Monthly Archives: July 2010

Know or Be Known

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Mom used to tell me she learned new things about Dad even after 50 years of marriage, but I couldn’t imagine it. Recently, though, I discovered something new about my own husband, who I haven’t seen for eight months. Actually, I discovered two things.

A guest at our cottage stumbled across a copy of “The Flashback,” a school yearbook published in 1958. It has Nate’s name printed on the inside flap, and his picture is on several of its 55 pages. He looks younger than his 12 years, but that might be because none of the cynicism of adolescence had yet set in.

Apparently Churchill Junior High School was brand new that year, opening its doors to 1000 students 53 years ago, on September 3, 1957. I went on line and learned the school is still functioning, although today it isn’t labeled “state of the art” as it was in the fifties.

Paging through the yearbook is a lesson in American history. Girls wore skirts or dresses with saddle shoes and rolled down socks. The rule, said one girl, was “blouses tucked in or a trip to the advisor’s office.” The boys had short hair, tucked shirts, belts, slacks, no blue jeans.

So, what did I learn about Nate? First of all, I never knew he played football! I did know of his interest in the high school newspaper (the editor) and the debate team (the captain) but was surprised to see him kneeling in the second row with the team (far left). In 40 years of marriage I never saw Nate toss a football, and he attended games only to see Hans play in the marching band.

The second surprise was his keen interest in girls. At the age of 12, he was already watching carefully. His yearbook has a penciled X next to the faces of those he considered cute and a line under their names. He’d selected eight girls in all.

I loved reading the farewell messages on the autograph pages, particularly the one that mentioned one of the X-ed girls: “Nathan. To a good friend who kept me up (April 12, Sunday morning) to 2:00 AM on Marilyn and her features. Lots of Luck. Bruce.” Had I seen this gem a year ago, I could have asked Nate a few questions.

None of us can know everything about somebody else, not even a long-term spouse. That’s because we’re good at covering things up, and we don’t necessarily even want to be fully known. But Scripture tells us God does know us fully, like it or not. It doesn’t affect what he feels about us, though, and what he feels is intense love.

Nothing we do surprises him or changes his mind about us. This is a huge relief, because it means we don’t have to play games or hide anything from him.

I’m sure young Nate hid his feelings about Marilyn and never let her know how enamored he was of her “features”. But all in all, it’s probably best that she never knew.

“God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)

Up a Creek

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I’ve been coming to the same stretch of Michigan sand every summer for 64 years. Although the dimensions of the beach have changed each year based on the depth of the lake, one thing hasn’t changed in 100 years: the creek.

As kids we played endlessly in Deer Creek, a shallow, moving mini-river of water flowing mysteriously out of dark woods into the lake. Despite summers when algae grew on its surface or bark turned the water brown, nothing could keep us out of that creek.

If we left the beach and followed it back into the deep woods where it was cool on hot days, we would find treasure beneath the water: minnows, sparkle-rocks and best of all, gray clay. During the carefree days before we hit the double-digit years, we were sure this clay was the key to flawless beauty. Working carefully on ourselves and each other to cover every square inch of exposed skin, we’d emerge from the woods looking like a potter’s wheel had gone berserk. A quick swim, however, would remedy the matter.

In the 1950’s, the creek mosquitoes were so thick we looked like a batch of measle-infected kids. One summer a dozen of us decided to follow the creek as far as we could, knowing it “went forever.” By the time we’d traveled less than a mile, stirring up mosquito nests all along the way, I had so many bites I actually became immune to them. After that, whenever a mosquito bit me, no red bump would develop. I tested it again and again, watching while the bug filled with my blood. The immunity is still good today.

Sometimes wild winds knocked trees down, placing them as perfect bridges. We’d run back and forth, competing to see who could cross the fastest before misstepping and crashing into the water. During moments of rest, we’d straddle the “bridge” and talk for hours, sharing childhood’s secrets. I credit our parents with the gift of letting us roam free. Not everyone is that fortunate.

Last summer Jack and I had a carefree adventure of our own. Since the creek flows through the woods directly behind our cottage, we decided to walk home from the beach in the creek. Between fallen trees, slippery rocks, tangled roots, knee-deep water and low-hanging branches, we barely made it. But I felt like a kid again, and it was worth the effort.

There aren’t many children following the creek these days. Maybe their parents are worrying about accidents and stitches. It’s a long way from the beach to the emergency room. Maybe they’re nervous about who else might be in the woods, although there’s never been an incident. Maybe the kids are all on the internet or playing video games. Whatever the reason, they’re missing out on one of summer’s delights.

My goal as a mom was to be sure our kids appreciated God’s handiwork the way I’d learned to do, motivating me to push/pull them outdoors. Even studying the tiny body of a mosquito teaches of God’s attention to detail and establishes admiration in the heart of a child. Although God fully understands the internet and should get full credit for the World Wide Web, catching minnows in a beach towel or harvesting a bucket of sticky clay beats computer fun any day.

“God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.” (Genesis 1:31)

BFF

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As Birgitta readies for university life, she and I have talked about the friendships awaiting her, some she will treasure for life. Although she’s already made many friends, some very special ones are in her immediate future.

This week one of my own lifelong friends visited me, a “girl” I met during junior year in college whom I’ve loved ever since. Because she is one of my Widow Warriors, she gives good counsel and lavishes encouragement on my adjustment to being without Nate.

Carole lost her husband to cancer 14 years ago, after 26 years of marriage and seven children, three natural-born and four adopted. In addition to fostering 65 other children, she teaches crochet classes for adults, sings in her church choir and enjoys having her daughter’s family live with her – nine people in a 1200 square foot house.

Carole and I are close in age, sharing in senior moments and decreasing in physical stamina at the same time. Despite our living 800 miles apart with only rare visits, our friendship seamlessly picks up where it left off and never runs out of talking points.

Years ago when we got together with mobs of young children, Carole and I would begin a conversation that continued throughout the visit, whether it was two days or two weeks. If the kids needed something and tried to cut in, we trained them to stand and wait next to us until we turned and said “Yes?” Sometimes they had a long wait, but that only served to separate the important requests from the unnecessary. If they decided it wasn’t worth it, they’d step away, and we could keep chatting. After all, with 14 kids, there was a great deal of ground to cover.

This fall will mark 45 years that Carole and I have been friends. What is it that holds people together over that many years, despite the obstacles of distance, busyness and infrequent contact? Part of it is growing through life’s changes simultaneously: marriage, children, mortgages, middle age. Another part of it must be knowing each other so well that all false pretense is gone. It’s a blessing to be with someone who doesn’t distance themselves, no matter what you do or say. Close friends are also bound by their beliefs and standards. They share at least some commonality in the things that make them tick.

We all know the misery of “high maintenance friendships,” relationships that require walking on egg shells and making contact on a scheduled basis “or else.” Other relationships are lopsided with one person doing all the taking, the other all the giving. And we’ve all known people who ride a never-ending emotional roller coaster to the point that we never know what to expect when we’re together.

Today I was thinking about heaven, as I do every day, wondering about Nate’s friendships. Scripture tells us Jews and Gentiles who share a belief in Christ will sit down together at God’s banquet table with some of the famous characters of the Bible. If we’ll be chatting over a meal with some of them, no doubt we’ll be making contact with all of them. And since heaven will be about harmony and happiness, my guess is we’ll be long-term friends (really long-term) with everyone!

God is all about relationships, between himself and people, and also person to person. I know he will bless Carole and I with a continued friendship in the next world, most likely to brand new levels. So I’m praying Birgitta will seek out friendships this fall that will be satisfying and long-term, too, during her years in school. Hopefully they’ll remain strong all the way into eternity.

“I tell you this, that many Gentiles will come from all over the world — from east and west — and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the feast in the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 8:11)