Yearly Archives: 2010

Delayed Gratification

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When our Nelson was three years old, he noticed the table set for dinner and climbed into his junior chair, hoping for something to eat. I was busy dishing up four bowls of fruit when he began to whine. “I’m hungry! I wanna eat now!”

“Pretty soon,” I said. “When Papa gets home.”

As his complaining escalated, I became irritated he wouldn’t wait and told him to go find something to do away from the kitchen. But before he did, he asked three weighty questions.

“Do I have to obey you?”

“You should,” I said.

“But do you have to obey anyone?”

For the sake of the analogy, I said, “Yes. Papa.”

“Then who does Papa have to obey?”

I could see where he was going. “Jesus,” I said.

There was a pause, and then he said, “Well… I just heard the Lord Jesus tell you, ‘Give that Nelson a bowl of fruit’!”

It was good theology, but he still had to wait.

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The older I get, the more I see that life is full of unpleasant waiting. This morning during my prayer time, every situation I prayed over was something I’d been praying about for a long time. In some cases it’s been decades.

God isn’t asleep at the switch, and he’s not ignoring me. To the contrary, every one of my prayers has been heard and answered. But almost every answer has been, “Wait.” There’s a valid reason, though. As I’m asking the Lord to do things in the lives of others, he’s also interested in doing things in mine. And insisting I wait is effective toward that end.

He is also “setting the scene” for the best possible outcome, one that belongs to him.

Thirty years ago when our first three children were three, five and seven, they begged to have their own gardens. We’d had a 50 x 60 ft. kitchen garden in previous years, and although the kids had sporadically participated, Nate and I had done most of the work. They did help husk corn for dinner and pick beans to boil, but of course that was the fun part, the grand finale.

I liked the idea of their own small gardens. It would be a good way to teach the difficult concepts of waiting and delayed gratification. We turned over a strip of dirt on the south side of the garage and divided it into three  sections. After a trip to the local nursery for seed packets and a few plants, they proudly stood in front of their handiwork for photos.

During the weeks to come, my nagging them to weed and water grew old for all of us, but they did have mild success, maybe 30%. As for the other 70%, it was just too hard to labor all summer while waiting for produce.

When it gets hard to wait, especially to see a harvest of spiritual fruit in myself or someone else, it’s helpful to remember God’s description of life’s brevity. Because once I’ve left this world as Nate has done, I don’t want to look back at all I missed and say, “Oh, if I’d only waited!”

“Since the world began, no ear has heard, and no eye has seen a God like you, who works for those who wait for him!” (Isaiah 64:4)

Running On Time

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Yesterday I came across a coupon that expired last month. It had been good for a full year and was worth $8.00, but I didn’t know we had it. The title read, “NICTD CONFIRMATION OF A LATE TRAIN.” Google let me know that NICTD stands for Northern Indiana Commuter Transportation District, and it was clear what had happened.

Nate and I moved from Illinois to Michigan on June 11 of last year. The very next morning he drove to Michigan City, Indiana, and boarded what would become his daily commuter train for Chicago’s Loop. Although the ride was twice the length of his Illinois commute, he didn’t seem to mind. Grateful to have finally sold our Chicago house after four years of trying, the longer travel time to work didn’t bother him. That is, until it got too long.

Although Nate often bragged about the punctual Chicago trains, apparently the NICTD didn’t have the same “track record.” Many late trains coaxed them to put a coupon system in place that offered passengers a pay-back for extreme tardiness. Along the side of the coupon it reads, “60+MINUTES LATE.” Now that’s a woefully overdue train.

The cross-shaped punches in Nate’s coupon indicate he was on board this “at least 60+ minutes late” train on his fourth commuting day, returning to Michigan after work. With his back in severe pain by then and his body suffering from hidden pancreatic cancer, he must have been beyond miserable while the train sat on a track neither here nor there.

