Yearly Archives: 2010

Doggy Dress-up

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We might live in a dog-eat-dog world, but plenty of people still love dogs, and Nate was one of them. When he’d arrive home from work, Jack would trot over to receive the head-pats he loved. Nate ascribed personalities to each pet and considered an animal’s point of view. He also loved the soft feel of their ears.

There was one oddity, however, about Nate’s involvement. He liked to dress them up. When I’d ask why, he’d just shrug. “They’re so cute that way.”

When our girls used to play with dolls, he’d borrow an extra dress, hat, whatever they would loan. If an outfit was too small for a dog, he’d dress one of the cats. If no clothes were available, he’d use his hankie as a babushka, tied under a furry chin. “Get the camera!” he’d say.

In an effort to figure out Nate’s fascination with animal dress-up, I’d ask, “Is this about the miniature clothes? Or maybe a wish that our pets were human? An idea for a new business? An underlying desire to have more children?”

But in 40 years, I never figured it out. Our kids would watch their father in amusement, enjoying his laughter but chalking it up to the foibles of an older generation.

We’ve all seen TV spots featuring animals doing human things: the horse that counts with his hoof, the chimp that obeys sign language, the dog that alerts his family to a fire. We love them all. Maybe Nate’s fascination with dressing our pets was an effort to elevate them a notch, as these shows tried to do.

My best guess was that a dog wearing a sweater and glasses, sitting patiently with a serious expression, was a visual oxymoron Nate relished. His business world forced rationality and logic, and at home he needed to be the voice of reason in every discussion. A cat in a bonnet was jolly comic relief.

Today at the beach a couple dragged two yellow kayaks through the sand to the shoreline. Sitting proudly in one of them was a small white poodle. As they passed me, his owner said, “He loves a good ride.”

I saw what she meant after she snapped on her own life jacket and then produced one for the dog. Although the lake had white caps today, this poodle stood at the bow, leaning into breaking waves like the ornamental figurehead on an ancient ship. Even while taking water in the face, he never flinched.

When they returned an hour later, the dog still hadn’t had enough. Although they set him on the sand, his choice was to sit back in the kayak wearing his life jacket, gazing at the waves. Nate would have been all over this scenario, asking questions of the couple, patting the dog and loving the outfit. I wish he could have been there.

I believe the following “outlandish statements” are true:

Animals matter to God, because they’re a part of his “good” creation, and he’s pleased when we delight in them. In heaven, animals will be there as part of creation’s restoration, and when we’re in conversation with them, we can ask Nate’s pets exactly what they thought of their earthly outfits.

On second thought, they may be dressed in heavenly outfits at the time we ask. If that’s true, Nate’s joy will know no bounds.

”As I watched, I heard an eagle that was flying in midair [in heaven] call out in a loud voice… to the inhabitants of the earth…” (Revelation 8:13)

Really?

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Although it seems incongruous, widowhood has its perks. Lest you think I’ve suddenly stopped missing Nate, I haven’t. His face, voice and personality run through every one of my daytime hours and often into the night. But several of my widowed friends are now encouraging me to count an unusual type of blessings.

For example, today I left the house on an errand-running excursion at 4:30. Around 6:30, I subconsciously knew I should get home to start supper. Nate used to walk in the door at 7:10 every weekday (6:50 when we lived near Chicago), and he loved to smell dinner waiting for him. It was a moment he looked forward to throughout each day, so I tried to make it happen.

Tonight as I pushed my cart from Walmart’s grocery aisles to its pet section, it dawned on me that I needn’t hurry. Nate wasn’t on his way home, a bittersweet thought, mostly bitter. But there was a bit of sweetness to it, too. I could finish my errands before heading home, a small thing but something my widow-experienced pals have told me to count as a blessing.

This is new for me, and it doesn’t always sit well. Although I looked for positives during every one of Nate’s 42 cancer-days, this kind of blessing-hunt seems different, something akin to betrayal. Feeling gratitude for a benefit that comes to me only because Nate died seems wrong, even though I’m trying to look on the bright side of life.

