Only Human

Some people just aren’t supposed to get sick.

I’m not talking about a single mom raising three kids and working full time. Sure - the world seems to stop when she gets the flu, but that’s just a part of life in the winter. It’s going to happen.

I’m thinking now about superheroes like dads and surgeons getting the kind of sick that robs them of their superhero status and makes them simply human.

Like when your dad is diagnosed with cancer.

The man who held you as a newborn and whispered, “I’m your daddy.” Who called you his little princess and solved all your problems. Who made you cinnamon toast when you had a tummy ache and sat up in bed with you all night when you had ear infections. Who listened through every broken heart. Who was always going to be there…

It turns your world upside down when you suddenly realize that your dad is way too mortal…

Perhaps that’s what God intends through these upside-down-world moments. Perhaps He simply wants our hero worship and adoring gaze to swing in a different direction.

Yesterday I got a call from my surgeon’s secretary. I have one last surgery scheduled for the beginning of January and she was calling to reschedule it because my surgeon had ‘cardiac issues’ over the holidays. We chose to move the surgery to March, pending the results of his own procedure. He’s hoping he won’t need a surgery.

This man has held my life in his hands through five surgeries. And now he’s contemplating placing his own life in someone else’s hands. And I’m debating the wisdom of placing mine in his again. He is just a man.

Several friends have commented on the perfect timing. Cardiac issues over vacation is so much better than during a surgery… during my surgery…

And once again I remember how fragile life is, how vulnerable we really are, and how essential it is to keep our eyes on the right deity. Anything could happen today. 

So I could keep pretending. Or I could spiral into a panic. But I won’t. Instead, I’ll seek solace in my Savior.

He rules my world. He keeps the planets orbiting the sun. He directs the cancer cells and controls the surgeon’s heartbeat. And for a sometimes unfathomable reason, He loves me – He loves all of us so much more than we deserve. He will always be a Superstar. And, even when He walked this earth, He was never just a man.

But for...

“There but for the grace of God, go I.”

I’ve thought that so many times.

When I see single moms struggling to make ends meet. When I bump into bitter and angry cancer survivors fighting desperately for one more day, week, month… When I see sad and lonely people lost in crowds.

My heart breaks over the shooting in CT. That could have been my classroom. Those could have been my little ones.

But by the grace of God it wasn’t.

Here’s where I might make a few enemies – my heat breaks for the shooter.

Yes, the pain and loss of those 18 innocent little ones was a horrifying tragedy. But if those little ones are all where I think they are now, then their tragedy is over and their joy is complete.

But the shooter? Where is his soul?

And my heart weeps in fear of the answer.

Because there, but for the grace of God, go we all.

You see, I used to be bitter, angry, alone. I never picked up a gun, but I did lash out at the innocent with my tongue now and then before God’s grace got a grip on me. Who knows where I’d be now…

So why did God’s grace catch me, and not him?

Here’s my simple theory: I had a grandmother who prayed for me.

I don’t think he did.

And it breaks my heart to realize it too late to help him. But it opens my eyes a bit wider, too.

Will you open yours with me? Let’s look for someone to pray for today.

We Have Hope

Halfway through my plate of gluten free crackers and apple slices, I got the call – 2 hour delay. We have a new superintendent and the call came later than usual. I’m already up, showered, dressed – too late to go back to bed, and too slippery to head in to school just yet.

So I guess now is as good a time as any to sit down with a nub of pencil and a scrap of paper.

Yesterday was Grammy’s memorial service. And it was beautiful.

So many great stories of who she was and what she did.

So much laughter. So much Hope.

And a little bit of letting go.

Today –

Well, today’s a new start.

With a smile in my eyes, and a deep joy in my heart, I’m stepping forward…

___   ___   ___   ___

When I ripped this paper out of my notebook, I found another, folded page tucked in underneath it. It was a letter that I’d written to a friend, but apparently never sent. I thought I’d share part of it with you.

“I just wanted you to know that I prayed for you today. I sat down with Abba and told Him about your excitement for His creation, for His loved ones. And I thank Him for creating you…. And then I told Him you weren’t feeling well. Though, of course, He already knows that. He knows every detail of your life – your deepest thoughts, your strongest fears, what makes you smile, what you dream about at night.

And He loves you – so much more than your mind or heart will ever be able to understand.

Cling to that. Cling to Him. He’s the only thing that lasts. Pain will fade. Sorrow will be banished. Life will be good again. Cling to that.”

In this broken, upside-down, heart wrenching world, we do have Hope.

Cling to Him.

