Monthly Archives: August 2011

Who am I?

Posted on by

Marriage is biblically described as two-becoming-one. A simple visual might be a husband and wife sharing one umbrella, huddled close, clutching the handle together. The two are together inside the one.

Widowhood is a loss of that oneness, which necessitates standing alone beneath the umbrella. That has a familiar feel to it, since independence was the starting point for all of us, but standing alone in widowhood, our umbrella isn’t as straight as it used to be. It flops side-to-side, and after managing it alone for a while, it gets very heavy.

Those of us who were married for decades find ourselves wondering what’s going to happen next. Some hurry into a second marriage, feeling lonely and uncomfortable with the mantle of singleness. Others try to turn back the clock hoping to remake youth’s decisions: a new job, new hairdo, new wardrobe.

A few risk their savings on precarious ventures in a quest for the money husbands once provided. A small number hurt so badly they burrow into widowhood as a permanent identity.

When I became a widow, wise advisers told me not to make any changes for a year. “Don’t move back to Chicago. Don’t give away Nate’s clothes. Don’t join anything. Don’t quit anything. Don’t even rearrange your furniture.”

But we widows find ourselves yearning for a revised life-purpose while still in that recommended holding pattern of preventing change. Eventually, though, the “don’ts” must morph into “do’s”. Although earthly life ended for our men when they died, it didn’t end for us, and none of us should be fooled into thinking we can stay in a partnership that is no more.

As always, we should ask God what to do next. He has a fresh start ready for each of us, a positive purpose for our remaining years, something separate from our marriages. Half-plus-half made one marriage whole, but we’re now half minus half, which is not a marriage at all. None of us wants to continue as half-a-person.

Opening ourselves to a fresh start might seem scary because we love the familiar, but our familiar is gone. Even as I work at writing a book for the first time, I fight nervousness, because the process is unknown and untried. But God brought the opportunity after I asked “what’s next?”, so with confidence in him, I started.

None of us will ever stop missing our other halves. No new beginning can delete what we had, but living inside old memories means missing out on God’s next. Willingly walking with him into the worrisome unknown might even find us closing our umbrellas, because one day we’re going to realize the sun is out, and it’s shining brighter than ever.

“I have a lot more to tell you, things you never knew existed. This is new, brand-new, something you’d never guess or dream up. When you hear this you won’t be able to say, ‘I knew that all along.’ “ (Isaiah 48:6,7, The Message)

 

Fast Friends for the Long Haul

Posted on by

Like many women, I have a number of friends from long ago, relationships that are tried and true. Our one-on-one’s have stood the test of time and will last, we are sure, until death do us part.

I’ve spent the last couple of days with one of these gems, my friend Lynn. We first met as pre-teens at Moody Church during the Eisenhower years. By 1959 we were bonded in a way that has lasted through 52 years.

Lynn and I acted goofy in the early days. For example, we tried smoking when we found a package of Cools under a park bush. After running home for matches, we went back to the park, hid behind a hedge and lit up, swallowing the smoke as if it was a cool drink. It didn’t have much appeal.

We blistered our skin under a sun lamp, trying to get a winter tan. We drenched our hair with peroxide in an effort to go blond. We pulled bad-mannered pranks at the church camp.

But we did good things together, too. We learned to knit and turned out sweaters, hats, mittens and scarves. We supported each other through multiple boyfriends and ended up engaged within a year of each other. We married 9 months apart and were bridesmaids in each other’s weddings. Our husbands became good friends and were in the Army at the same time, though Don rose much higher in the ranks. We became grandmas the same year, and this week we enjoyed being together again… as always.

Life has become more tenuous these days. While Nate was struggling with cancer, Don was battling the aftereffects of a stroke. Rough knocks have gradually changed us, and we talked about how different our perspectives are these days compared to “before”, touching on each decade of our friendship.

We’ve accepted the difficult truth that God sends upsetting experiences our way for our ultimate good. His timing is significant, and he delivers crises based on what we can handle and no more. He has us on his mind continually and stays close through every decade. He’s loves us when we act goofy and forgives when we offend him.

In other words, he’s the perfect Friend.

Lynn and I thoughtlessly set God aside as teens. But this Friend, ever-patient, preserved us through those rocky years and waited for us to turn full-face toward him. Difficulties were part of the reason we did.

Today we howled with laughter in a read-aloud session of our high school letters, but the very best part of these two days has been our conversations about the Lord, his Word and his work in our lives.

When our years conclude as Nate’s have, one-on-one friendship with God will be all that counts.

“Since our friendship with God was restored by the death of his Son while we were still his enemies, we will certainly be saved through the life of his Son.” (Romans 5:10)

 

Wild in the House!

Posted on by

Last night at 1:45 am I was brushing my teeth, the last chore after a long day, when Louisa and her friend Sara came bounding up the stairs. “There’s wildlife in the house! Come quick! It’s big!”

This was a moment custom-designed for Nate, always a champion at man-against-beast within our home. He’d caged a squirrel, a rabbit and a bird, and demolished bumble bees, spiders and horse flies. But in his absence, it had to be me.

“It’s in the pop cans can!” they said, as we approached the noise. I hoped it wasn’t a fox, coyote or raccoon, all of which we’ve recently seen in the neighborhood. Our aluminum can recycling system is over-the-railing into a plastic garbage can at the base of the stairway.

“In there!” Weezi said, pointing.

All 3 of us peered over the railing. “It’s big!” they both said.

In slow, single file we snuck down the steps, Louisa in the lead, following my instructions to gently lift the whole garbage can and carry it outside. But when she moved it, the “big thing” jumped straight up, causing her to drop the can, scream and double-step up the stairs.

That’s when we saw what it was: a half-grown squirrel, frightened to death. All of us leaned over the railing cooing, “Awww, he’s cute!”

We found the garbage lid, covered the can, lifted it outside and set him free. But our encounter with wildlife hadn’t ended. As I reached to turn off the hall light, an 8” dragonfly emerged, the biggest, scariest, buzzingest insect I’d ever seen! Now it was my turn to scurry up the steps. With all the screaming going on, I worried our neighbors would soon appear.

Using the tip of an umbrella to control his flight from a distance, we wore him out until he fell to the floor where we caged him in a bread basket. He, too, tore into the dark night, thankful to be free.

On the way back into the house, we spotted a spider the size of a dime (eliminated today with a broom), and this morning there were mouse droppings across the kitchen counter and stovetop, hints of encounters yet to come.

We didn’t want any of this wildlife in our house, and interestingly, they all regretted being there. I know how they felt, having raced into situations where I didn’t belong. Once inside, it was usually difficult to get out. Occasionally damage would occur, bringing regrets and necessitating apologies.

God offers to spare us from such thoughtlessness, preventing us from running wild. But of course that presumes we trust his wisdom over our own. If we do, he’ll spare us a great deal of grief.

Today we figured out how our wildlife had entered. I’d left the door propped open while carrying boxes in, forgetting to close it.

Too bad they hadn’t asked God whether or not they should have come in.

”When people do not accept divine guidance, they run wild.” (Proverbs 29:18)