Monthly Archives: February 2011

Lookin’ Good!

Posted on by

This afternoon Mary and I talked about “the ravages of time” on our old faces and the magic of plastic surgery. Not that we’d do it, even though the mirror says we should. (It’s easier just to avoid the mirrors.) But this afternoon we did get involved in a face lift of a different sort. The two of us put fresh upholstery on eight dining room chairs, a simple way to “lift” a room.

To be successful, however, requires the right tools. Factory-tightened screws can be difficult to loosen, and succeeding assumes you’ve got the right screwdriver. You also need a staple gun, a tool that doubles as a weapon of mass destruction. Keeping a hammer handy is good for staples that don’t go all the way in, and a box of Band-Aids isn’t a bad idea, either.

Doing something new is never easy, and trudging up the learning curve usually includes a measure of slip-backs: our chair corners ended up with too many folds; staples went in loosey-goosey and needed to be yanked out with pliers and redone; stray fabric peeked out from the chair frame, another re-do; one “staple-shot” grazed my finger and drew blood. But each chair we did got a bit easier and ended up looking a little nicer than the one before.

Isn’t that the way with life? When something new comes to us, particularly something we don’t want to do, we look for ways to procrastinate. When we’re finally forced into it, it’s often not as bad as we anticipated and might even become satisfying. Practice may not make perfect, as the saying goes, but working steadily at something does bring improvement.

God often asks us to do new things we don’t want to do, like love an unlovable person, suffer intense pain, surrender a spouse or a child, care for someone who doesn’t appreciate it, or wait “forever” to see our prayers answered. But we can get better at handling each of God’s assignments by simply cooperating with his tutoring, because he’s the great Supplier of know-how in every set of circumstances. As we tackle what he sends to us, practicing as we go, little by little we work out the kinks. Difficulties lessen, and satisfaction begins to peek out at us.

Of course God’s “chores” are far more complicated than fixing up old chairs, but Mary and I learned a few things today, too. When we started out, our confusion, misuse of tools and lack of knowledge caused us to lose 45 minutes on the first chair seat.

We decided we’d work to improve our time on the next one. There were set-backs and continued failures, but each successive cushion taught us better ways to do the same job. The last chair took us only six minutes, start to finish, and that included a staple refill. Now, gathered around the dining room table, our 22 year old chairs don’t show their age at all.

Hey! Maybe Mary and I could use our improved stapling skills to give each other face lifts!

Jesus said, “Blessed are all who hear the word of God and put it into practice.” (Luke 11:28)

It rocks!

Posted on by

The desk where I sit and write becomes messy quickly and needs frequent de-cluttering. Even when I’ve filed all the papers, put the pens and glasses away and removed the dirty dishes, there’s one item that always stays: my Scripture rocks.

When Nate and I first heard that his cancer would take his life, we resisted accepting what we’d been told. I remember the morning after his diagnosis. My sister Mary had rushed from the Chicago area to Michigan to do what she could, and that next morning I found a beach stone sitting atop my kitchen counter with her writing on it.

It was a Scripture passage meant to encourage both Nate and I, which it did. (See “A Rocky Road,” October 10, 2009.) Two days later I found another rock, and over the next few weeks, nine more, always when we needed them most.

In addition to the Bible verses on each one, the stones were a continual reminder that our lives were built on the solid Rock, Jesus Christ. It helped to know when life became unstable, that this firm foundation would never be shaken.

Earlier this week in Christchurch, New Zealand, everyone and everything was badly shaken by a major earthquake. Buildings collapsed. People were injured or killed. Hundreds have not been found.

Our son Nelson and other leaders at the Youth With A Mission base nearby heard the ominous rumbling immediately before the ground began shaking, most experiencing their first quake. No one at the base was hurt, and they quickly sent representatives to Christchurch to help. In coming days, many more opportunities will present themselves, and these leaders, along with the students who begin arriving this weekend, will do what they can.

Most of us walk around thinking we have a measure of control over our lives. In reality, it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to shake us badly, either physically (an earthquake) or emotionally (cancer). Both can come without warning. Both can snuff out lives. What, then, is unshakeable?

My Scripture rocks.

The words they represent have the power to remain standing through natural disasters, diseases and everything in between. From those verses, come some unshakeable guarantees: the Lord is a stronghold in times of trouble, a firm place to stand, my refuge, a strong tower, a Rock eternal; he wipes away my tears, restores my soul, puts a song in my mouth; he’ll never forsake me, will set me on a high rock, will not allow me to be shaken.

But we were shaken by Nate’s cancer, and the citizens of Christchurch were shaken by the earthquake. So are these verses lying? No. They’re describing truth that applies to our hearts, souls and minds, the real us. As Nate discovered during his last days, everything was taken from him except one thing: the Lord. Earthquake victims learned that same reality this week, and eventually we’ll all experience it.

This truth makes us tremble until we look at what Jesus said on Mary’s heart-shaped rock:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27)

Same facts. Two perspectives.

Posted on by

Last night when Jack and I took our late-night walk, he threw himself into the fresh snowdrifts with his feet in the air six different times, reveling in the doggie-joy of making snow angels. He made six angels in eight blocks, a lot of happy dancing, even for him.

I hadn’t dressed warmly enough and was counting the steps till we got home. By the time we reached our driveway, I was shivering but did my own happy dance while opening the back door. Jack, however, was disappointed the walk was over and planted himself at the street-end of the driveway as if to say, “I wanna stay out and play!” Same facts. Two perspectives.

I often think of Nate in this regard. Although he trembled when he first heard something serious might be wrong, after accepting the terminal diagnosis, he became peaceful. For me it was just the opposite. When I heard “pancreatic cancer,” I stayed strong and was able to encourage Nate. But after he accepted that he would die, I broke down often, aghast at that prospect. Same facts. Two perspectives.

I have a choice to look at my “destiny” as Nate’s wife from two perspectives, too. I can dwell on the negatives brought by his death, or I can view widowhood as my calling. Depending on which of those two viewfinders I’m looking through, I can either self-talk a poor-me mentality, or count my blessings.

Many widows would reject the idea that widowhood is a calling. We think of a calling as something special like being called to missions, teaching or the pastorate. It hints at unique giftings and fulfillment in using them. People are called to singlehood, marriage, motherhood. But widowhood?

The word widow conjures up thoughts of a black widow spider, along with the words toxic, venomous, lethal. Books and movies with the word widow in their titles are dark comedies or scary dramas. At best we think of widows as lonely, disadvantaged and needy. Can it be a calling?

I believe it is. Because I’ve committed my life to God’s leadership, I regularly ask him to superimpose his plans over mine. I tell him I’m willing to go through whatever he decides is best to teach me what he wants me to learn. I know my earthly life is preparation for my eternal life, and I’m aware of the many rough edges he needs to eliminate to get me ready. If coping with widowhood is his way to accomplish that, then being a widow is what I want.

As extreme as that sounds, it jives with Scripture: “God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” I’ve been called according to his purpose, and his purpose for these days is widowhood. But lest I despair, the verse also says God is working for my good, within my widowhood-calling. And when he offers to work in my life in any capacity, I’m for it!

Same facts. Same perspective.

“We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:28,31b)