In Need

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Yesterday it poured rain, and as I often do during inclement weather, I “walked” Jack from the warm, dry, front seat of my car. He happily ran alongside, stopping to sniff and lift his leg here and there. Suddenly another car approached at a narrow spot on a hilly road, forcing both vehicles to jockey back and forth in an effort to pass.

Jack continued trotting ahead but doubled back when he saw I hadn’t followed. Then, just as I resumed driving, he ran between both cars, confused as to which vehicle was “his”. In my rear view mirror I saw him take off next to the other car but didn’t worry, knowing he’d eventually appear at home. Still, I decided to wait a few minutes where I was, just in case he came looking for me.

When he didn’t, I decided to make one loop around the high dune road, which had been his running direction, and if I didn’t find him, would head for the house. Driving at a crawl through sideways rain, I scanned the bushes and woods for Jack but didn’t see him. I did, however, see something interesting: Thelma.

Seven months ago my sister and I had a strange encounter with this 76 year old woman at the beach (“Giving Her All,” April 10, 2011). We’d never seen her before then but learned her name was Thelma, and apparently she earned bits of money tidying up yards and hauling away leaves in black garbage bags.

We looked for her after that day and watched all summer without success, but yesterday, when I least expected it, I found her.

At the top of a steep incline, she was trudging along dressed in a black garbage bag torn to double as a raincoat, using one corner of it as a hood. I pulled alongside her and rolled down the window. “Thelma! Want a ride?”

“Appreciate it,” she said, and without knowing who I was or even looking at me, she climbed right in. Pulling off her garbage bag, she stuffed it into a filthy grocery sack and said, “This weather’s no good for raking.”

“Where’re you headed?” I said.

“Home. I’m giving up for today.”

“Where’s home?” I said.

“Six miles. I’ll show you.”

“You mean you were going to walk 6 miles in this storm?”

“I do it all the time,” she said. “It’s good to keep moving.”

She was dressed in well-stained, insulated coveralls, a navy shirt, tan sweater and cranberry hoodie, all in  need of a wash.

“Where’re you going?” she said, looking at me for the first time.

“I’m trying to find my dog.”

“Oh, I love dogs,” she said, “and they love me.”

“Then you must be a very good person,” I said. “Dogs like good people.”

“That’s true,” she said. “I’ve had lots of dogs. What color is yours?”

“Black. We can look together.”

“We’ll find him,” she said.

(To be continued…)


“God will never forget the needy; the hope of the afflicted will never perish.” (Psalm 9:18)

Pushing Forward

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Our family has now passed the 2nd anniversary of Nate’s death. Before I left for California last week, I sent a group email to my children (7 kids, 2 in-law kids), detailing how I was feeling about the anniversary and where I was in my grieving, asking if they would please share how they were doing, too.

Reading through their responsive messages as they came to my inbox, my heart was flooded with love and hope. So, as an encouragement to all of you who wonder if your grief will ever lift, here are snippets from their heartfelt emails. (Since I’m doing this without permission, their names have been withheld.)

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  • There were so many things we loved about Papa. His dedication to us all and so many others was obvious by the way he worked so determinedly and freely gave himself to the work God entrusted to him. He cared for you, Mom, so well, and all of us were unconditionally blessed to have had such a great father.
  • I’ve been good at moving forward as a person, but some days it just doesn’t feel right to move forward without Papa. It’s a strange feeling that’s difficult to put into words. I guess I feel like the more time goes by, the more I lose him for good.
  • Things come out as time goes on. I feel sad and miss him most when I’m far away. Nonetheless, I’m happy for all the time we had together.
  • He has “missed” 2 years of our family, growing, changing, and experiencing life. I have to choose not to dwell on that or it overwhelms me with sadness.
  • I’m very thankful we were all together when Papa was sick and when he died.
  • This second year I’ve been remembering more of the good things about that time. All the family dinners by the fire, the food people made for us, the way the Petersons were right there with us (esp. Bervin and Mary), and the last conversations we had with Papa.
  • He was a gracious person to me, and that was God’s character shining through.
  • Papa was an original.
  • I feel thankful for the years I had with Papa and all he did to make my life happy and full of blessing. I’m thankful for all he did to make my life that way even now, after he’s been gone. I’m also thankful to be able to fall back on the thought of seeing him again someday.
  • I miss Papa a lot, and sometimes it feels really unfair that he’s gone. We can’t call him or ask for advice or hear his laugh. But as he would say, “That’s life, kid,” and he’d push forward.  So that’s what we have to do. Push forward.
  • Papa showed us there was humor to be found even in the seriousness of life, and he laughed at strange things, but mostly he laughed at himself.
  • It’s hard to surpass Papa’s generosity. 
  • I love remembering how warm and sunny it was the day of the funeral and how so many people who loved Papa came to pay their respects. I also remember how your stocking, Mom, was sliding down at the graveside, and you didn’t want to stand up to throw the rose because of it. Even during one of the saddest moments, God gave us something to laugh about.
  • Papa was a scholar, a hard worker, selfless, had limitless generosity, a godly man, a loving man, and he is being rewarded now for all these things.
  • I still miss him and think of him every day.
  • I wish we weren’t spread out across the globe. It seems like we should all be in the house together on Thursday night, sitting in a circle by the fire, eating Chinese and talking about Papa.
  • In Philippians, Paul is at the end of his life and seems to know it. To be at the end and talk about rejoicing and how his life was “poured out like a drink offering” for the faith of others, made me think of Papa.
  • I am who I am partly because of the father I had.
  • My overall feeling today is gratitude and respect for Papa.
  • Today I feel sad but very loved.
  • Papa will always be missed while we are still at home in the body. It’s difficult now to go on without him, but it’s such a joy and comfort to know that a day will come when we will be reunited in the presence of Jesus.

