Yearly Archives: 2012

Rich and Famous

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In 1993 my mom and Aunt Joyce put together a two week trip to Sweden for 6 of us: my sister Mary and I, our two oldest daughters (Julia and Linnea), and themselves. Off we flew to visit relatives and see the sights, two teenagers, two 40-somethings, and two 70-somethings.

After a delightful time with gracious extended family and lots of yummy Swedish tartas (cakes), we headed home by way of a 3 day stay in London. As our plane approached Heathrow Airport, we discussed what sights each of us hoped to see. Our daughters had only one request, “We wanna meet Princess Diana!”

We 4 adults chuckled at their far-fetched idea, since Lady Di was the darling of the royal family at that time, and more people clamored to see her than Prince Charles and Queen Elizabeth combined. The international press charted her every move, and she seemed to have the world on a string. Why would she want to meet with a handful of assertive Americans?

After settling in at our downtown hotel, Mom and Aunt Joyce gratefully put their feet up while the rest of us set out to find a princess, someone we weren’t even sure was currently in the country.

As we walked into the night without a clue about where we were going, the girls collected information from strangers passing by. They learned that their favorite celebrity was, indeed, in the country and that she was actually in London at a theater within walking distance of us. Excitement grew as we raced toward the royal dance performance of “Romeo and Juliet.” Our girls hoped Lady Di wanted to meet them as much as they wanted to meet her.

When we got to the theater at 10:30 PM, a small crowd was gathering outside, and police were setting up barricades to keep us away from Diana. Fifteen feet from the front door stood her dark green Jaguar at-the-ready much like Cinderella’s coach. Diana’s driver was waiting beside the car door.

Julia and Linnea, ever hopeful, told a tall, handsome bobby they just had to meet Diana and wanted to know how they could. Bemused by their boldness but wanting to help he said, “She may head for her car or mingle with the crowd, depending on her mood. But if you want to ‘up’ your chances, go buy a bouquet. The princess likes to be photographed with flowers.”

Off they went in search of any kind of flowers they could find at 11:00 pm. Returning in 15 minutes with two bedraggled bunches of orange day lilies, they pushed their way through the growing crowd to the front where we’d saved their places next to the barricade. Their bobby friend smiled at their wilting lilies but had some bad news. Diana also liked to be photographed with young children, and in their absence, two adorably dressed little girls had arrived with their mum and were standing near the theater door.

It was a toss-up. Would the princess go for the girls, the flowers, or the dark green Jaguar? All eyes were riveted on the front door, and when we heard dignified clapping coming from inside the theater, we knew she was on her way out.

(…to be continued)

“God shows no favoritism… He accepts those who fear him and do what is right.” (Acts 10:34-35)

 

An Interest in Interruptions

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Last night when I snuggled under my own quilt in my own bed I thanked God I wasn’t over-nighting in a hospital like the night before. Not that Rush isn’t a beautiful facility with a solicitous staff, but all of us rest best in our own beds. My 14 hour stay in the ER was an unexpected interruption to my weekend plans, but when it was over, that’s all it had been: an interruption.

All of us like to plan our lives, even people like me who aren’t that organized. We enjoy predicting what’ll happen when, then watching it work out exactly that way. When interruptions rearrange things, we get annoyed. It feels like riding in a people-packed car and being asked to squeeze in a few more. Ugh.

Jesus was a champion at shuffling his day to embrace interruptions. If he resented them, Scripture doesn’t let us know. We might think, “Yes, but when someone stopped him it was for an important reason. My interruptions are small potatoes.”

But Jesus had a choice of how to respond in each case, just as we do. Although we’ve never heard the literal voice of Jesus, I can’t imagine him reacting in a biting tone, “Get away from me! I don’t have time right now.”

Others around him sometimes said that, but never him. He seemed to view an approaching interrupter as a chance to get to know a stranger or satisfy a need. I wish I could faithfully mimic that, but rearranging plans doesn’t come without balking first. It requires setting aside what I’ve already set as my #1 priority and substituting something lesser, at least lesser to me.

