery. Because the weather was spectacular, we ate outdoors and enjoyed happy conversation that didn’t leave one moment of dead air. But ten days later, I’m still thinking about a disturbing scene near our table that day.

In my line of vision at the next table, just behind my friend, sat a well-dressed married couple. Each time I looked at my friend, I could see this couple and began noticing what a good time they were not having. Once their orders were given, not another word passed between them. They sat in silence waiting for their food and looked at other people coming and going but never at each other. It was so troubling I mentioned it to my friends. This couple looked miserable.

I’m sure these two middle-aged people had a long history together and had made many memories over the years. Surely they hadn’t always acted so cold toward each other. Yet there they sat, unable (or unwilling) to say one word. I wanted to walk over and say, “I’m a new widow. I’d give anything to sit with my husband at a table on this patio just one more time. Please do something to shake up your relationship before it’s too late!”

What if someone told this husband and wife that the next week one of them would die. There’s no question they’d have been in deep, meaningful conversation at that table rather than suffering in stony silence. It struck me as such a waste.

Neither seemed to be angry with the other, just neutral. When their lunches arrived, they ate in complete quietness, not even making an effort to ask if the other’s tasted good.

I felt a deep sadness for this couple and still do. Of course I had no idea what might have been weighing them down. Maybe each was lost in thought about serious matters too painful to discuss. Maybe pressure was mounting in a certain life category. Maybe their marriage had just become boring and stale. Whatever it was, if the situation didn’t change, they were headed no place good.

I think of the biblical standard for marriage. Mom summed it up well with one of her favorite quotes: “Marriage doubles your joy and cuts your sorrow in half.” Of course every marriage falls short of that now and then. As a matter of fact, to make any marriage good, both partners must deliberately give in to the other. That frigid lunch table could have warmed up a great deal with a simple, “Penny for your thoughts?” asked by either one.

Even though this couple had arrived well after we did, they ate quickly and left ahead of us. The husband helped his wife pull out her chair, but she never looked at him or said thank you. He opened the door for her as they turned to walk through the restaurant and out, but neither said a word. They must have planned ahead of time to eat out that day, and they chose a very nice restaurant. But had their lunch event met their expectations? Had it been worth it? Or had it been damaging?

“Each one of you must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.” (Ephesians 5:33)

What’d ya say?

Posted on by

While I was in England recently visiting our son Hans and his young family, we began chatting about the Garden of Eden. We wondered aloud about its only residents, Eve and Adam, the mother and father of the entire human race. What did they look like? Were they tall? Small? Dark skinned? Light? Were they children? Teens? Twenty-somethings?

Enjoying our discussion, we talked about their language. Without ever pondering this before, I’ve always assumed they spoke English, a thought that seems comical now. But what, then, did they speak? Was it Hebrew? Greek? Aramaic? We decided it was probably none of those.

Most likely it was a language unknown today. Hans got me laughing when he said, “Maybe it was the language of clicks and whistles,” and then gave me his best impression. We agreed it was too late for either of us to master that one.

Nate spoke fluent Russian, having been a Russian minor in college. Although he downplayed his accomplishment, when he visited Russia, he successfully spoke it, was easily understood and was able to understand native speakers in return. He was fluent all right. And one of the reasons was his continual review of his flashcards, worn and dog-eared from ongoing use.

All of our children have studied foreign languages in school, but most can’t use it beyond Taco Bell or The Olive Garden. Although a two year old can become fluent in any language in less than a year, the rest of us need multiples of that time to speak even a little. The older we get, the harder it is to make a new language “stick”.

It’s even difficult (and can be risky) traveling in a foreign country where we can’t read signs or understand speech. Mary and I once got so lost in Sweden we thought we’d have to spend the night under a bridge. Although we had a car, a full gas tank, Swedish money and two fairly good brains, without the language it was a hopeless situation.

I’ve so loved listening to 22 month old Skylar learn English. Yesterday we walked the four short blocks to my mailbox with Skylar running circles around the rest of us, Linnea, Micah, Louisa, Birgitta, Jack the dog and me. One of us said, “It’s a little chilly.”

Skylar, a keen listener, immediately picked up on it. “It’s a little chilly, Mommy. It’s a little chilly, Weez. It’s a little chilly, Gitta. It’s a little chilly, Midgee.” As she skipped along, she repeated these new words 20 times over until we were stumbling along the road with laughter. But Skylar was simply learning a language.

No doubt heaven will have its own language made up of words none of us could ever find in an earthly textbook. When we first arrive there, however, and are still learning to speak it, there will be a way to commune with the Lord and each other as we’re bursting to share our joy at being in the presence of God. We’ll be able to use the universal language: music.

“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness.” (Psalm 100:1-2a)

Comfy Terrycloth

Posted on by

Over the last few months I’ve given away quite a few of Nate’s clothes, many of them to our Illinois church’s clothing distribution to the homeless. There’s one piece, however, I’ve decided to keep… and to wear. It’s his navy blue, terrycloth bath robe.

Nate wore this robe daily. Throughout 2009 when he was plagued by severe back pain, he couldn’t wait to get out of his business suit each evening and into the comfort of this bath robe. Usually the transition was made immediately after our 7:00 PM dinner by way of a hot soak in the tub with the day’s newspapers.

Although there were nights during his stressful career when he’d fall into bed very late wearing his white long-sleeved dress shirt still buttoned at the wrists, in recent years he did away with all that. And during his last year, he worked deliberately to reduce his pain and find a measure of comfort each evening.

Once in a while I’d get frustrated watching him abdicate the hustle and bustle of family life in favor of undressing and moving toward a prone position. I even grew to dislike the navy robe, which for both of us represented the end of his day. I’d ask, “Are you getting ready for night time already? It’s only 8:00.”

Now, of course, I feel badly about the implication of my question, but I hadn’t known the extent of his pain.

One of the reasons he loved his terrycloth robe was not having to dry off after a bath or shower. “It’s like a giant towel doing the job for me,” he’d say.

These days, as I wrap myself in his “giant towel,” I think comforting thoughts about Nate. I ponder the absence of complaining about his back and know he’d smile to see how I’ve come to appreciate his robe. I also imagine how he’d laugh if he could see me in it, the shoulders droopy and the belt nearly going around twice. But he’d be glad to know I’ve finally discovered there’s comfort in that terrycloth.

Many of my widow pals say they find a warm refuge in wearing a husband’s jacket, shirt or socks. It sounds silly, especially if we never shared our men’s clothing while they were still with us. But it’s one of the few remaining links we have to our partners, and because of that, wearing their clothes takes on special meaning.

Scripture tells us God is a good comforter. He provides his Holy Spirit as a soothing balm from our insides out, supplying comfort deep-down in those places nobody sees. Jesus said that when we mourn, he’ll see to it that relief comes to us. (Matthew 5:4) One of the many ways he’s comforted me is by coaxing me into Nate’s robe.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles…” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4a)