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“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)

 

Superstars

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Our society is fixated on celebrity and the aura surrounding it, believing everyone who’s rich and famous must be happy.

My sister, brother and I flew from Chicago to Los Angeles last week with the goal of spending 5 vacation days with 4 well-loved cousins. On previous visits, we three Midwesterners always pushed for a day’s adventure in Tinsel Town, whether a tour of movie star homes, a visit to the cemeteries where they’re buried, or tickets to the taping of a TV show.

In the 1950’s, we’d seen the making of an “I love Lucy” episode in a cavernous warehouse, sitting with 50 spectators on crude wooden bleachers much like those at a Little League game. Lucy came out in a glittering ball gown and talked with us before her show, and everything was low key.

Last week’s trip to Hollywood (actually Burbank) gave us a modern day perspective on celebrity. Several of us got to attend a taping of “The Tonight Show” hosted by Jay Leno from NBC’s Studio 11. Although tickets are still free, securing them is competitive.

We arrived at 1:00 pm and were lined up with 100 others in a “holding pen” in the studio parking lot. A page showed us how to stand single file on the asphalt, then pointed to the gated lot beyond. “One of those cars is Jay’s,” she said. “He drives a different one every day, choosing from the 250 he owns.” A hushed “ooo” rippled through the line.

An hour later we were briefed: cell phones off; pocket knives and other dangerous items taken back to our cars, along with cameras; food and drink eliminated. We were counted 3 times, then shuttled from the first fenced area to the second. Once again we were lined up, given a numbered badge and recounted multiple times.

In this second waiting area we were put through a metal detector and then cautioned: no one was to change seats with anyone else; if a cell phone was seen, it would be taken; no inappropriate yelling or whistling would be tolerated.

Groups of 50 were led in and given specific instructions on where to sit, 300 people in all. Once seated, we noticed guards posted every few yards and not just run-of-the-mill security guards, but genuine Burbank policemen packing side arms. Times have changed.

Today’s rich and famous have to fence themselves in from the public that’s in awe of them. Celebrity watchers can over-love, much like a toddler over-loves a new baby. People like Britney Spears or Johnny Depp would be literally torn apart if it weren’t for muscle-bound guards keeping the adoring public at bay.

I can’t help but compare this misplaced celebrity worship to our thoughts about a worship-worthy God. Do we get this excited about him? Would there ever be a need for armed guards to keep us from over-loving him? Even when he calls to us, often we don’t respond, the opposite of the response a celebrity receives. Does this grieve him? Scripture says it does.

Should it grieve us?

Yes, since God is the only Person meriting hero worship. Although a celebrity may be on the top of the popularity heap for a time, most fall eventually as another takes their place. A “will be” can quickly become a “has been.”

God is the only one on top of the whole heap without a single competitor. And interestingly, every Hollywood celebrity will one day submit to him, agreeing that he is greater than they could ever be. He is and always will be #1, and when we’re tempted to go gaga over a movie star, we ought to remember the Star who put the real stars into space, just one of his many talents.

“I, Jesus, am… the bright Morning Star.” (Revelation 22:16)