Monthly Archives: May 2011

A Meeting of the Minds

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When Nate and I had been married for three years, Nelson was on the way, and we knew life was about to change radically. So when I was six months pregnant, we decided to take a trip to Italy, figuring it might be our last chance. It was just the two of us, although technically Nelson came, too.

We rented a little Renault and roamed the country for two weeks, from Rome to Milan, having the time of our lives. As we left, we vowed to return.

Nate had been a history major in college, and he never met a fact he didn’t memorize. His knowledge of world history lit a flame of desire to travel to the places he’d studied as a student, but everyday commitments (and his big family) gave him a different journey. In recent years, however, time to travel began coming into focus.

Then his health failed.

Gradually he realized his dream to visit historical sites wasn’t going to come true. He said, “Even though I never got to go to the places I’d hoped, at least my kids have seen the world.” He was referring to the five who’d been on mission trips, several of them literally circling the globe.

I feel sad he missed out on so much and wish I’d worked toward at least one historical tour. Our good friend Erwin Lutzer leads tours in Europe, and one of them had a strong pull for Nate: the Reformation Tour.

He talked longingly about that itinerary, hoping to go. Having grown up in a Lutheran Church, he’d read much about and by Martin Luther and actually knew the contents of the 95 theses. He would have relished seeing the church where they had been presented.

This morning as I thought about Nate’s unmet travel goals, God sent immediate comfort in an interesting way. Out of “the blue” came this thought: “You can stop bemoaning that Nate never took the Reformation Tour, because he knows Martin Luther personally now and has gotten the whole thing directly from him.”

How silly of me, dreaming about earthly pleasures for a heaven-dwelling Nate! That’s like bouncing a five year old on my knee and saying, “Now isn’t that much better than Disneyland?”

Many years ago I taught our little children to sing the Sunday school chorus, “My God is so BIG!” They internalized the message easily, ascribing all the good parts of “big” to God, with childlike faith. If we adults would enlarge our view of the Lord and his kingdom, we’d spend much less time regretting and much more anticipating.

So as good a guide as Pastor Lutzer is, I think Nate has probably lost interest in joining his Reformation Tour.

”Blessed are those who die in the Lord from now on. Yes, says the Spirit, they are blessed indeed.” (Revelation 14:13b)

Being Prepared

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Although I’ve never been a champion at preparation, Nate was. It’s one of myriad qualities I admired about him when we first met and is a perfect illustration of opposites attracting. For 40 years his example tutored me in how to get ready for things (which is not to say I was a quick study).

Life offers unnumbered commitments for which we ought to be prepared: the first day of school, meeting an airplane, tax day, having enough gas to get to our destination. When these predictables take us by surprise, a finger can usually be pointed at the faulty party.

But sometimes we come up short on preparation because we didn’t have a clue something was coming: a premature baby, a tornado, a traffic accident, a cancer diagnosis.

And then there’s the big one, death. Even in the case of long-term illness, when death snatches a loved one, none of us are fully prepared.

Tomorrow I’ll attend the memorial service of a 32 year old young man who died suddenly, without explanation. To be prepared for that was impossible.

Although this man’s parents stood in front of a church and dedicated him to God when he was a baby, that didn’t feel like preparation for death. When they let him go off to school “on his own” each morning, that separation was nothing compared to the separation of death.

When they prayed for him, asking God’s will to be done in his life, they were opening themselves up to whatever God chose to bring. But death? They weren’t thinking of that.

It’s an encouragement to know God sees what’s coming when we don’t. Just as parents paint the nursery before the baby arrives and load the back pack before the first school day, God the Father gently moves the pieces of our lives into position before the unexpected hits us. Within the tumult, we can’t see it. But later, usually much later, we look back and say, “Oh, that was him there… and again there.”

Our family found this to be true. Several months after Nate died, my kids and I actually drew up a list of God’s “positionings” among us before the whirlwind arrived.

Getting a glimpse of this divine preparation on our behalf doesn’t lessen anyone’s sadness while going through it, but it softens the raw reality. And when we turn around to search for God, we see how he was there throughout, and can’t help but feel his love because of it.

“Father, prepare me for whatever is next.”

“Those who cleanse themselves… will be instruments for special purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work.” (2 Timothy 2:21)

Lost and Found

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Today’s beach trip revealed a surprise, literally. When Birgitta and I came over the dune ready to enjoy a hazy but lovely afternoon together, we saw that someone had dug a giant hole in the sand. And sitting in the middle of it was the previously-buried blue kayak that I watched sink below the sand many months ago. (1/25/11 – “Hidden Away”)

During winter storms the beach’s configuration had changed, and the shallow covering of sand I remembered had grown a foot deep. Seeing that this “lost” boat had been found was very satisfying. The fact that someone was actually hunting for it meant even more.

All of us feel lost once in a while, and when we do, we ache to be found. I remember feeling lost at 13, that awkward age between childhood and adolescence when kids struggle to find their place.

My parents viewed me as a child, but my changing body (pimples and other surprises) told me otherwise. Having moved to a new neighborhood, I’d lost my old friendships and felt like a bottom-feeder at school. My older sister was a beauty, my younger brother a prince, and I longed for a label, too.

Everything came to a head one Sunday morning at Moody Church. I’d asked a Sunday school pal to come home with me for lunch, but she couldn’t, and I took it personally. I started to cry on the church steps, and when Mom arrived she said, “What’s the matter?”

Feeling like I couldn’t possibly summarize my many woes in one sentence I said, “Nobody loves me.”

Now that I’ve mothered seven children through being 13, I see how that conversation was doomed. What statement could possibly have offered the comfort I needed at that moment?

“Oh honey, that’s not true.” Mom said. “Your father and I love you, and so does…” (glancing around) “…so does Caroline!”

Caroline was my brother’s pal, 4 years younger than me, just a little kid. Mom’s “comfort” only deepened my conviction that no one loved me, and my life was without purpose. I felt lost and ached to be found.

God is in that exact business, finding the lost and lavishing his love on them. And he even goes one step further, allowing us to find him, not only when we seek him but even when we don’t. His desire is that none of us feel lost but instead all of us know the delight of being found.

I’ve learned since my crisis on the church steps that most 13 year olds feel as I did, and it quickly passes.

As for this afternoon’s newly visible kayak, if it could talk it would say, “I was lost but now am found!”

“I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me. To a nation that did not call on my name, I said, ‘Here am I, here am I’.” (Isaiah 65:1-2)