Surfing the Waves

Posted on by

In our family history, last November 5 was a quiet day, the lull before the storm, so to speak. It was a day wedged between Nate’s death and his funeral, a period of calm after six weeks of running hard, being sad, worrying continually, losing sleep and getting tossed by the emotional waves of disease and death.

This web site, www.GettingThroughThis.com, has a picture of a giant, crashing wave as its banner. It depicts what surfers call a “tunnel” inside of rolling water so powerful it could easily overwhelm and destroy. There’s only one way to avoid being swamped, and that’s to progress through the tunnel, but with one critical condition: to keep moving forward.

Fifteen months ago we started this site with the hope it would encourage readers who were “going through” difficulties. No two of us are dealing with the same struggles, but all of us struggle. As I began posting blogs, I had no idea Nate’s cancer would soon be the white water pounding all around us. By the name “getting through this” I’d been thinking of universal frustrations such as trying to sell a house in an unstable market or coping with financial difficulty. My husband’s death? Unthinkable!

And yet that’s what our family has been “getting through” during this last 12 months. Although we’ve been trying to keep moving forward, once in a while we’ve been caught in a whirlpool, swirling round and round in the same sad place. Because of God’s involvement, however, our “getting through this” has gradually moved forward the way an expert surfer moves through the tunnel of a monster-size wave.

“Getting through” life’s challenges can feel much like surfing. Trying to sell a house might be like managing a gentle swell, while financial difficulties could be a rougher wave-ride. But when a family member dies, we feel threatened with an overhead crash. Nevertheless, the principle of survival remains the same: keep moving forward.

But can we do it without firm footing? The technical description of how a wave is formed hints at the answer:”Wind transfers some of its energy to the water by way of friction between the air molecules and water molecules.”

Waves gain energy from friction, and so can we. When life becomes abrasive, we know God is willing to provide adequate energy right behind it. He’s willing to blow a wind of vigor and endurance into our lives more powerful than any surfing wave, so potent that not even geyser-high troubles can engulf us.

Our family has asked God for that energy and endurance a thousand times during this last year, and God never said, “Not this time.”

Instead he’s delivered and “gotten us through” our tunnel of sorrow and change, one section at a time, always ahead of a swamping crash. He’s been the one who’s kept us from going under by reestablishing firm footing on biblical truth every time we felt our feet swept out from under us. But why not? We’re children of the God who has complete control over wind and waves… both water waves and waves of trouble.

Without him, though, we would surely have drowned.

“He calmed the storm to a whisper and stilled the waves. What a blessing was that stillness as he brought them safely into harbor!” (Psalm 107:29-30)

Carved in Stone

Posted on by

Last year at this time our thoughts were reeling as we worked through a long to-do list of planning Nate’s wake and funeral. This morning as I woke to the music of rain on my roof, I was thankful not to be planning a funeral.

In remembering that chaotic time, I recall that none of us gave a thought to a cemetery gravestone. As it turned out, the job didn’t get done for a year. Today, however, I followed the instructions given by the Rosehill representative and emailed our choices to him, surprised at how difficult that chore turned out to be.

Nelson had sketched a rough drawing of the stone we wanted, adding the capital letters of Nate’s names (and mine), along with dates. Having decided to match my father’s family headstone nearby, our choices weren’t difficult to make. But it was very hard tapping out the email. I made one mistake after another, and my fingers acted like they’d never touched a keyboard. My hands were shaking, and it was almost more than I could accomplish.

Creating a gravestone is serious business. I’m sure that’s where the expression “carved in stone” originated, a description of something that can’t be changed. And as headstones go, that’s true. Once the letters and numbers have been carved into granite, that’s it.

I checked and rechecked my short email to the cemetery, making endless corrections. Digging out the photo of Dad’s family headstone, I studied it with new eyes and unexpectedly felt a strong connection to the carved list of long-buried relatives. Except for my parents, I’d not met any of them.

Dad was only 12 when his father bought this Rosehill plot of graves  in 1911. Twenty-month old William had died of pneumonia, necessitating the purchase. Years ago Dad described that sad funeral, telling how he’d visited the cemetery a few days later, hunting in the snow for the yet-unmarked grave of his little brother. How excruciating must the pain have been for Dad’s parents as they sketched out the headstone for this child?

When the baby’s mother, my grandmother, died 14 months later at 43, Dad and his remaining family were forced back to Rosehill, suffering new sorrow as they buried another loved one. Dad’s father, suddenly a widower, must have felt unbearable pain as he requested his wife’s name be carved into their headstone.

In thinking of these relatives, I had a new reason to be thankful: Nate didn’t have to choose my headstone. Because of his incredible devotion to me, this task would have been nearly impossible for him. Widowhood isn’t easy, but Nate becoming a widower would have been much worse.

Tonight the Lord reminded me that one day this headstone business will all be over. Although I don’t understand it, Scripture says every grave will burst open and give up its dead.

And when this happens, carving names into granite will have finally come to a permanent end.

“Christians who have died will rise from their graves… We who are still alive… will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Then we will be with the Lord forever. So encourage each other with these words.” (1 Thessalonians 4:16b-18)

One Year Ago: Nate’s Exit to Heaven

Posted on by

People might judge our family to have too keen a focus on Nate’s death, but those of us left behind love to talk about him. Whether it’s the decision about his headstone, the reliving of a memory or a reason to be thankful, all of us are warmed in the process.

Today on the one year anniversary of Nate’s death, nearly 100% of the conversation has been about him, beginning with my children and then through emails, blog comments and snail mail from others. I am a fortunate woman to have so many caring friends, some I’ve known only through cyber space.

Many included comforting Scriptures in their messasges. Nearly all have said they were praying for our family, which I’m sure is the reason it’s been a day of blessing rather than an endurance contest of misery.

One thing mentioned by the kids today is their fresh focus on eternity. We all wonder what’s going on in that supernatural paradise. What is Nate doing? What is he seeing? Who is he talking to? Although we’ve known others who’ve been there for years, it wasn’t until Nate died that we began to seriously ponder the possibilities. Thinking about heaven seems to calm grief the way salve soothes a raw wound.

Hans and Katy’s friend Esther took the time to copy Psalm 121 into her email, the first one I opened this morning:

“[The Lord] who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches… will neither slumber nor sleep. He will watch over your life. The Lord will watch over your coming and going, both now and forevermore.”

These powerful words of promise were a positive way to start the morning. Part of their impact was in knowing they also applied to Nate. I believe the phrase “watching over your coming and going” includes our entering this world, and later exiting from it. God carefully watched over Nate’s life between his “coming” at conception and his “going” at death, right into eternity on November 3, 2009. As Nate arrived there, it became another “coming” monitored by the Lord. Cancer was Satan’s awful idea, but God used it as the vehicle to transport Nate into blissful eternity.

Today all of our children checked in with me. They’re a precious lot, and I don’t deserve the tender kindness they’ve shown. Although we couldn’t all be together, we were one in heart and mind, which greatly enriched this significant milestone.

As the day ended, I went back to Psalm 121, looking it up in Nate’s Bible. Although he didn’t often mark on the words of Scripture, he’d underlined the verses about the Lord watching over him and over his coming and going. Seeing his wavy pen lines on the page made me smile and experience a brief connection to my man.

I needn’t have worried about this important day. In place of tears, God gave us joy… all of us. Especially Nate.

“Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2)