I can tell from Nate’s oversized handwriting on the coupon that he was also angry. He did follow instructions, though, to “Please print clearly.” Well, at least the “Please print” part. I don’t know why he never redeemed it for the price of his train ticket. Although $8.00 wasn’t big potatoes, he was probably going after it on principle. When someone contracts to be on time, they should be, and each ticket purchased is a mini-contract.

Nate was always on time. If he was late for anything, it was because I had something to do with it, an aggravation during our early years together. He was right to be punctual, and I was wrong to be late. But as married people learn to do when compromise doesn’t work, one partner gives in. And Nate did. I wish I’d tried harder to pull myself together.

But God was watching, appreciating Nate’s desire to be on time. I say that because God is never late, and we are to emulate him. He usually waits until we think he’s already late, but when he comes through, it’s spectacular. In this, he’s trying to teach us, teach me, it’s important to be punctual.

Those who’ve mastered punctuality on earth have already stockpiled some treasure in heaven. Nate gets double credit for his efforts, because he sacrificed his own desires to put the interests of his wife ahead of his own. But both “early people” and “late people” get some time-related perks in paradise. The “earlies” will never again have to struggle with the “lates”, and the “lates” will always have the time they need.

“I trusted in thee, O Lord. I said, ‘Thou art my God. My times are in thy hand’.” (Psalm 31:14-15a)

Look-alikes

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Today I was rummaging around for one of those snap-shut eyeglass cases to protect sunglasses in a beach bag. Since Nate was always careful with his glasses, I looked in his top dresser drawer, and sure enough, there were five snap-shut cases, just the way he left them. One had reading glasses in it. Two had prescription sunglasses. One was empty, and the fifth surprised me. Inside was a small, shiny pair of scissors.

Although Nate occasionally complained about the noise and debris of his school-age children, he didn’t nitpick his adult kids. There was one exception, however. Over the years he couldn’t hang onto a small pair of scissors he kept in our bathroom medicine cabinet and blamed different kids for its repeated disappearance. Eventually he’d always head for Walgreens to buy another one.

Today I discovered how he’d permanently solved the dilemma. He’d bought a scissors and hidden it in a glasses case, which made me laugh. But why did he want tiny scissors anyway?

In all the years we were married, although I often heard about his scissors disappearing, I never asked what he was cutting. Now I know. Tucked in with the scissors was a tiny comb resembling a Barbie doll accessory. It reminded me of something that happened at a wedding reception three years ago.

A young girl came up to us as we stood chatting with another couple, balancing our appetizer plates. Although we didn’t know her, she asked to take Nate’s picture. Would he mind? His quizzical look made her finish his thought. “…because you look just like Donald Trump!”

As I took his appetizers from him, Nate reluctantly agreed. The young photographer asked him to point his finger as if he was saying “You’re fired!” Nate did, albeit without enthusiasm. The rest of us enjoyed the moment much more than he did.

On the way home, he talked about the girl and her photo. “I hope it doesn’t turn up on the internet.” But my surprise came when he added, “I get that all the time downtown.”

“You get what all the time?” I asked.

“Get taken for Donald Trump.”

And that, I decided, was what the scissors and mini- comb were all about. When his brows got too bushy and the likeness became strong, he’d trim and comb them neatly. He wasn’t interested in being taken for Donald Trump.

Folklore says everybody has a double somewhere. I don’t believe it, because God is creative enough not to have to “ditto” anyone. But the concept of doubles is intriguing. Celebrity look-alike contests abound, and the side-by-side photos do grab our attention. Some people even develop flourishing careers based on looking and acting like someone they’re not.

In reality, each of us is exactly who God made us to be.

And he wants us to be ourselves, but makes one exception. He gives permission, actually urges us, to become look-alikes of somebody: him. Although we don’t need a scissors or a mustache comb to develop the resemblance, we do need something much more difficult to acquire: a non-stop attitude of sacrificial love.

Now… if only that were available at Walgreens.

“Imitate God… in everything you do, because you are his dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ.” (Ephesians 5:1-2a)