Does God want me to seek out these blessings of widowhood? Even before I answered my own question, I came up with something positive. Nate liked music, but very little of it. He never failed to appreciate an Elvis number, but his first choice was not to have music playing in the house at all. He thought it inhibited conversation.

My thinking was that music or radio added a dimension to chores, meals, entertaining, almost anything. Nate asked me only three times if we could “turn that off,” but I got his drift. After that, when he drove in the driveway, his tooting horn was my cue to click off the music. Sometimes I resented doing it, but wanting him to think of his home as his haven, I did it anyway. So what about now? Now I can listen to music around the clock if I choose. It’s a small thing but does qualify as a plus.

My guess is there are many widows who continue in the patterns of their marriages because they want life to stay the same as it was. I read of one widow who began doing what her husband wanted her to do, after he died. That doesn’t make sense, unless she was motivated by guilt or remorse. Complying with his wishes after his death probably wouldn’t soothe either one.

What is the proper balance between a merry widow like Scarlett O’Hara and one who can’t move out of the darkness at all? I believe God gifts us with good things every single day, all of us. Some gifts are obvious, and others are hidden, requiring us to search for them. Following this logic, a woman receives blessings when she is a wife but then also when she’s a widow. After a husband dies, his wife might be lost in grief for some time, but God showers her with good things even while she weeps. The person who can’t heal at all might simply need to hunt for the Lord’s touch on her life. When she finds it, her grief will ease.

I’m beginning to see new things as I move through the months, ways in which God is sustaining, encouraging and blessing me. And if Nate read this post about the music issue, he’d say, “Turn up the radio, Dear, and let music fill the cottage!”

“Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light.” (Micah 7:8b)

Know or Be Known

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Mom used to tell me she learned new things about Dad even after 50 years of marriage, but I couldn’t imagine it. Recently, though, I discovered something new about my own husband, who I haven’t seen for eight months. Actually, I discovered two things.

A guest at our cottage stumbled across a copy of “The Flashback,” a school yearbook published in 1958. It has Nate’s name printed on the inside flap, and his picture is on several of its 55 pages. He looks younger than his 12 years, but that might be because none of the cynicism of adolescence had yet set in.

Apparently Churchill Junior High School was brand new that year, opening its doors to 1000 students 53 years ago, on September 3, 1957. I went on line and learned the school is still functioning, although today it isn’t labeled “state of the art” as it was in the fifties.

Paging through the yearbook is a lesson in American history. Girls wore skirts or dresses with saddle shoes and rolled down socks. The rule, said one girl, was “blouses tucked in or a trip to the advisor’s office.” The boys had short hair, tucked shirts, belts, slacks, no blue jeans.

So, what did I learn about Nate? First of all, I never knew he played football! I did know of his interest in the high school newspaper (the editor) and the debate team (the captain) but was surprised to see him kneeling in the second row with the team (far left). In 40 years of marriage I never saw Nate toss a football, and he attended games only to see Hans play in the marching band.

The second surprise was his keen interest in girls. At the age of 12, he was already watching carefully. His yearbook has a penciled X next to the faces of those he considered cute and a line under their names. He’d selected eight girls in all.

I loved reading the farewell messages on the autograph pages, particularly the one that mentioned one of the X-ed girls: “Nathan. To a good friend who kept me up (April 12, Sunday morning) to 2:00 AM on Marilyn and her features. Lots of Luck. Bruce.” Had I seen this gem a year ago, I could have asked Nate a few questions.

None of us can know everything about somebody else, not even a long-term spouse. That’s because we’re good at covering things up, and we don’t necessarily even want to be fully known. But Scripture tells us God does know us fully, like it or not. It doesn’t affect what he feels about us, though, and what he feels is intense love.

Nothing we do surprises him or changes his mind about us. This is a huge relief, because it means we don’t have to play games or hide anything from him.

I’m sure young Nate hid his feelings about Marilyn and never let her know how enamored he was of her “features”. But all in all, it’s probably best that she never knew.

“God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)