Yearly Archives: 2010

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)

Emotional Eruption

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We’ve passed the two-month mark now. Life is speeding along around us, and we’re doing our best to keep up, but every once in a while, we bump into a road block of anguish.

This morning I looked at the mountain of reading that has accumulated in the weeks leading up to Christmas, still untouched but calling loudly, and decided I’d better shuffle through at least some of it. Sorting it into piles was helpful: 1) for much later, 2) as soon as I can, 3) now!

That sounds efficient and well organized, but I am neither. Turning to leave with my pile of “nows” in one hand, the December Focus on the Family newsletter caught my eye. It was atop the “for much later” pile, but in a flash I was reading it.

Each December that newsletter breaks with the format of the other eleven months and shares a warm Christmas story, the kind families could confidently read around the holiday dinner table. I look forward to each December’s story and this morning found myself into it even before I had my pajamas off.

Sitting down with coffee, my “nows” and the newsletter, I read a husband’s story about his wife’s surprise pregnancy after cancer and intense radiation. Although they’d been told she would never have children, there was a positive pregnancy test, which unleashed nine months of anxiety over the condition of the child.

Their miracle baby due at Christmas, arrived at Thanksgiving, tiny but healthy. The young couple, without money for Christmas gifts, put their tiny month-old newborn under the tree with a miniature red Santa hat on his little head. His daddy wrote, “He was our gift to each other that year. Nothing else could have come close.”

They saved that Santa hat, and every Christmas since 1976, have topped their Christmas tree with it. The husband wrote, “It serves as a reminder of how out of the depths of despair and the shadow of death can spring hope and expectancy, and ultimately affirmation [of new life].”

This morning as I read that story and landed on that last sentence, I broke into sobs like I haven’t since my encounter with the homeless man weeks ago. I couldn’t stop. And once again, I didn’t know why I was crying. My head was hanging down, and tears began pooling in the lenses of my reading glasses. What was this all about?

Maybe it was the husband’s positive statement that hope and expectancy can spring from death and despair. If that was it, my tears were those of happiness. I might also have been unconsciously thinking of the three newborns God is sending to our family, one due in three weeks, the twins in about three months.

But also underneath that emotional eruption was Nate’s death and disappearance, along with my yearning never to let the memories fade. Maybe I was unconsciously asking, “What represents our Santa hat for Nate?” Over the next few days, I’m going to think about it.

In Old Testament times, the Israelites had their Santa hat. It was called a “rock of remembrance.” God instructed them to set up stone markers as reminders to them and future generations that he was the master of rescuing, of performing wonders and of bringing new life from the death of old ideas, habits and hopes. This morning while reading the baby story I realized afresh that God is the same today as he was in 1976, and the same in Bible times, and the same even before time began at all. One of the best things about him is how he still brings life from death. Always did and always will.

God saved the life of the young wife suffering from killer-cancer but even greater than that, he brought new life directly from her. This is the kind of spectacular work God does. He doesn’t always cure cancer or send new babies, but he always, without fail, brings new life. The categories in which he works are myriad. If we don’t believe it, it’s because we haven’t seen it. And if we haven’t seen it, it’s because we haven’t asked for it. When I ask, he shows me, and when I see, I’m overwhelmed with pleasure and hope, just as the young couple in the story was.

I know God will bring new life from my husband’s death. In a way, he already has by using Nate’s life as the focal point of this blog. With every positive feedback, a little something new is born. For that, and for all the new life I have yet to see as a result of Nate’s death, I am truly thankful.

“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (John 12:24)

“Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.” (Hebrews 13:8)