Yearly Archives: 2011

Giver of Life

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When I was two (1947), Santa brought me my first baby doll. She had a cloth body, a hard plastic head, and was about the size of a real newborn. Something inside clicked when I first held her, and from then on, she was my constant companion. I named her Becky and lovingly cared for her.

By the time I was 7, I began wishing Becky would come to life. Some little girls beg their mommies to have another baby, but I didn’t want that. I wanted Becky to be my baby, not mom’s.

In Sunday school I’d been taught two important concepts: (1) God said we could ask him for anything, and (2) God could do anything he wanted. So every night before I went to bed, I tucked Becky into her doll crib and prayed over her. “Dear Jesus, please turn Becky into a real baby.”

That first morning when I found she was still a lifeless doll, I was baffled. God had made Adam real from clay, so I didn’t doubt he could “fix” Becky, too. With confidence and determination, I decided to pray every night until he granted my request.

If ever the expression “faithful in prayer” applied, it was then. I didn’t miss a night, asking God again and again to bring Becky to life. Wasn’t he hearing me? Didn’t he understand the request or my longing for it? Wasn’t I good enough to get one favor from God? Did he lie when he said he could do anything?

Most of us find ourselves asking those same questions even as adults. We pray for something worthwhile, and when it doesn’t happen, we question God’s wisdom and our faith in him. We wonder if the scriptural promises are true and if they are, why they don’t apply to us.

As a young girl in a faith crisis, I finally went to Mom. She explained that God had indeed heard all my prayers and had even answered them all… with a “no”. According to her, God knew a third grade girl couldn’t care for a real baby. She said, “Who would babysit when you were in school or out playing?” I didn’t have an answer.

For the most part I bought her reasoning, but inwardly I was frustrated with God. If he was going to say “no”, he could have at least given me the reason. But even now, 60 years later, he doesn’t usually give reasons for why he says “no” to prayers. Instead he wants me to trust that he does hear me and answers according to what’s best for me.

In my case, the “no” about Becky was permanent. I still have her, and she’s still a lifeless doll. But behind that childhood “no” God quietly whispered a “wait”. Actually it was more like, “But just you wait!” Twenty years later, when the time was right, he changed his “wait” to “yes”!

And along came Nelson, Lars, Linnea, Klaus, Hans, Louisa and Birgitta, 7 real live babies.

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4)


A Secret Society

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Although some people designate the month of April for spring cleaning, at my house we’re making messes.

When Nate and I moved into this cottage full time in June of 2009, the house was ready for a face lift. Its colors were the same ones we registered at the Marshall Fields bridal registry in 1969: psychedelic oranges, yellows, and greens. After we got married, we stuck with that color scheme for about two years, but the Michigan house was stuck there still.

Our 2009 summer as new Michigan residents was a mixed blessing. We were glad to be here, but Nate’s back was bothering him intensely. Neither of us knew that very soon we would learn of his cancer, and our plans would be permanently altered.

But before all that, I remember an evening when the two of us sat amidst the boxes and talked of fixing up the house. I was all about paint and throw rugs, but he was thinking bigger. He saw new windows, air conditioning, fresh siding, even a larger kitchen.

About a year after Nate died, I was finally ready to begin on the plans we’d made together. We painted the rooms and laid down the throw rugs. At Christmas time we tackled the windows. This month our goal was to get rid of the last of the musty cottage smell by way of pulling up the wild orange, yellow and red carpeting in the sunroom. Because of former roof leaks and wobbly floors, everything beneath the carpet had to go, too, an interesting combination of several layers of wood.

After the floor had been rebuilt and prepped for tile, Drew started on the back stairs. As he pulled up the old, carpeted boards one by one, an odd-shaped space beneath the stairway and its two landings became exposed to light for the first time. Although we found storage bins that had been shoved into that small area, daylight illuminated what had been a secret.

A  cramped, dark place we thought had been useless has actually been of great use to quite a few others. Sweeping between the stair supports, I found a stash belonging to chipmunks, carefully stacked piles of dry dog food. Spider webs decorated every corner, many of them occupied, and mice had used the area as a bathroom.

When I came to a cluster of acorns, I wondered if Little Red and his squirrel-pals had somehow snuck in there, too.  And all this while we’d been upstairs, blissfully unaware of the secret society below us.

As I swept, I thought of my own secret places where tiny sins can move in and live without me noticing. That’s the way Satan wants it, quiet and ignored, until a secret society of sins has taken up residence. By the time I become aware of the neighborhood of nasties I’ve overlooked, it ends up to be a major eviction project.

While Drew continues to make a springtime “mess” toward home improvement, it might be good for me to do some internal spring cleaning… right after I call the exterminator.

“How can I know all the sins lurking in my heart? Cleanse me from these hidden faults.” (Psalm 19:12)

Thank you.

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Those of us who started attending church when we were on the cradle roll are happy to talk about God. We’re usually faithful to pray, and we’re even comfortable with praying out loud if asked. After all, Jesus became our childhood friend as we met him through flannelgraph stories in Sunday school. Talking to him was much like talking to any of our other friends.

Then we grew older and learned there was more to it than that. We realized God wasn’t on a par with any of our other friends but was unique, superior, someone who merited reverence and awe, and the utmost of respect.

Eventually we were taught that to fear the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and surely approaching God ought to be done as wisely as possible. Did that mean he wanted us to be afraid of him when we prayed? If so, then why did he tell us to “come as little children” and “come boldly to the throne of grace?” Can we come to him that way if we’re afraid?

At the very least, fearing God probably means respecting his authority and power. He’s the ultimate in both categories and can do anything he wants with anything he’s created, which includes us. If we’re on his bad side, he is to be feared indeed, since he will judge all of mankind. He also wants us to revere him as God of gods, holy and perfect.

While I was contemplating what might be the wisest way to approach the Lord, probably making it more complicated than it needed to be, I heard someone pray a wise prayer. Sandy was asked to pray at the conclusion of our women’s Bible study today. We’d had a discussion about true wisdom and fearing God. If I’d been the one praying, I probably would have started by begging God to give us more wisdom, but not Sandy.

She started by thanking God for who he is and continued to list reasons all of us were thankful for him. The middle of her prayer was more gratitude, one thing after another, and she concluded with a final series of thank you’s. Her prayer was all about the Lord and nothing about us.

How unusual, I thought, to pray for several minutes without ever asking for anything. It was simply thank you… thank you… thank you.

And it was wise.

“The Lord said… ‘Gather the people to me, that I may let them hear my words, so that they may learn to fear me all the days that they live on the earth, and that they may teach their children so’.” (Deut. 4:10)