Yearly Archives: 2010

Picture this.

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Today was a hazy day with wispy clouds high in the sky. Unseasonably warm temps coaxed Jack and I to the beach for an outdoor prayer time, a special treat. Walking the waveless waterline in bare feet was surely wading on borrowed time.

When we left the beach to run errands, I glanced back to appreciate the view. “The sunset will be beautiful tonight with these streaky clouds,” I told Jack.

Hours later I was taking advantage of a senior citizen day at the nearest Kohl’s (22 miles away) and noticed a pinkish light streaming through the windows and across the clothing racks, a wildly colorful sunset going on just across the parking lot.

Heading for the windows with an armload of clothes, I marveled at the magnificent view. Amazingly, the crowd pushing hangers back and forth nearby was unaware of the light show outside.

Watching pink, blue, purple and gold layers ripple across the sky like theater floodlights, I knew God was doing something spectacular, so dug in my purse for the camera I always carry. When I couldn’t find it, I wondered how I could ever “save” the sunset without it.

Before I could figure that out, though, the colors began to fade, and the opportunity was gone.

As I walked to the fitting room, I couldn’t figure out why my spirits were so low. What was there to be sad about? The bargains were good, the selection was great, time was ample and I’d just enjoyed a gorgeous sunset. What bothered me was my inability to get a picture. Without the picture, I had no evidence of what I’d just seen.

As expected, none of the clothes looked good on me, because my heart wasn’t in it. While driving home, I thought about the sunset and realized I’d been more concerned about getting the picture than seeing the actual sunset. And immediately I thought of Nate. Last night I’d gotten lost in my photo albums until well past midnight. Every picture with Nate in it had become a treasure, because of course there will be no more taken.

And that’s what was bothering me.

A photo can’t hold a sunset any more than a picture could have held Nate. But my thoughts said, “You should have taken more pictures. He’s gone now. You squandered your chances.” I recognized this as the quiet voice of mourning. Although I’ve been feeling better lately, I knew the old sense of sadness could bubble up at any time.

It’s at moments like this that God’s promises of heavenly reunions move in and lift us. “Looking at” the mental picture of reconnecting with loved ones is enough to obliterate negative self-talk and put bright hope in its place. Although I  have no photos of heaven in my albums, those glorious reunions are worth trying to “see”.

I can’t post a current picture of Nate, nor can I show one of tonight’s sunset or of a heavenly reunion. But having no pictures can’t negate the wondrous reality of all three.

“Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.” (Hebrews 11:1)

Getting Out

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In my first year as a widow, I took 11 trips, accumulating 17,000 frequent flyer miles and clocking 28,000 highway miles. I’m not sure how that happened, and traveling certainly hadn’t been my goal. My honest intention after Nate died was just to burrow in at home and think about whatever God put on my mind.

But when new babies come, grandmas go!

Although I did fly and drive to spend time with faraway friends and family, I didn’t do much locally. Last September was Nate’s and my first autumn living in Michigan, and we fully intended to begin putting roots down immediately. We wanted to serve in our new church and get better acquainted with our neighbors, thinking we might host a casual supper for everyone on our street.

But right then cancer hit, and we were forced to begin a completely different journey. We couldn’t go to church because of the severity of Nate’s illness, and our neighbors graciously gave us space and privacy (while somehow managing to put food on our doorstep).

After Nate died and my kids and grandkids returned to their regular lives, those in our neighborhood began stepping forward with loving invitations. “Would you come for dinner? Does the church concert interest you? Could you use the extra banquet ticket I have? Want to come for game night? join our book club? go out for pizza?”

These kind invitations came in between my unpacking and repacking sessions when I was craving time alone. Saying “no” to each request, I felt guilty and unfriendly. The one invitation I did accept turned into a debacle; I forgot to go. They were understanding, but I still feel badly about it.

Meeting new people, answering questions and trying to smile was nearly impossible in those early months. My insides ached, and no amount of “want-to” helped.

But today is a different day. Life is getting better. The ache, although still there, is less pronounced, and tears aren’t just beneath the surface anymore. So when my next-door-neighbor Linda invited me to her Bible study, I said “yes”.

This morning, about twenty of us gathered at a church five minutes away to learn from Hebrews 6. All ages were represented among the women, and our young leader did an exceptional job teaching us and then drawing thoughts from her students. She was a superb listener, incorporating every comment into her instruction.

As I sat with Hebrews on my lap, I sensed the room was full of biblically seasoned women from whom I could learn much. Quite a few of them were widows. We talked of our sure hope in Christ and of him being our anchor during rough times. We paused over the mention of Abraham, whom we see as running ahead of God’s promise, but who God saw as “waiting patiently.” (6:15) What a relief to know God has realistic expectations of us, without judging us as failures.

It was a joy to dig into God’s Word with these women today, and I’m looking forward to next week. Since the last 12 months were chuck-full of travel, maybe the next 12 will be dominated by stay-at-home time…  including time to faithfully attend Bible study.

“All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true…” (2 Timothy 3:16a)

What a difference a year makes.

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Linnea just sent an interesting email. She and Adam had been talking about the many changes each one in our family has experienced in the past year:

Nelson sold his landscaping business and rejoined Youth With A Mission full time, leading young people from many nations toward all-out commitments to Christ. Lars worked in Chicago for a year (after 15 years in San Diego) and is currently working back in California for six weeks, in his old insurance office. Linnea and Adam are caring for two children instead of one. Klaus has met the love of his life in our tiny Michigan town. Hans and Katy are raising three children instead of one. Louisa is immersed in Scripture at YWAM’s School of Biblical Studies. Birgitta is making A’s as a double major at the University of Iowa.”

Although change can be difficult and adjustments rocky, the above list is bursting with blessing. The devil came alongside a Christian family and said, “Watch me make a mess of this whole group. I’ll hit the father with an ugly, terminal disease, and that’ll cause the rest of them to spin into despair. Hopefully they’ll blame God for the whole mess.”

But that’s how our enemy operates, hoping to contaminate the testimonies of people who love the Lord. Better yet, he wants to turn them away from God completely. But as the biblical Joseph told his brothers in reference to their evil actions against him, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good.” (Genesis 50:20)

Although my children have lost their father and I’ve lost my husband, something positive has happened, too. From Linnea’s email: “I get why the Bible says it’s better to mourn than to laugh. Thinking about death makes you live your life better.”

She makes a powerful point. As a result of losing someone precious to all of us, we find ourselves looking at those who are still with us, not just in the Nyman family but all around us. We’re done with thinking length of days is a given. No one is sure of tomorrow or even the rest of today. And from that thought, we find ourselves handling relationships with greater care.

“Did I thank that person for their kindness to me? Have I said ‘I love you’ lately? Did I speak out that compliment I was thinking? Should I apologize for my insensitivity yesterday?”

When it used to be easy to put things off till later, now we know later might not come. The wiser choice is to do it today. That goes for spending time in prayer, studying the one Book that’s everlasting, giving to others, and keeping short accounts with God.

As Linnea wrote, “It’s easier to keep perspective and focus on what matters” after we’ve mourned a great loss.

“Better to spend your time at funerals than at parties. After all, everyone dies—so the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us. A wise person thinks a lot about death, while a fool thinks only about having a good time.” (Ecclesiastes 7:2-4)