The New Normal

I’ve written about that a lot. 

It’s the way life begins again after all of the pieces of your broken world settle down around you and you slowly learn to navigate around the new landmarks of your life. It usually seems way too soon, but in God’s perfect timing it never really is.

I had to find a new normal when my parents felt the call to serve God as missionaries when I was 9. 

And again when I graduated high school and came back stateside for college. Oh – and the biggest adjustment – when I got my goose. I always said that I found him in a Happy Meal – but really, He was a gift from God that got me off a downward train and got me chasing Him.

Cancer diagnosis and treatment left me with a new normal – a life with a few more aches and pains and a strong awareness of just how fragile I really am, and just how strong, dependably loving, and personal God is.

And now.

I’m beginning a new normal. Life with a Grammy Up There instead of a grammy down here.

 We used to call her Close Grammy because she lived here in Massachusetts. Mom’s mom, Faraway Grammy, lived in Illinois, a two-days drive from us. We visited her on holidays, and saw her on Sundays. Then when we moved to Africa, we’d sometimes stay at her house when we came home.

After the goose was born, she really was a close Grammy, always making sure my house was clean and filling BJs shopping carts with diapers for me. We had supper at her house every Wednesday night before AWANA and sat with her at church…

Sigh. I’m going to miss her. But I’m smiling as I type this. Because I’m just making the connection. She’s beginning her new normal, too. And I can only imagine what it’s like. Tea time in the library with the King of Kings. Long walks in the garden with her mother. Maybe a dance or two with Grampa before settling into a comfy chair with a good puzzle. All in the presence of her loving Creator. LIFE will be Good!

What do you see when you think of Heaven?

Happy Thanksgiving

There's so much to be thankful for this year!

First, of course, that Grammy's been set free.

Second, that the goose has grown into such a gentleman. This morning he went over to Grammy's, packed another bag of books and brought them home. Now he's off running errands for his dad before he joins them for Thanksgiving dinner.

Third, family -- Mom and Dad are home for a time. The house is full of voices and laughter and deep theological discussions again -- so much better than the quiet droning of the tv.

We also had an unexpected invitation to dinner to replace our anticipated last minute scramble to create our own little thanksgiving feast.

Fourth, the books. Grammy loved the written word as much as I do,  and now that she doesn't need her books anymore, they're merging with my own. Two of the four walls in my library will now be lined with books...

And fifth, my friends. So many have stepped up with encouraging words, offers of help, and an edible fruit arrangement. One drove out to Wenham to bring my son home, another visited me late at night by Grammy's bedside with physical and spiritual nourishment, another sat with me at home and baked gluten-free cookies while I waited for my Mom and Dad.

Oh, Abba -- thank You for the blessings You shower down upon us daily. Keep my eyes open to see You working. Keep my heart open to let You work through me for others. Keep being You in a world that needs You so badly.

Happy Thanksgiving!

You coming?

I'm on a bench, watching the sun set and thinking about life and death.
I've been here before.
This is the bench I sat upon on my 5th celemourn of breast cancer. My thoughts and feelings were very similar then -- sadness over how much I'd lost, joy over how much I've gained. Peace at knowing that come whatever may, it is well with my soul.

My grandmother died today. And by 'died' I mean slipped into something comfortable and radiant, put on a jeweled crown, and ran into the thrown room of God, skipping like a schoolgirl and breathless in anticipation.

By now, she's got Grampa all caught up on the last ten years and had a cup of tea with her mom.
But even that joyous thought fades compared to the true Joy -- she has finally looked into the eyes of the Savior Who gave up all He had to die a sinner's death on a cross and secure her passage Home. She has heard the voice of the One she's listened to and obeyed for almost a century.
Even the excruciating pain that first brought her to the hospital is less than a fly buzzing past your ear in comparison with that.
That's the Joy.
There is no sadness whatsoever in that.

The sadness is for us still here. God left a huge hole when He took her home. That hole will slowly fill. But it will be painful for years. So I'm selfishly sad for me. And for my Dad. He got the call four days ago in a little town up north in West Africa. He and Mom drove hours on a motorcycle on a bumpy dirt road. Then a car ride, and a plane ride -- rushing halfway across the world only to find that she died two hours before they got home.
They missed saying, "See you later."
But that pain, too, will fade.
Because they will see her later.
And I will, too.
Will you?

