Hurry up and change.

Posted on October 5, 2010 by Margaret

When I was in 6^th grade, Marjie Simmons was my best friend. One school day we were outside during recess when she said, “Something bad’s gonna happen.”

“What?” I said.

“We have to move.”

I was speechless. Marjie told me she wouldn’t be going to 7^th grade with me, because she’d be living hundreds of miles away. This was devastating. When I told Mom, she kindly sympathized, but Dad said, “What’s all the fuss about? Before long you’ll forget all about her.”

My eleven-year-old heart was broken, because in my mind Marjie would always be #1. The thought of forgetting her was beyond comprehension. Dad’s comment bothered me for a long time, but of course he hadn’t meant any harm. What he did mean was that the sadness of Marjie’s departure wouldn’t last long, since other girlfriends would take her place. Although he hadn’t spoken with much tact, he was right.

I often wonder about Marjie. Where is she now? What has her life been like? Marjie probably moved away from our friendship as fast as I did, because children go through life changes like water through a funnel. They’re not the only ones changing, though. We adults change, too, which is good. The opposite would be sluggishness and eventually stagnation, and no one wants those.

A child’s goals are reachable: learning to walk, tying a bow, writing a name. Later it’s a little more work: conquering a sport, getting a license, buying a car. Once the childhood goals are met, things get downright complicated: choosing a career, finding a mate, conquering a bad habit. And every bit of it is change requiring growth.

Underneath the constant changing ought to be a quest for growth of intangible but lasting value: a desire to help someone in need, love the unlovable, explore a relationship with God.

My sister Mary and I once had a talk about our prayer lives. Comparing ourselves to Mom, who prayed a great deal, we were pathetic. We rode on her coattails for years. But God convicted both of us, and eventually we responded to his prayer invitation.

Then Mom died. We found ourselves wondering who would fill the prayer-void Mom left behind, especially in reference to requests made for our families.

“Maybe that’s us?” I said.

“And we got there just in time,” Mary added.

Although that change was long in coming, it’s one example of adult growth. We all have change-choice options. I should always be asking, “How can I do better? Where can I grow? What does God want me to do?” To follow his lead is to avoid a stall or stagnation.

Marjie Simmons and I quickly grew apart as kids, exactly as Dad had predicted. If we met again, it’s probable we both would have changed radically since our days together in 6^th grade. But all that change might just be good enough to bring us together as brand new friends.

Hmmm. I wonder if I could find Marjie on Facebook…

”We ask God to give you complete knowledge of his will and to give you spiritual wisdom and understanding. Then… you will grow as you learn to know God better and better.” (Colossians 1:9b-10)

The Thrill of It All

Posted on October 4, 2010 by Margaret

Today my college buddies came to church with me, making it easier to be without Nate. We found seats in the back and were settled in to worship when I noticed the family sitting in front of us with four young children. My best guesses were: a boy of 12, girls about 8 and 9 and another boy around 6. All of them were well behaved as the service proceeded, and the mother, sitting in the middle, continually quick-glanced in both directions to monitor them. She never needed to shush them, though, since they were so good.

Toward the end of the service, she leaned over to her youngest boy, probably a first grader, and whispered, “Yes, you can take communion today.”

It was as if he’d been told there was a new bike waiting for him in the parking lot. He wiggled and squirmed with excitement he could barely contain, gently tugging on his older brother’s sleeve as if to say, “Did you hear that? Mom said yes!”

As the plate of crackers came, he didn’t hesitate but took one and passed it on. Soft music played as he studied his tiny treasure and looked at his mother’s face. She smiled and put her hands together to let him know he should pray, and he immediately bowed his head. When the pastor gave the signal to eat, he looked at his brother, who gave him the go-ahead. A similar routine occurred with the cup.

I can’t stop thinking about this little guy’s enthusiasm for communion. He made a joyful mark on me, and I knew God was watching him with satisfaction. I prayed this child would always remember the happiness he felt as he took communion for the first time.

Children are naturally drawn to Jesus. It was detailed in Scripture and is still true today. God must have endowed them with a special understanding of his love for them. They never question it and usually receive salvation as the uncomplicated free gift it is. They have no thoughts of “But what about this or that…” and readily take the Lord at his word. They trust he is who he says he is and will do what he says he’ll do. What delight this must bring to the heart of the Father. If only we adults could think in this unfettered way.

The little boy’s behavior showed he’d been prepared for communion, schooled in the deep significance of the cross. I hope when he put his head on the pillow tonight, his mom or dad asked for his thoughts about the morning, because I’m sure he could have taught them something.

Once in a while, all of us would do well to think like a child.

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” (Rev. 3:20)

FFF

Posted on October 3, 2010 by Margaret

There’s no friend like an old friend, and 45 years of friendship definitely qualifies.

Nine of us college pals are here at the cottage for a few days, 405 years of accumulated friendship and good times. We met at Wheaton College in the mid-sixties and lived in off-campus housing together senior year. That’s when we really became close, sharing all-night study gigs fueled by a brand new product, Diet Rite Cola. Looking back at pictures, you’d think we spent all our time fooling around rather than hunkering down over books.

One day Kathy decided we needed a pet and came home with three goldfish in a bowl. She named them Figgy, Figgy and Foo, and although the fish didn’t last very long, the name stuck. Eleven of us became the Figgy Figgy Foos, or the Figs, or just plain FFF.

In the 43 years since graduation, we’ve been diligent about getting together, meeting every three years for a three day weekend in different homes. The decades have shaped our lives in cities across America and one in Germany. We’ve ended up becoming a missionary, a dean of students, a pastor, an editor, a social worker, a computer consultant and several school teachers. Coming together every three years takes effort… completely worth it.

The longer we live, the more interesting our gatherings become. We’ve taken divergent paths, and when we come together to catch up on three year’s worth of stories, the conversation is rich. Email has made it easier to arrange our reunions, and today we even spent a few minutes huddled over a laptop watching our favorite YouTube video clips, howling with laughter. Wasn’t it just yesterday we learned what the letters PC meant?

And that’s what old people do. They reminisce and say, “It seems like yesterday.”

How can it be that we all went on Medicare this year? Why is it that many are retiring? How come we’re talking around health issues? Can we be that old already?

Tonight, as we got sore stomachs from raucous laughter playing “Catch Phrase,” we had as good a time as in our college days. Age didn’t matter. Longstanding friendship did.

Although having fun has been our consistent theme, we’ve had to get serious, too. Two of our number have already died, both from cancer. And now Nate, too, is gone. Although he wasn’t a Fig, he was an adjunct member just like the other husbands are, and he is missed. We’re well aware time does run out on earthly friendships and want to make the most of the ones we have left.

When the 11 of us left the college campus in 1967, none of us knew how long we’d remain pals. And tonight we concluded that although laughing and being goofy has kept us wanting more, the core reason for Fig-unity is our shared belief in Jesus Christ. He’s the constant, the one who is present at every gathering and most important to us as individuals. He’s the glue that holds us together.