Father Figures

Posted on July 18, 2010 by Margaret

When the preacher told us this morning his sermon would be about fatherhood, he explained why it would be relevant to everyone. Young fathers would get a description of how to father well. Mothers would be glad to hear their husbands challenged. The rest of us were to think of our own fathers, especially if issues from difficult childhoods still tormented. The pastor hoped to help in each scenario.

My thoughts wandered to the father of my seven children, though he wasn’t on hand to hear the sermon. During Nate’s last weeks of earthly life, he often talked about his kids, proud of each one. He also had regrets over some of the fathering mistakes he’d made. Early zeal in parenting caused both of us to do and say things we wish we hadn’t.

Beneath Nate’s regrets, however, lay a foundation of undying love for his children that grew with the years. He used to puzzle over fathers who abandoned their families, unable to understand how any dad could behave that badly. He’d shake his head and say, “If a man takes part in bringing children into the world, why wouldn’t he want to stick by them?”

In his mind, children were the most precious treasure a man could have, proven by his deep satisfaction in having each of them under his roof when his health crisis escalated. For a father to walk away from them would be to experience a loss beyond description. Even when a couple of his own kids “churned the pot” pretty well during their teen years, Nate was always in their corner, and he often told them, “I love you.”

During church this morning, I also thought of my own father, a serious Swede born in 1899, who waited until age 42 to marry. He was careful, thoughtful, conservative and a Christian. As an older dad, he never rough-housed on the floor with his kids, but he did live out a faithful example of uprightness in front of us.

He was impeccably honest, so much so that he even refused to reuse a postage stamp if it came through the mail unmarked. “It did what it was paid to do. To reuse it would be to rob the post office.”

Dad was calm in a crisis, worked hard at the church, took us to Sunday school and was 100% dependable. He quietly gave time to charity, lived beneath his means and never tooted his own horn. After he died, as we read his will, we found Scriptures there to counsel us even as we mourned.

The pastor said it right this morning when he reminded us there are no perfect people and thus no perfect parents. But the two important fathers in my life were, at a bare minimum, really good ones.

“A righteous man will be remembered forever.” (Psalm 112:6b)

Shrill Screams

Posted on July 17, 2010 by Margaret

Last night at about 3:30 am, I was woken up by ear-splitting screeching coming from the woods behind our cottage. In my stupor I couldn’t decide if it was human or not, but as it continued for nearly a minute, I could tell it was an animal. I found myself thinking, “Hurry up! Finish it off!” Whatever it was, it was in agony.

Today I’ve tried not to envision what might have been going on out there in the dark. Was it an owl having dinner at the expense of a rabbit?

Before sin existed, every person and animal got along. One day that’ll be true again. In the mean time, much of what happens in our fallen world is unpleasant. Some of it is downright gruesome, like last night’s attack. God could have protected that poor animal and provided food for its foe another way, but he didn’t.

Even though humans aren’t attacked as food, we sometimes, like the animal being attacked, come to a place of shrill screaming. Our lives ebb and flow, dipping in and out of negatives and positives. Some of it has to do with the laws of nature just as the attack in the woods did: hurricane Katrina, diseases like Alzheimer’s or meningitis, the BP oil spill, the ash cloud in Ireland, drug addictions. And Nate’s cancer. The labels are different for each of us, but none of us is exempt from the events that make us want to scream.

Although we often do rail against circumstances, what’s rumbling beneath our shrieking is probably anger against God. Wise counselors say, “Go ahead and yell at him. He can take it.”

But should he have to? If we’re trying to lead godly lives, our response to the negatives ought to be, “Yes, I hate this, but because of God, I know good stuff will come from it.”

Our family has seen the truth of that repeated again and again as a result of Nate’s death from pancreatic cancer. For one thing, all of us are less likely to take the others for granted or to assume, “It’ll always be this way.” We’ve seen our father and husband get snatched from us, and we’re aware, in a poignant way, that everyone’s hold on life is fragile. Another positive is that we’re appreciating Nate in a thousand ways, thankful daily for his part in our lives in former years. As a result of living in a world that includes cancer, these two good things are now ours. And they’re only the tip of the blessings-iceberg.

None of us would appreciate happy times if there were no bad ones. So we learn to endure, experiencing agony and uttering a shrill scream now and then but bearing up under the misery because at the end of it, encouragement that can’t be gained in any other way will be waiting for us.

“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance.” (Romans 5:3)

Frightened of Eternity

Posted on July 17, 2010 by Margaret

My calendar has an orange-lettered name on today’s date: “Aunt Agnes.” Her name is in parentheses, though, indicating she’s passed away. Aunt Agnes died 30 years ago and would have been 97 today, had she lived. I decided to keep her birthday on the calendar, as a reminder of someone we all loved.

Since Aunt Agnes died, there’s been a great deal of orange ink added to my calendar, the births of many babies and the addition of many friends’ birthdays. Some squares have two or even three names written on them, and in recent years I’ve been adding orange names to the calendar on the death days of people precious to us, too. If I live to be an old lady, will there be any empty squares left?

Most of us keep track of life by our calendars, and it’s hard to imagine a future time when we’ll no longer need them. But Nate and Aunt Agnes are living in a calendar-free environment along with millions of others, and one day we’ll be there, too.

At the moment of death, times comes to a screeching halt, a truth we have trouble internalizing. None of us has ever known life outside of time. Everything we do depends on the day-night cycle of 24 hours: sleeping, eating, working and taking out the garbage.

When we no longer have access to a clock or a calendar, how will we know what to do when? And won’t we forget some very important dates?

I’ve been frightened thinking about eternity, not about the afterlife in general but about not having a way to mark time. God made all of us time-sensitive. Its possible Adam and Eve were the only two people who didn’t give time a thought, although they did experience day and night, morning and evening. Once we die, even those general guidelines will disappear.

Back in the sixties, during the Viet Nam War, POWs found ways to mark off their days in captivity, even if it was just a dot on the wall. We all want to know where we stand. Yet from ages past, Scripture has taught that we’re eternal beings, meant to live forever. In our heart-of-hearts we know that, but have we embraced it?

More often than not we ascribe calendar characteristics to heaven. We say, “Grandma has celebrated five birthdays with Jesus now,” or “Dad has enjoyed 19 Christmases in paradise.” This we understand. But from their perspective, heaven’s citizens know we’re talking nonsense.

On several occasions I’ve sat quietly and meditated on the word “eternal”, trying hard to take in its meaning and begin thinking biblically. But each time it’s been very unsettling. There’s always more… and more… and more.

One of the verses to “Amazing Grace” makes me nervous: