Monthly Archives: August 2010

Focal Point

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All of us know a hostess with the mostest. These are the people who thrive on entertaining and happily do the work of pulling together an event for their guests. It’s delightful to be invited to one of their gatherings. As a result of careful attention to detail, guests feel welcome, sensing a certain eagerness on the part of the hostess.

Once the guests are called to the table, they can expect a feast for the palette and also for the eyes. Every good hostess appreciates the opportunity to display a dramatic centerpiece on her table. Her creative arrangement becomes a focal point for those seated around it and usually summarizes the theme of the evening. She decorates the rest of her table based on her choice of centerpiece.

She might choose a floral arrangement or a candle display. I’ll never forget a bridal shower with a beach theme and an artistic centerpiece of shells, starfish and sandals scattered over an inch of white sand. Anything goes, according to the whims of the hostess.

Occasionally a centerpiece will be so large guests can’t converse over it. Although the impression is dramatic, the result is side-to-side conversation rather than round-tabling one topic together. When this happens, a good hostess will remove her centerpiece, because bigger isn’t always better.

The most impressive centerpiece I ever set up was a display of candles in painted Swedish holders. The holders were made of wood, and while we did the dishes, they caught on fire. Before we noticed, flames had burned through the tablecloth, the table pads, the table itself and the rug. It definitely qualified as a dramatic centerpiece.

Although not all of us can be extraordinary party hosts, we do each choose a centerpiece: it’s the focal point around which we gather all the parts of our lives. Yesterday at the beach I watched a massive yacht cruise by, no doubt someone’s life-centerpiece. Other focal points might be a dream home, a fulfilling career or a certain person, possibly a child.

I‘ve been thinking about Nate in this regard. Although he was my “other half” and an everyday partner in my life, he wasn’t my centerpiece. Had he been that, his death would have caused me to push back from the table and exit the conversation of life. And that’s probably true of any centerpiece we choose. Once it disappears, we have trouble participating.

Moving forward is only possible if a new focal point is quickly established. Or we can choose to focus on the only centerpiece that can never disappear – Christ Jesus. He has been, and will continue to be, my life centerpiece. Without him, I’d feel like a guest at the table who’d been excluded from the conversation.

Nate often said, about someone enjoying one of life’s richer experiences, “He has pulled a chair up to the banquet of life.” With Jesus as our centerpiece, the banquet can be rich indeed. And he manages this even without the dramatics of a centerpiece bonfire.

“Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who gives us richly all things to enjoy.” (1 Timothy 6:17)

Roadside Memorial

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We’ve all driven past small, hand-made memorials on the side of the highway, and this week I noticed a new one very near my home. Pulling off onto the grassy shoulder of the four lane road, I walked back to the cluster of items that made up the memorial. A beautiful wooden cross held a plaque that read, “Frankie L. Pipkins III, May 30, 1991, January 6, 2010.”

Frankie died at 18. I felt sick to my stomach, envisioning a horrendous car crash and a family’s shock. As I stood and studied what this young man’s loved ones had left in memory of him, I hoped maybe someone from his family might come by to visit the memorial, too. I craved more information about this teenager and wanted to ask questions of the people who loved him.

Next to the cross was a Christmas wreath decorated for the holidays with a string of red lights, silver bows and several ornaments: a pewter half-moon with an angel sitting on it next to the word “peace”, an old-fashioned Santa, and four ceramic ornaments with the words “hope, love, dream, wish.”

Also hanging from the wreath was a girl’s silver necklace with a ring on it, a pair of guy-sunglasses and two beaded necklaces with small footballs hanging from them.

Artificial sun flowers and lilies nearly hid a telling piece of the memorial. Nestled in the grass at the base of the cross was the insignia from Frankie’s vehicle. The FORD logo, still attached to a jagged piece of red metal, sent a chill up my spine. I’m not sure why anyone would place that there, but as I crouched near the ground, I saw small hunks of red metal everywhere.

Bending to pick up one piece, I realized they were all firmly embedded in the hard ground, probably driven in by the terrible impact. But just when I started to weep over this young person’s violent end, I spotted something hopeful, a note written by hand and put next to the cross:

“Psalm 115:15 – May you be blessed by the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

Had Frankie been raised in a home where God was lifted up and his Word taught? Did he know the Lord as his personal Savior? If he did, he’s healthy and whole in paradise, possibly shaking hands with Nate. But what about his family? Are they healthy and whole? Although we had “only” 42 days with Nate, Frankie’s family had only one instant to absorb the dreadful truth.

I gathered up several stems of Queen Anne’s lace growing nearby and laid them next to the cross. If the Pipkins family ever visited their memorial, they might be encouraged to know that someone else had stopped to think about their Frankie, too.

“Discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness, for bodily discipline is only of little profit, but godliness is profitable for all things, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.” (1 Timothy 4:7-8)

The Marrying Kind, Part V

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A year ago at this time, Nate and I knew nothing of the terminal cancer diagnosis that was about to crash into our lives. But he was experiencing serious back pain and was looking forward to “going under the knife” for a chance at reducing his agony.

Spring was difficult as he continued to work a full schedule, commuting to Chicago’s Loop daily from the suburbs. But when he arrived home at 7:00 pm, he was exhausted. The stresses of lawyering didn’t compare to the strain of fighting constant pain.

Nate became especially low during the weeks when I was packing up the house to move. I’d spend the short evening with him and then, after he was asleep, would head back to the basement crawl space.

As I dug into boxes of memorabilia, I came across reminders of past friendships and events. It occurred to me Nate might enjoy looking at some of the items if he couldn’t sleep during the night. Good memories might be a happy distraction from the pain that continually tormented him.

He always sat on one end of a short couch where the lamp shone well on his reading material and the table was just right to hold his coffee, Post-its, pen and phone. I decided to try my idea and put a letter from an old law school friend on the table. I knew he’d see it before the night had ended.

In the morning, the letter from his pal was lying on the kitchen counter with a Post-it note attached and a “remember when” statement. My plan had worked. For at least a few minutes during his painful night, he’d been lifted to a different time and place.

As I continued working in the basement, I’d set things aside to use in the middle-of-the-night “mail drop.” And every morning the item was in the kitchen with a note attached. Eventually he told me he looked forward to seeing what was on the table, thanking me for this nightly walk down Memory Lane.

And then I found the letter he’d written to my parents shortly after we were engaged. (The Marrying Kind, Part III) I set it on his table, and in the morning his attached Post-it had two lines of poetry on it:

“When all the world and love was young —

Come live with me and be my love.”

After 40 years of marriage, Nate had again declared his love for me. One of the lines in his letter had said: “Love for Margaret is a spiritual gift with which the Lord has blessed me.”

When I first read that, it sounded grandiose and exaggerated. But in thinking about love being the creation of God, Nate’s declaration was on target. Scripture says God himself is love and that true love always initiates with him.

I do know one thing beyond all doubt. Nate loved me unconditionally. His Post-it note, attached to the letter he wrote 40 years earlier, bookended a lifetime of love toward me that had not waned through all those years. Because I was not always loveable, and because Nate loved me anyway, there is no other explanation except to say, as he did, that love is a gift from God.

And I’m thankful Nate unwrapped it and shared it with me.

“Let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God.” (1 John 4:7a)