Free to be Happy

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This weekend is all about red, white and blue. Mom trained us well, and we, in turn, trained our kids: dress patriotically even if it’s out of style, and yes, a Cubs shirt will do just fine. Even Jack gets into the act, exchanging his purple collar for the old red one.

Our family, like many others, loves the colorful part of the holidays: red and pink for Valentine’s Day, yellow and purple for Easter, etc. Today it’s all about stars and stripes, flags and celebratory firewoks. Never mind that Nelson nearly lost his hand when a firecracker exploded too soon years ago. We still set them off with ooooh’s and aaaah’s after our hamburgers and baked beans.

But the 4th of July isn’t just about outfits and explosives. Yesterday I listened to a radio reading of the Declaration of Independence. Most of it is a list of the offenses suffered by the colonists under the rule of a British king. But the introduction and conclusion of the document describe the freedom these people craved. After paying the price of a bloody war, they finally did win self-rule and their independence. The 13 newly formed states became the beginning of our free nation.

It’s interesting that the Declaration’s first section, The Preamble, includes what may be the most memorized sentence in our country. School kids have recited it for centuries. It’s the one that starts with, “We hold these truths to be self-evident…” God is mentioned as the Creator and humankind as “the created.”

Most interesting to me, however, is the end of this sentence that says the colonists believed all citizens had the right to pursue personal happiness. It further described what should happen to a government if that pursuit is thwarted: at a minimum, it should be altered, but if that doesn’t work, it should be abolished completely. A new government should be formed that “shall seem most likely to affect their safety… and happiness.”

Although I’ve read the Declaration before, until yesterday I hadn’t noticed the double mention of personal happiness. We’re taught in the church (and also in Scripture) that seeking one’s own happiness is not a lofty goal. We’re to “look to the interests of others ahead of our own.”

I’m extremely thankful I live in the USA and can experience the freedoms mentioned in the Declaration of Independence. One of them is that I’m free to decide whether or not to make happiness a life objective. I don’t often wrestle with this, since putting myself last on the happy-list is difficult. On rare occasions when I do it, though, the strangest thing happens. Happiness results. It’s one of life’s thought-provoking illogicalities.

Today I’ve made an effort to count my blessings, and living in a free land is high on the list. I’m thankful for those who fought for my freedom and the 234 years American citizens have enjoyed its abundance. But the best freedom of all is my option to openly follow God’s recommendations for finding happiness. And his declaration, the Bible, trumps even the very important Declaration of Independence.

“You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather serve one another in love.” (Galatians 5:13)

          

There goes Nate!

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A couple of days ago I found myself driving in Chicago, heading to an appointment. As I waited at a red light, a dark blue SUV turned right in front of me… with Nate at the wheel!

I gasped and felt my heart stop. His window was down, and I could see his face clearly. Craning my neck to stare as he drove past me and away, I could hardly yank myself back to reality.

Of course I knew it wasn’t him. Impossible! But my senses briefly told me otherwise. Lining up what couldn’t have been true with what was true was like trying to straighten a deck of cards lying askew. It took some effort and more than a few seconds. Horns began honking for me to respond to the green light, and I quickly stepped on the gas, but it would be a while before I regained my composure.

As kids we were told, “Wishing doesn’t make it so.” My constant wish that Nate was still with me must have been the reason I’d “seen” him driving by. It was just my mind playing tricks on me. There isn’t one hour of any day that I don’t think about him, and it’s not much of a leap to then “see” him.

Last week I heard something new about my husband, a mini-story one of his friends shared with me thinking it was “just a little thing.” But to me it was a bit of precious treasure, because Nate can no longer participate in making any new stories. Those of the past are all we have.

This friend had explained how a statement Nate made nearly two years ago had come back to him recently when he was trying to get through a tough experience. Despite Nate being gone and his comment being old, this friend had been given practical encouragement to persevere in his struggle. It brought pleasure to me to know Nate’s influence was still being felt, as if he really was still with us.

If Nate was alive and had listened to his friend tell the story, he might not even have remembered making the comment. And yet there was still power in it, and that’s the lesson for all of us. People are listening. People are watching. This is especially true when we aren’t aware of it. Of course not everything Nate said was quote-worthy. As for me, I don’t think anything I’ve said is quote-worthy. But we can all attempt to speak and act in ways that uplift others.

Today I’ve been thinking about having “seen” Nate in the SUV and also in his friend’s story. Both were a glimpse of him. I think I value the story far more than the “sighting”, thrilling that it was, because there’s an important distinction between the two. One view was fantasy, and the other was truth.

“Buy the truth, and sell it not; also wisdom, and instruction, and understanding.” (Proverbs 23:23)

Summer Solstice

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Back in second grade science class, we all learned about the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. As youngsters we loved studying this subject for two reasons: (1) when it occurred, we knew we’d be on summer vacation, and (2) since the sun set really late that day, we’d have more time to play outdoors.

Summer is the favorite season of many, because it brings sunshine, grilling, swimming and flip-flops. It represents lemonade on the deck, green leaves on the trees and screens on open windows. And Nate and I, born ten days apart, celebrated our birthdays together during the summer.

There is no end to the delights of this season. But something has always nagged at me. Why do the days begin to get shorter when summer has barely begun? The Summer Solstice on June 21 is that turnaround day, and it has passed. It’s as if fall peeks around summer’s corner to remind us darker days are coming.

I’m nervous about the coming fall. Along with it’s arrival will come the one year anniversary of the day we were told of Nate’s cancer, September 22. Each of the 42 days following that will be, most probably, a reliving of those painful days. I’m already planning to pull out my 2009 calendar to read what happened on each day. That exercise might seem senseless, but as we travel through that season, something inside me wants to link up with what Nate suffered.

Just last month I was finally able to stop my mind from traveling back to those excruciating days on a daily basis. Aborting that thought pattern has taken eight months, and now, as the days begin to shorten toward autumn, I’m back where I started.

Scripture makes a case for living in the present, but it also recommends looking back, with the purpose of being thankful. By suggesting we count past blessings, the Lord wants us to recognize that he cared for us in the past and will care for us in the future. Even in mentally remembering the days of Nate’s decline and demise, God’s gifts during that time stand out like the flowers in a centerpiece, prompting my gratitude.

I don’t like watching the sun set one minute earlier each evening or realizing that a month of summer has already slipped away. But once summer is over and fall arrives, once we get through those 42 days, all our “firsts” without Nate will have passed. I’m hoping that after that I’ll be able to take more deep breaths and think back without having to relive the pain. My widow warriors tell me this will be true.

Surely the Summer Solstice a year from now won’t prompt nervousness as it has this year. Instead, when the days shorten and that next fall arrives, it’ll come bringing its usual golden glow. The sting of the cancer will be gone, even in our memories. I’m looking forward to the day when I can look back and remember Nate not in terms of disease and death but as he was in the many seasons that preceeded the autumn of 2009.

”The moon marks off the seasons, and the sun knows when to go down.” (Psalm 104:19)