Hide and Seek

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Most TV game shows are a study in psychology. No doubt a group of psych majors create competitions to outfox contestants by side-stepping their probable responses. I recall one game, however, that was straight forward and simple. The host walked through the audience waving a hundred dollar bill, looking for a willing participant.

Once he chose a woman to play, he might say, “Do you have a wooden match in your purse?” (…or a picture of a baby or a deck of cards?) If she produced the item he asked for, he’d hand her the $100. Occasionally someone would empty her purse right there on camera, flinging lipstick and keys in the laps of those nearby, frantic to find the winning item.

People say a woman’s biography can be written by the contents of her purse: pictures, pills, a wallet, money, make-up, pens, a phone, a key ring, glasses, receipts, a camera, gum, candy, credit cards, a comb. Each item has been carefully selected to be in the purse, and therein lies the biography.

This morning I needed some Post-it notes and opened Nate’s dresser drawer to get them. Although I’ve given away many of his things, the three top drawers in his high boy are exactly as he left them. And just like a woman’s purse, they say a great deal about who he was.

If you’re curious, read on: a lint roller, a hunting knife (in a leather case), a knife for filleting fish (also in a case), business cards (his own and others), three shoe horns, four pairs of black shoe laces, shirt collar stays, current contact info for our children, his watch (still ticking), one of my watches (not ticking, needing repair), 3×5 and 4×6 cards (for his Sunday notes to the kids), prescription glasses and their cases, a commuter train schedule, three pocket knives (small, medium and large), a tiny eyeglass fix-it kit, a gold tie clip with NIXON on it, pens galore, pencil lead in several sizes, refills for ball points and fountain pens, and a Wordless Book Gospel bracelet with a printed explanation of each colored bead.

As I fingered the items, everything inside of me nodded in recognition of my husband. The bottom line of his biography? Nate kept no secrets.

What if I’d found a bit of pornography hidden in the back? Or maybe an envelope of secret cash? There might have been mysterious phone numbers or names or web addresses.

Instead, every item made complete sense. Although Nate couldn’t have predicted that the contents of his drawers would be listed on the World Wide Web, he had nothing to hide. The list is clean.

Sometimes we operate as if we can hide things from God. In addition to stuff in our purses and drawers, we try to conceal the contents of our minds, a ridiculous sham. God can’t be deceived, tricked or conned. He sees it all.

I’ve asked myself, “Would I be happy with the contents of my drawers being listed on the web?” And more importantly, “Am I satisfied God is observing the thoughts in my head?” He says that one day everything hidden will be spotlighted, so this surely is food for thought.

Tonight I put everything back into Nate’s drawers, glad to know he was exactly who I thought he was: a man of upright character. And this fact offers sweet widow-comfort to me.

“There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.” (Luke 12:12)

Learning the Lingo

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Before I became a widow, I heard from many friends about the nightmare of paperwork that follows a spouse’s death. Some wives have been privy to this part of the marriage all along, naturally skilled to understand it. Most, however, are like me with talents in other areas. “He always took care of that department,” they say. Sadly, that translates to hours and hours of climbing a steep learning curve once their men are gone. And that’s me.

Today I told Louisa, “I have four mountains to climb,” meaning four online, data-related jobs to accomplish in partnership with the World Wide Web. The thought paralyzes me. I’ve figured out how to post blogs, but beyond that I’m in a foreign land without an interpreter.

Back when computers were new, when Nate and I were both green at emailing, we’d practice on each other. He’d send me quick one-line messages from the office, bringing me up to date on who he’d seen or what he’d learned that I might have found interesting. I’d do the same from home.

If he got an email from one of our kids, he’d forward it to me and preface it with a line or two: “From San Diego at noon. Lars is a good boy.” The email might have been a simple thank you from an adult child to a dad. Used like this, computers became our friends.

Since Nate died, however, my computer and I have entered a love-hate relationship. I love keeping up with our former world in the Chicago area, setting up visiting dates, reading blog comments and receiving prayer requests and answers. But oh the effort to get along with institutions: insurance companies, medical offices, government agencies, universities.

Although 800-numbers are tricky to find on web pages these days, when I finally do reach a human, the song and dance is always the same: “It’s easy! Just right-click on this, left-click on that, hover-over-this-other and voila! Done!”

Maybe for you.

My computer refuses to speak my click-language.

So much of success is in learning the right lingo. That’s true in my relationship with computers and also with God. When I talk to him, am I speaking his language? If I say, I don’t need you; you’re old-fashioned; you might be wrong; I control my own destiny, nothing good will come from those words. It’s like right-clicking when it should be left.

The key to being heard by the Almighty is to use the correct language. I’m sorry; please forgive me; I love you; come into my life; I want to obey you. When we click on the right web page instructions, good things happen. When we approach the Lord in the right way, the heavens will open.

I’m still learning God’s lingo, and he remains willing to teach me. I hope with practice, I’ll improve at communicating with him. I do know I’ll never give up trying.

Something else I won’t give up on is trying to learn the language of computers. Maybe I can find a Geek Squad willing to rent my empty bedroom.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” (Psalm 19:14)

Zealously Jealous

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved babies. My dolls were as good as human to me, and by the time I was five, I asked Jesus every night to make my doll Becky a real baby. Although I checked her each morning with hope in my heart, when God didn’t come through, eventually I gave up on him.

During that time, though, he did send a living, breathing baby to our home. My parents told me he was “my” baby brother, which wasn’t quite as good as Becky coming to life but was a close second. Although I wasn’t allowed to name him (they picked Tommy; I wanted Bobby) or to bed him down next to me, they did let me hold him.

Sometimes Mom let me feed him or put on his booties, but she never let him out of her sight. It didn’t take long to figure out he wasn’t really “mine”, and gradually I got the feeling he had become more important than I was. The camera clicked only in his direction, and when company came, it was all about the new baby.

Feeling set aside, I got jealous. All the good parts of having a baby (like letting me own him) were eliminated, and the bad parts (like everyone ignoring me) were a constant. Surely God had made a misstep by sending Tommy rather than bringing Becky to life.

Jealousy is hideous. It produces intolerance, suspicion and distrust, but worst of all, it grows. As little Tommy grew, so did my jealousy. By the time he was a pre-schooler, I teased him continually, which required steady reprimanding from both parents and filled our home with friction.

But by the time I was 12 or so, my friends became more important than pestering a little brother, which then extinguished the fire of jealousy. I took an honest look at Tom and saw he actually had a few good points. By the time I went off to college, I missed him a great deal. And when he eventually approached me with questions about dating, I felt honored.

In recent years I’ve studied what God thinks of jealousy, and it’s not good. Although he has the right to be jealous over people because we all belong to him, the rest of us put ourselves on several very condemning lists when we’re jealous.

For starters, God includes jealousy with drunkenness, sexual immorality, wickedness and corruption. Later he adds idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, rage and discord as jealousy’s bedfellows. Another list cites slander, anger, quarreling and arrogance. None of that is company I want to keep.

Today Tom is absolutely dear to me, a champion brother for whom I have nothing but respect and gratitude. When I see how close I came to letting jealousy destroy this priceless relationship, I’m overwhelmed with God’s grace (and Tom’s) in letting me off the hook. And, no thanks to me, the Lord protected and preserved our sibling bond through that ugly storm.

Amazingly Tom has never retaliated for my jealous misbehavior… unless of course he’s got that scheduled for next week.

“Don’t participate in the darkness of wild parties or drunkenness, or in sexual promiscuity and immoral living, or in quarreling and… jealousy.” (Romans 13:13)