Yearly Archives: 2011

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

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God knew what he was doing when he led Nate and I to our Michigan cottage. Unbeknownst to us, the couple right next door would rescue us again and again. Bob and Linda have taken it upon themselves to help widows and others who need… well… just about anything.

Linda cooked monster-sized meals for our whole family throughout Nate’s days of illness. Then after he died, she lovingly coaxed me back into the world of people by repeatedly inviting me to her Bible study.

Bob is a jack of all trades and cheerfully tackles any problem with gusto. He often partners with his friend Gunnar, and the two of them make work look much like play. I’ll never forget the day they came to help when our power went out, the only house in the neighborhood to go dark. After trying all the usual tricks with our old fuse box, they discovered the power line from the house to the street had been strangled by tree bark. Thanks to their creative thinking, my power was restored that same hour.

 

Yesterday afternoon Bob and Gunnar brought my kitchen into the 21st century by installing a dishwasher. After five weeks of dishes-by-hand virtually around the clock while the 15 of us were together, I determined before the relatives returned, I’d have a dishwasher. It’s also possible the endless sickness we passed back and forth during those weeks would have been wiped out by sterilized dishes. At least that was a good excuse to go appliance shopping.

As they worked, I learned that installing a dishwasher requires creative plumbing and electrical skills, as well as a rib cage strong enough to lean on the sharp edge of an under-sink cabinet for a long, long time.

Occasionally I heard them say, “Oh oh,” or “What about this?” as they worked half-in and half-out of the cabinet. But when I asked if there was a problem, they laughed and said, “It’ll all be fine.” And it was.

The first time Bob and Gunnar fixed something for us years ago, I remember saying, “Thanks for the help. I’m sure you’d rather do other things with your afternoon.”

“This is what we like to do,” Bob said, an interesting answer.

Because they’ve solved problems for me again and again, I know it’s true. These men are retired, but not really. They’ve just shifted their work focus. Both love the Lord wholeheartedly and spend a great deal of time volunteering at the church and on outreach projects near and far.

They’ve been first responders to disaster scenes all over the world during their “retirement”, doing whatever needed doing when they got there. Although they’re happy to help the widow next door, they keep their passports handy, too. 

I see them as the hands and feet of Jesus, putting the interests of their neighbors ahead of their own. And best of all, they view the entire world as their neighborhood.

Lucky for me, today they chose to make it a beautiful day in my neighborhood.

“Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself’.” (Matthew 22:37-38)

Frozen Solid

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Here in the Midwest we’ve come to the part of winter we call the deep freeze. Moving from December to January is the difference between a cold refrigerator and a bitter-cold freezer. In December I can leave a can of Coke in the car overnight, and it’ll be delightfully cold for errand-running in the morning. In January it’ll be a Coke-brick.

Weathermen cheerfully tell us tonight’s wind chill will be fifteen below zero, which means when I’m walking Jack just before bedtime my nose will stick together and gloved fingers will sting. People my age who plan ahead are often settled in Arizona or Florida by this time of year, having forgotten all about down-filled coats and fur-lined boots. The rest of us are learning the definition of “hearty” and are finding out whether or not we are.

 

Today I decided to pick up the red Christmas welcome mat lying outside my front door. But when I grabbed it, it was stuck to the flagstone, frozen solid. Forcing it would have either ripped the rug or given me a bad back.

I could have flooded the area with boiling water, waited for the rug to thaw and then pulled it up just before it froze again. But that would have left the front step a danger zone of slippery ice. The wisest choice was to admit the time wasn’t right to pick up the rug and to wait for a thaw in the weather.

Most of us can “force an issue” prematurely with expertise. In the category of parenting alone, I can think of many examples. We force our kids to eat their broccoli, floss their teeth and read their Bibles before they’re ready, never giving them a chance to choose these good things on their own. We coax them to take music or sports lessons they may not want, and we promote friendships they don’t enjoy. We push them toward colleges they didn’t choose and are sure we know who would make the perfect marriage partner.

Our skill at doing things too soon also spills into our spiritual lives. We succumb to the temptation to tell God what he should and shouldn’t do in our lives based on what we see at the moment. Most often it’s to our benefit if he doesn’t comply but acts instead on his own long-range view.

Even as we pour out our needs to him, we should do so with caution, knowing we might be getting ahead of ourselves. We may say, “Give me traveling safety, Lord,” while he’s planning to use our upcoming fender-bender as a useful teaching tool.

We may get stuck wondering why God doesn’t give us our way, why the proverbial “rug” won’t come off the frozen ground right when we want it to. He’s probably just waiting for our hearts to thaw. When they finally do, and when he deems the time is just right, the “rug” will lift with virtually no effort at all.

As for my red welcome mat? I guess I’m ready for Valentine’s Day.

“God catches the wise in their own craftiness, and the schemes of the wily are brought to a quick end.” (Job 5:13)

When charity knocks, open the door.

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I owe my friend Connie a phone call. She left a voice mail yesterday, and I haven’t gotten back to her yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about her.

She and I have been friends for sixty-plus years, having grown up together at Moody Church. Among her many talents is being a fabulous cook. Since I’m not a very good one, I’ve always appreciated her ability in the kitchen and have gobbled up many a meal from her hands.

But one particular incident will always come to mind when I think of Connie. It involved food but no cooking, and it happened 16 years ago. On a frosty morning in 1994, she stepped through my kitchen door carrying two overloaded grocery bags.

 

Wiping the dishwater from my hands, I said, “What’s all this?”

“Never mind,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

I followed her outside, oblivious to the winter winds, questioning her as I went. “What’s going on?” But I stopped short when I saw eight more big brown bags lined up in her car.

“The Lord told me to do something,” she said, “and I’m just doing what I’ve been told. You’re getting your kitchen stocked.”

“Oh no,” I said. “You can’t do that!”

But she deflected my objections. “Don’t get in the way of a blessing.”

Our family had been struggling financially for several years, and for me as a stay-at-home mom of seven, panic was never far away. This day a couple of my cabinet shelves were completely empty, shelves that once couldn’t hold their bounty.

“What do you mean,” I said, “by the Lord telling you what to do?”

“In Bible study this week one verse mentioned helping those in need. I knew it was God’s message for me to help you. So don’t object. I’ve gone over your head and gotten special permission.”

My eyes filled and I threw my arms around this true friend. I hadn’t told her of my rising fear over the near-empty refrigerator or mentioned that our dinners had boiled down to a choice between pancakes and soup. Yet God had, through his Word, given Connie specific instructions. Best of all, she’d obeyed. Knowing her family was also on a strict budget, I appreciated her gifts even more.

It’s difficult to accept charity. Giving is much easier than receiving. As I stood in my replenished kitchen that afternoon feeling guilty for accepting Connie’s groceries, God reminded me that charity is just another word for love. Connie had demonstrated godly love, which humbled me and simultaneously lifted me up.

 

Later that same day my four year old (who had witnessed the food delivery) made a wise assessment of what had happened. “Your friend sure shares good, Mom.”

I had to agree. Connie had stocked our shelves, lifted my spirits, impacted a four year old, and gained another star in her heavenly crown. 

I think I’ll give her a call.

“Don’t forget to do good and to share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God.” (Hebrews 13:16)