Grammy would want me to ask. Grammy would want me to make sure you know about her loving Savior and the Hope He died to give you.
This road is bumpy -- she'd be the first to tell you that. And she'd also tell you that leaning on Jesus won't make it any less bumpy. We don't choose to follow Him because He makes life good. We follow Him because He is good.
Sometimes life is lousy.
Sometimes it hurts way too much.
But He is still good. And leaning on Him is the only way to get Home at the end of the bumpy road.

If you don't know for sure that you'll be meeting us in Heaven at the end of your journey, send me a message. I'll hook you up with a Savior.

Sobbing and Peace

Today the bubble burst. The peace disintegrated. And I cried -- harder than I ever have before.

Harder than I cried when I was hurt as a child.
Then when I left my whole world and became an MK.
Harder than I cried sitting on that suitcase on my first day at boarding school.
Harder than I cried when Grampa slipped away,
when my little one sobbed over missing his dad,
when my father was diagnosed with cancer.
Harder than I cried when I was diagnosed with cancer.
Harder than I cried on that darkest day when I woke up without breasts...

And I'm not even entirely sure what I was crying about.
Yes, I will miss Grammy. But that's such a mixed sorrow -- full of such joy for her -- that I don't think it could have produced those horrid, dry-heaving, world-broken, gut-twisting, eye throbbing, life shattered, wretched sobs.
It hurts so to see her hurting, but that's a gentler, 'tears pooling in the corners of my eyes' kind of hurt.

I think --
I think, that for a moment, I just got a tiny taste of my Abba's sorrow over what has happened to His perfect creation. And for a moment, I almost understood Why He chose to die for me, and what it cost Him to do so.

The sobs have long since stopped.
The pain and sorrow are gone.
I'm back in that precious bubble of peace, tasting of His love, resting on His promises.

Oh, how He loves us.
Oh, how He hurts when we hurt.
Oh, how He longs for us to choose Him as Grammy did.

One Last Lesson

Today I had what might be my last lesson on prayer from my grandmother.
She's the matriarch of the Nelson family. The glue that holds the four grands and six greats together. The prayer warrior who intercedes for all of her loved one's loved ones.

But she's tired.
So I told her that I would let her go. But that I would miss her prayers. And she began to teach me how to pray.

"God will give you the words," she promised. "He'll tell you who to pray for in each moment. Sometimes it's just a quick whisper. And don't be afraid to not pray for someone else - God will keep them covered. Listen. He will talk with you." Then her eyes grew grave, "Pray for the little ones. Pray that God will send His guardian angels to shelter them from the evil one."

She then told me that she didn't want to lay a prayer burden on me.
And she didn't. She just passed on a torch.
It's my turn to step up to the plate.
Or, rather, to kneel on the mat.

Love you, Grammy!

Just another day

On the way to work today I was singing along with the radio and I was caught by the lyrics:

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
It's time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes

As I drove along, I thought about that. How awesome it is to know that God is good. That no matter what happens to me throughout the day – a fight with a friend, a cancer diagnosis, a lost phone, a broken car – God is still good.

Sometimes I do forget that. Sometimes I do get so caught up in the little, silly stuff around me that I stop  singing praises to the God who placed the earth the perfect distance from the sun just so that I could survive another day, and I start complaining, whining, ranting and raving about what didn ‘t go the way I had planned for it to.

So I turned the lyrics into a prayer. Abba, please, Please, at the end of the day, let me still be singing Your praises instead of caught up in my drama.

Then the day went on.

We had a special assembly for the Veterans, rescheduled from our snow day last week. The kids were wound up and had trouble settling down. The show ran late and reading groups got off track. Suddenly it was time to head to lunch. Two of my little ones got into a fist fight at recess, and three more had an ‘issue’ in the bathroom after. Math was a fiasco dealing with all of the behavior issues, and there was a miscommunication with another teacher which used up half of our phonics block.

 I sent the little ones home and rescheduled snowed out parent-teacher conferences, wrote lesson plans, and graded papers for two hours – only to discover that five children hadn’t even turned in their math papers, and three more had turned in no-name papers. I left the rest of the grading on my desk and headed out to Walmart to take care of my grandmother’s shopping. As I walked the aisles looking for each item on her list, my toes began seriously complaining about the new high heeled boots I’d slipped on that morning, and my stomach began whimpering that it was hungry, while my tongue began working overtime as a saliva factory every time I caught a glimpse of some non-gluten free food.

I smiled and chatted with the cashier as I paid for my purchases and headed out to my recently repaired Rav 4. I dropped my shopping bags onto the seat next to the bag full of work that still needed to be finished and turned the key in the ignition. As the engine started, music from the radio filled my car

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
It's time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes

And I smiled.

And sang praises to my Abba the whole way home…