Yearly Archives: 2010

I know it.

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I often think of Nate and his present-day surroundings. He’s six months gone from us, which translates to six months in the presence of Jesus. Oh, how I wish I knew the extent of his experience! Scripture gives us an inkling, but for the most part, it’s all a question mark.

While walking the Lake Michigan wave-line today, I kept my eyes on the stones, as always. Because of winter’s wild waves, beach glass and choice rocks can easily be found at this time of year. Although I carried a collection bag, my mind was a million miles away, and I hadn’t picked up a single stone.

While I was walking in a familiar place, where was Nate walking? What was he doing? He’s already met Jesus and no doubt has been supernaturally humbled, falling to the ground as we all will when we see our Lord. But has that face-to-the-floor humility continued until now?

My uneducated guess is that once we’ve been brought into a completely right relationship with Jesus, he’ll touch us on the shoulder the way he did John (Revelation 1:17) and say, “Don’t be afraid. Let me show you some of the marvels of paradise and tell you things that will astound you.”

What has Nate seen? What has he been told? Is he gasping with delight? Weeping with gratitude? Singing praise on key? Laughing in unbounded joy?

Is he being told of specific times a guardian angel saved him from accidents? Is he being shown how his prayers were answered? Is he being given the exact meaning of every parable Jesus taught, both the biblical ones and the ones that never got written down? Is he receiving answers to all of his earthly “why” questions?

As I walked along the beach, I felt left out. I know I’m headed for the same miraculous experiences Nate is now having and wouldn’t dream of rushing God’s time table to get there, but I just wanted to understand even part of what was happening to him today. That’s all.

Watching hundreds of stones pass beneath my toes as I walked but picking up none, my eye suddenly landed on something special. Not even half an inch long, it was a stone of nondescript grey. The reason this tiny rock caught my eye, though, was its square shape and the perfect heart carved inside it.

I picked it up and stared at it. As I did, God flooded my mind with a message. “I realize you’re frustrated not knowing what’s happening to Nate. You’re also bothered by not being able to see me, and my interaction with him. You’d love to listen in on our conversation, wouldn’t you? But what about the conversation I’m trying to have with you today? See that stone in your hand? With a million rocks under your feet, what were the odds you’d find that one?”

I knew the answer: a million to one. Although there’s much I don’t know, I do know one critical thing. Jesus loves me. And as I turned toward home, I contributed to the conversation by saying, out loud, “Lord, I know you love me, and I’m thankful for that. I love you, too.”

“You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him now, you trust him; and you rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy.” (1 Peter 1:8)

Secondary Grief

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It’s been six months since Nate died, but it seems like yesterday. Nate’s Hospice office called today, checking on my welfare and that of our family. It isn’t the first time DJ has called, and he’s been instrumental in helping us on multiple occasions. He was the one in charge of the Hospice memorial service we participated in a month ago, and he has connected us with people to talk to, as needed. The Hospice bereavement specialists know what they’re talking about, and several of us have taken advantage of their offers to listen and encourage.

In conversation with DJ this afternoon, I shared about my upcoming trip to England to meet the newborn twins and spend time with our son Hans and his entire family. As we talked about new life coming after the end of Nate’s life, DJ used the expression “secondary grief.”

“This is what you’ll feel when you first look at the new babies and Nate isn’t with you. It’s what you’ll feel when he’s unavailable to ‘hold the babies for a photo,’ and it will surface again when the changes in your son and family represent life moving on without your husband.” Although my eyes filled with tears as he talked, I knew he was right.

Every married couple has a litany of private jokes, little tidbits only the two of them understand, tiny pieces of family history that by themselves are nothing significant but strung together are like the beads of an attractive necklace. In our past visits to England, Nate and I would end the day chatting about what had been seen, heard, experienced, a way to cement the details in our minds. This trip I’ll be ending the day without that chat. Our couple-history has ended, and all the necklace beads have been strung. There aren’t any more. When DJ said, “Prepare yourself for some bittersweet moments along with the happy ones,” I knew he was telling the truth.

Nate’s absence will be palpable and painful. The sense of “never again” will be ever-present, and Nate’s love of travel and particularly of England will make me think, “What a terrible shame.”

I’ve been praying about all this for a while, seeking God’s specific preparation for the trip abroad and this new type of sadness. The primary grieving, me missing Nate, will continue, but the secondary grieving will increase.

DJ prompted me to think about another example of secondary grief, the sadness I experience while watching my own children grieve. Every mother has felt anguish over this, beginning in the pediatrician’s office during those first inoculations. Watching them go through physical pain is difficult, but knowing they’re undergoing emotional pain is torture. Little children, little problems; big kids, big problems.

I struggle in wondering if my children are suffering in silence. I hope not, although because our kids have become adults, I’m not with them daily anymore and may not know. Hospice’s willingness to be available (not just in the town where Nate died, but anywhere) is priceless, and I appreciated talking again to DJ.

Although today had been overcast and wet when Jack and I had made our trip to the beach, as I talked with DJ, the sun broke through. It reminded me that God is watching over us tenderly, sending refreshment exactly when needed, whether it’s sunshine streaming through the window or a phone call coming in from a caring Hospice helper.

“He will feed his flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young.” (Isaiah 40:11)

Stoned

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Some people would say I’ve got rocks in my head, probably with rock-solid reasons. There’s no end to my fascination with stones. Despite there being unnumbered practical uses for rocks, their real appeal is their striking colors and patterns, each telling a tale of origin. God gets all the credit, and collecting and appreciating stones is, in my mind, an activity bordering on worship.

Tonight Jack and I returned from several days in Chicago and couldn’t wait to get back to the beach. I biked, he ran, and we arrived an hour ahead of the sunset. At the water line we were greeted with the mother-lode of beach stones as far as the eye could see. Never without a plastic bag in my pocket (available for collection of dog-product or stones, whichever comes first), I dropped to my knees and began picking through the bounty. Speckled, black, pink, gold, fossil-imprinted, pearl-like, striped and flecked. What’s not to love?

While bagging rocks, I sometimes think of the biblical description of the New Heaven. Part of that description is a list of the different stones God will use to build it:

  • sapphire
  • emerald
  • carnelian
  • chrysolite
  • beryl
  • topaz
  • amethyst
  • jacinth
  • chrysoprase
  • jasper
  • agate
  • onyx
  • pure gold, as clear as glass

After studying descriptions of each of these foundational stones, I realized the majority of them are “see-through.” As someone who is moved by the beauty of earthly rocks, I can’t imagine the thrill of gazing at a city with walls and foundations constructed from these precious stones. I don’t think I could even look at it without a bag to breathe into. That’s probably just one of the many reasons we can’t be transported to heaven without first being changed.

I fully believe the wonders of heaven will knock us flat, even before we get a glimpse of God the Father or Jesus the Son. After all, several biblical personalities were given a quick peek, and falling flat was exactly what happened to them.

When I think about the splendor of heaven, I wonder how much of it Nate has already been allowed to take in. And has he yet been permitted to look in the direction of God’s throne room? Revelation 4 describes this incredible scene in terms of stones, too: “The one sitting on the throne was as brilliant as gemstones… and the glow of an emerald circled his throne like a rainbow.”

While I’m waiting for the overall transformation necessary to witness this wonder (the same change Nate has already experienced through death), I’m content to hunt for striking beach stones that are, for now, as stunning as I can stand.

“But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed! It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye…Those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed.” (1 Corinthians 15:51-52)