Travel Time, Part I

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Although Nate always dreamed of having the freedom for extensive travel, I’ve always been happiest at home. When the two of us would go away, he couldn’t squeeze in enough sight-seeing, but walking back through our own front door was always the highlight for me.

Now, however, I have grandbabies. Although I’m getting “up there” in years and going away offers its inconveniences, spending time with these little ones has brought a new dimension to travel. Today Jack and I are on the road, headed south to meet up with two year old Skylar, one year old Micah, their parents, others of my children and all of my sister’s family. We’ve rented a couple of condos in the Florida Gulf.

My travel buddy, Jack, rides like royalty sprawled out on the back seat as we clock our 1425 miles together, visiting friends along the way. Our mostly-empty vehicle reminds me of many a crowded car trip with children jockeying for their fair share of space. Without the benefit of seat belts or car seats in the early years, personal boundaries were loosey-goosey and hard to define.

Just like every family, we always over-packed, pulling out of the driveway loaded to the ceiling. Then car-top carriers were invented, and we bought a tan plastic model from Sears that could have doubled as a giant McDonald’s burger box. It didn’t do much for the wind-flow around our station wagon but held seven full-size suitcases. Although it was a beast to load and unload, it cut down on passenger over-crowding and, by that, on parental insanity.

Driving from Chicago to Florida in March is to travel through three seasons in two days. But when northerners glimpse that first palm tree, it’s like walking out of a blizzard and into a botanical garden show. Winter ends and flip-flop season begins.

One of our many family drives to Florida was particularly memorable. We’d purchased our first mini-van and were excited to break it in together. The car-top burger-box was old and worn by this time but still worked well. As usual, it was crammed full of both soft and hard suitcases.

Half way to Florida we were gassing up and buying candy bars when I noticed a sign for a $2 sit-in-the-car wash. Since we’d started our journey on Chicago’s snowy, salty roads, the new van looked old, and none of us liked that. So as Nate walked into the gas station to pay, I said, “We’re gonna go through the car wash!”

Forgetting all about our carrier, the kids and I sat up straight while the automatic treads pulled us into the tunnel. Massive brushes and thick carpet strips quickly smothered us in bubbles.

Suddenly there was a tug on the van, followed by a mysterious racket behind us as the carrier straps snapped and the car wash brushes knocked our box off. Because of all the suds, though, we were oblivious.

At the end of the wash, our clean van sat sparkling in the sun just in time for Nate to see it as he came from the mini-mart holding a coffee in each hand. I was smiling, but he was not. “What happened to the carrier?” he said, looking at our rooftop.

[…to be continued]

“Don’t begin until you count the cost.” (Luke 14:28)

Who’s your hero?

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Although it’s St. Patrick’s Day today, I’m still thinking about Valentines Day. I’ve just thought of a great gift every husband would love: a list entitled “TEN REASONS WHY YOU’RE MY HERO.”

Since Nate is gone, it’s too late for me, but I know he would have loved receiving such a list. Many men are under-confident in their abilities as husbands, and written reassurance would probably feel good.

The list could be ten character qualities you’ve seen in him or ten experiences during which you’ve watched him perform well. Wives and husbands often share secrets no one else knows about, and a hero-list might be ten of those. Or it could simply be ten reasons why you love your man.

Once in a while I see a Facebook comment between a husband and wife that’s upbeat and complimentary. Because it gives me a little burst of joy, I imagine the recipient feels joy-times-ten. Sadly, though, it’s more common and much easier for us to take our spouses for granted and assume we’ll always have them. The fact that more marriages break apart than stay together is a testimony to the lie of that assumption.

But there are ways other than divorce that marriages can fail. Loneliness is a cancer difficult to cure. When schedules get crowded, we expect spouses to understand and sacrifice couple-time for the greater good of the whole. The needs of children, too, can override time together and squeeze the love out of a relationship.

My mom often said, “You began as a couple and will end there too, so make sure you put him first all along the way.”

This is a mouthful when it comes to everyday life, and I wish I’d done it better. Nate did well enough for both of us, which probably caused me not to be as attentive as I should have been. But I missed many a chance to enrich his life by not communicating that he had hero status to me. Three sentences he often said were, “I love you; thank you; and I’m sorry.”

In a wife’s mind, these valuable words are the glue that holds a relationship together. When a person says these things, he/she isn’t taking a partner for granted but is nourishing the relationship and moving it forward.

Marriage was God’s idea, and once we tie the knot, he’s involved. Whether we sink or swim is important to him, and he offers to help us when the relationship gets frayed at the edges. I believe he’ll also quiz us about our behavior when we eventually stand in front of him. It’ll be part of “giving an account” of how we lived.

My chance to better my marriage is over, but those who are still married can lavish happiness on their #1 earthly relationship while simultaneously gaining God’s approval. So, putting your husband on a hero-pedestal becomes win-win for both of you and makes every day Valentines Day.

“Each of us will give an account of ourselves to God. Therefore let us stop passing judgment on one another.” (Romans 14:12-13)

Cradling Grief

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Ever since Nate died in November of 2009, I’ve heard from blog readers who’ve also gone through the agony of losing their husbands. But the comments and emails haven’t been just about widowhood. I’ve heard from widowers and those who’ve experienced suffering in many categories other than through death.

In cyber-conversations people have described a variety of severe stresses that have caused depression, anguish, fear, isolation and physical decline, to name a few. The one universal is that a reason to suffer eventually comes to us all.

As my cyber-friends have shared their stories, it’s sometimes difficult to respond in helpful ways. None of us can know exactly what will reassure and soothe someone who is suffering. But I now know how it feels to be on the receiving end of sympathy from people who are trying to help.

When any of us purchase sympathy cards and think carefully about what to write inside, our intention is always to bring comfort to the recipient. None of us would want to cause a sad person to be sadder. And yet sometimes our words do that.

I remember in the days after Nate’s funeral that many cards contained wounding words: “God will bring good from this,” or “God wasn’t surprised by Nate’s cancer and is sovereign,” or “Now is the time to eat well and get plenty of rest.”

These things were all true, but none made sense at the time. Other cards said, “How about I come and visit you?” or “We should go out to eat,” or “Why don’t we plan a get-away?” Many cards included verses of Scripture.

I ignored them all.

The most meaningful words that came in the early weeks of widowhood were, “I have no words.” Her statement was proof she’d joined me in my suffering, and it was a comfort.

As time ticked by, the numbness slowly subsided, and written Scripture was what I craved. I began hoping it would be inside every card. When it was, I studied the passage carefully, sensing that God himself had chosen it just for me. Many had a powerful impact.

One lesson I’ve learned is that sympathy ought never to include a way to “fix” the problem. Grief is a process, not a puzzle to be solved or a hurdle to be jumped as quickly as possible. Although it sounds odd to say this, grief ought to be carefully cradled. A wounded heart can be broken if others move in too quickly with “you ought to…”

None of us fully understand the phenomenon of suffering, but one thing is sure.  God makes himself available to a sufferer in ways a non-sufferer doesn’t experience. He knows exactly when to be silent, when to communicate, and when to simply sit with us and record our tears.

He’s been perfect sufficiency to every stage of my suffering and will be the same to anyone who cries out to him.

”How abundant are the good things that you have stored up for… those who take refuge in you, [Lord]. In the shelter of your presence you hide them.” (Psalm 31:19-20)