But as we watch Jesus, he acts just the opposite. The Bible says, in reference to his responses to interruptions, “He was deeply moved,” or “He felt compassion.”  Sometimes he was hit with so many consecutive interruptions he didn’t even have a chance to eat or time to rest, yet he continued to steadily dispense kindness and grace.

If I resist the interruptions God sends (which he doesn’t label as interruptions), I could be missing out on some of life’s greatest perks. Jesus held each day lightly, even each hour, faithfully watching for his Father’s signals to do this or that, go left or right. Humanly speaking, he didn’t know what awaited, and no doubt there were situations he didn’t want to participate in, episodes that brought on stress. But when he cooperated, which was always, miracles happened. And he got to take part in them.

It’s possible that the more I’m willing to embrace interruptions with anticipation, the greater my chance of participating in God’s miracles… even if some day it means trying to get cozy in a hospital bed.

“Great crowds came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many others, and… he healed them. Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I have compassion for these people.” (Matthew 15:30,32)

Wait-and-See

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Between my sister’s family and mine, we’ve racked up 25 trips to local emergency rooms. Admittedly, most were a result of raising 14 adventurous children, but we adults have to take credit for some of them. Yesterday it was my turn.

One week ago a searing pain took over my left side so powerfully I couldn’t move to reach my phone or get enough breath to yell for Birgitta in the next room. It raged for nearly an hour before subsiding but eventually went away completely.

Later that day I told Louisa and Birgitta about it but asked them to keep it quiet. Although they honored my request, they pressured me to tell my sister Mary, our family nurse. I knew if I did, she’d insist I take immediate medical action, so I decided instead to just wait-and-see.

As the week progressed, other curious symptoms popped up: two sharp pains in the upper back, occasional dizziness, achy feelings in my chest, extra fatigue. Were these warnings about an approaching heart event? I didn’t want to risk damage by waiting, but didn’t want to over-react either. So I did what I always do when I don’t know what to do.

I asked God, then decided to just wait-and-see.

A short while later, I was catching up on emails and among them was a friend’s description of an adult daughter’s new heart problem. She also shared about her husband’s unexpected heart procedure at age 70. All I could think was, “Lord, you’ve answered my prayer, and now I know what to do.”

I told Mary.

Although I wasn’t in severe pain, within 90 minutes I was packed and driving from Michigan to Chicago where the two of us walked into the E.R. at Rush Medical Center. Approaching the check-in desk I casually said, “I’m having mild chest pain and…”

In seconds I was tucked into a wheelchair and whisked toward multiple blood tests, a chest x-ray, a rolling EKG, an IV line, and hospital admittance. I didn’t even have time to notify my children. My medical adventure culminated in this morning’s treadmill stress test, monitored by a doctor, a nurse, and a tech.

The upshot of the whole episode? I’m 100% heart-healthy with less than a 1% chance of ever having a heart attack.

So what was that all about? Maybe it was to prompt gratitude for the days I’m not in an ER. It could have been to get educated about heart-health, which we did. Maybe it was to newly appreciate my sister’s love and concern. Possibly it was a dress rehearsal for what’s coming, or a test of whether or not I really trust God when trouble hits. I guess I’ll just wait-and-see.

The whole thing leaves me with several questions, but I may never get the answers. Though ER docs suggested I follow-up with my regular internist this week, I think I’ll just…

wait-and-see.

“Keep watch over me and keep me out of trouble; don’t let me down when I run to you.” (Psalm 25:20, The Message)

Top-notch Bonding

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Birgitta shared something interesting with me the other day. She’s nearly 18 weeks pregnant, and like most moms-to-be, she’s carefully watching what she eats, drinks, and does. Though she hasn’t met her child, she’s already well into motherhood. This is one of God’s mysteries, and I’m enjoying watching it unfold.

The interesting thing she shared was, “I knew I’d have a relationship with my baby even while I was pregnant, but I didn’t realize I’d already be worrying about him or her.”

A woman’s desire to help her developing child can become a worrisome burden. If she drinks coffee, baby gets caffeine. If she falls, baby takes the blow. If she doesn’t eat right, baby struggles to grow. If she takes drugs, baby experiences addiction. So a mother tries to do everything right and has concern for the little person she hasn’t yet met. As I’ve watched and listened to Birgitta, I’ve been pleased to see her respond to her new but difficult assignment with maturity. She’s willingly made numerous changes in her life in order to be the best mother she can be… already.

Jesus was never a mother and neither was God, but both made reference to behaving in motherly ways. God said he would comfort us with mother-like comfort, as well as keep us in his thoughts like a nursing mother thinks of her child’s needs, around the clock. He was saying, “I’m thinking of your best interests constantly. I love you intensely and want to let you know you’re always on my mind.”

Mothers are joined to their unborn children in a way fathers can’t be, so they have a jump on the parent-child relationship, both the joys and the worries. My experience through 7 pregnancies bore this out, since Nate didn’t begin bonding with our newborns until he held them in his arms and studied their little faces. But I’d been hooked 9 months before that.

This same lack of pre-born bonding was evident in Nate after I’d had a miscarriage. When I wept over our loss, he felt badly for me and consoled me, but couldn’t relate to (and didn’t grieve for) our lost baby.

Why does God set up this ultra-close connection between mother and child? It’s probably because babies are so needy that one person has to have enough attachment from Day #1 after he/she is born to willingly give up life’s basics (personal hygiene, regular meals, adequate sleep) for the baby’s survival.

God takes advantage of this tight relationship in another way, too, explaining how he feels toward us. In Jesus he gave up far more than hygiene, meals, or sleep in order to be intimately bonded with us and to help us survive. He surrendered his whole life in the effort, and that works out really well for anyone who wants to be close to God.

Although men can’t experience the pre-birth bonding women do with babies, the Lord does let them in on a bonding that’s even more important… the one with him.

“Our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ.” (1 John 1:3)

 

The Benefits of Nostalgia

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My dad was born in 1899 and grew up in a Chicago that had dirt roads and wooden sidewalks. The women wore floor-length dresses, and ordinary folk didn’t own cars, telephones, or electric anything. Most people never traveled farther than the blocks of their own ethnic neighborhoods, and national election results were announced with fireworks.

My sister, brother, and I heard fascinating tales about Dad’s growing up years and hoped to preserve them for generations to come. Video cameras weren’t available in the early ’80′s, but we did have cassette players, so we decided to record his remembrances as we followed him to each of his childhood homes and neighborhoods, taking pictures along the way to accompany the tape. No one was more thrilled about this than him.

Years after Dad died, we did something similar with Mom, and today Mary and I talked about our own children, wondering if they’d be interested in preserving our histories as we had with our parents. This morning we decided to make a preliminary tour of the pertinent sights from our younger days, planning how we might organize the information. At each house from our pasts, we knocked on the door and walked around the property. No one was home.

Our last stop was Nate’s and my first house, beautifully maintained since we’d last lived there 37 years ago. The owner, working at home, answered our knock and, after hearing why we were interested, enthusiastically invited us in.

Although the house had been reconfigured in several minor ways, it was much the same. In the upstairs bathroom I recognized the tiny floor tiles and old toilet and tub. “High quality,” the man said. “No need to replace them.” I looked at the tub and remembered the early morning in 1973 when I sat on the edge of it trying to decide if I was in labor or not, and several hours later, we became parents.

As we walked through each room, old memories flooded my mind and Mary’s, too. The man seemed interested and asked us endless questions about the house. We left promising to send photos from the 1970’s and the original house listing.

Why is it so much fun to rehash the old days? Maybe it’s a validation of the path we’ve walked. Maybe it’s a longing to go back, to be young again. Or maybe it’s gratitude that we don’t have to.

As Mary and I talked between stops, we shared remembrances, some sweet, some bittersweet, and decided the best approach was to count the blessings rather than the sorrows. Part of that was identifying where God had interjected his influence and changed the course of events.

We talked of how he’d directed Dad’s and Mom’s lives, how he continued by guiding ours, and how he’s lovingly touching our children the same way. “And if you forget everything else,” God said, “remember that.”

“Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me.” (Isaiah 46:9) remind