Our elderly neighbor lady is dying.
We knew she had been having health issues, but the sudden diagnosis still shocked us. I didn't expect this level of grief when I rang her doorbell yesterday morning and asked after her when a family member answered. I was concerned that maybe she had fallen and broken a hip, or that she had a long recovery from a seasonal illness ahead of her.
I didn't expect the truth to keep me up tonight.
Yet, here I am. Composing this in my head, turning it over and over til I know I have to get it out.
I don't grieve for her. She is about to be reunited with the husband she lost over a decade ago, at the foot of the throne of God, rejoicing with the angels.
I grieve for me.
This woman, some sixty years my senior, touched my life in quiet, everyday ways.
She was the first in the neighborhood to welcome us when we moved in just two years ago. She introduced herself; I called her Mrs. D_____. She made sure I knew to call her by her Christian name. For some reason, her acceptance of me as an adult, as a peer, made me feel more like an adult than did marriage, home-ownership, or even birthing a child.
There was at least once she invited this lonely wife, new to the community, over for tea. I heard dusty life stories, saw pictures of birds she had cataloged and quilts she had made, and left feeling remembered.
She told us several times, in that sweet forgetful manner many elderly have, of her participation with the Minnesota Ornothologists. She derived so much pleasure from going on day trips to count bird species, or even just watching her backyard from the picture window in her dining room, that same window we sat by and sipped our tea.
There is a comfort knowing that the person who lives mere feet away isn't watching you, looking for fodder for gossip, or trying to fit you into their mold of expectations.
When the power was out that cold day last winter, my husband was at work, and she was home alone, we checked on each other. When my husband and I were detained at church and I was concerned about our casserole burning before we could get home, she came over and took it out of the oven for me. That winter day we were so merrily shoveling the walk and decided to do hers as well, she had such kind words of gratitude.
I remember one Sunday when we went to church in town, because obligations for that day didn't allow time for us to travel all the way to our church home. She made a point to invite us over for the lunch that is still customary in this Dutch town. We thought we had to decline since we were headed out. Now I wish we had stopped for those few minutes.
As we were waiting for Baby to arrive, I admired a lovely little baby quilt in a local shop. Its cheerful yellows and pinks made it far too feminine to risk buying when we didn't know if we were having a girl. Even after our daughter was born, I couldn't justify the purchase no matter how much I loved it: funds were too tight after our family expanded for me to buy it when we already had plenty of blankets and quilts for our little girl. It would have been too extravagant of a purchase for even me. To my shame, I never thought to ask God for it. Yet, He gave it to me, through the hands of our little neighbor lady. I will never forget the feeling I had when I saw it nestled in the bottom of the gift bag: the profound love of a God who notices. I see it now, making our fourth-generation bassinet both beautiful and cozy for our precious daughter, as a daily reminder, in a new way, that our extravagant God really does care about the little matters of our hearts, not just the large, weighty, "important" issues.
And so, as I grieve, I realize that, while there is great pain from losing a family member, there is also a closure that comes with that status, "bereaved granddaughter," for instance. There is the chance to disperse a household of worldly goods, to take home that favorite tea cup, that treasured picture, the sewing machine her hands touched so many times. I respect that close bond and want to give her family the space they need to pull together around her in these last days, hours.
I mourn from a distance, as her neighbor.
But she was my friend.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Friday, September 9, 2016
One Question
I think that humans live their lives trying to answer a question.
I do not know if we all ask the same question as everyone else. I don't know if an individual keeps the same question his whole life. I think many are unaware that they live life asking their question, yet even without their knowledge it commands their decisions, decides their habits, jades their perspective, and even manipulates their emotions.
In 2011, I participated in a Christian book study with friends. During the soul-searching it involved, I stumbled across my question. Actually, I believe God pointed it out to me.
"Am I enough?"
What a treacherous question to have, unknowingly, as a driving force!
While it percolated unidentified through my life, I unwittingly asked those around me to answer it. Was I enough of a daughter to be acknowledged by my father and approved of by my mother? Was I enough of a friend for those I loved? Was I enough of a Christian as I played piano for offertory and volunteered in the church library and participated in church programs? Was I enough of a student while I maintained a 4.0 GPA? Was I enough of a human being as I worked two jobs, kept a daily devotional/prayer time, exercised, got my black belt, played hostess, served my friend as a bridesmaid?
And the answer kept coming back: No. No. No. No.
Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. You're not enough.
Is it any wonder that seeing others get by with less angered me? Is it any surprise that every time I was snubbed or reprimanded without my achievements also being appreciated, my temper took a dive? I was asking everyone around me, "Am I enough?", yet they didn't know I was asking - I didn't even know I was asking - and they were never meant to provide my answer.
It wasn't until I asked God my question - and then listened for an answer - that I finally started to get out from under its domination.
He gave me my answer:
No, I was not enough. I was hopeless, stuck, and unimpressive.
But Jesus.
Jesus brings hope. Jesus enables change and growth. Jesus makes all things new.
Jesus is enough!
When I am in Him, that means I don't have to be enough anymore. Because He is.
What a difference it makes to finally have my question answered: No, I am not enough, but I no longer need to be. Someone else has been enough, and He is enough for me, too.
Life has a whole lot more peace when a question is answered.
Yet, here I am, five years after I got my answer, and I forget that I still ask my question.
I fight with my husband on the days it catches me unaware as I silently ask him to answer it for me.
My baby girl cries in my arms, her eyes begging me to make her tummy stop hurting, and my heart breaks with the weight of my question again.
And I realize that this is my question probably for the rest of my years, in whatever circumstance life finds me. And I thank God I know my answer.
I do not know if we all ask the same question as everyone else. I don't know if an individual keeps the same question his whole life. I think many are unaware that they live life asking their question, yet even without their knowledge it commands their decisions, decides their habits, jades their perspective, and even manipulates their emotions.
In 2011, I participated in a Christian book study with friends. During the soul-searching it involved, I stumbled across my question. Actually, I believe God pointed it out to me.
"Am I enough?"
What a treacherous question to have, unknowingly, as a driving force!
While it percolated unidentified through my life, I unwittingly asked those around me to answer it. Was I enough of a daughter to be acknowledged by my father and approved of by my mother? Was I enough of a friend for those I loved? Was I enough of a Christian as I played piano for offertory and volunteered in the church library and participated in church programs? Was I enough of a student while I maintained a 4.0 GPA? Was I enough of a human being as I worked two jobs, kept a daily devotional/prayer time, exercised, got my black belt, played hostess, served my friend as a bridesmaid?
And the answer kept coming back: No. No. No. No.
Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. You're not enough.
Is it any wonder that seeing others get by with less angered me? Is it any surprise that every time I was snubbed or reprimanded without my achievements also being appreciated, my temper took a dive? I was asking everyone around me, "Am I enough?", yet they didn't know I was asking - I didn't even know I was asking - and they were never meant to provide my answer.
It wasn't until I asked God my question - and then listened for an answer - that I finally started to get out from under its domination.
He gave me my answer:
No, I was not enough. I was hopeless, stuck, and unimpressive.
But Jesus.
Jesus brings hope. Jesus enables change and growth. Jesus makes all things new.
Jesus is enough!
When I am in Him, that means I don't have to be enough anymore. Because He is.
What a difference it makes to finally have my question answered: No, I am not enough, but I no longer need to be. Someone else has been enough, and He is enough for me, too.
Life has a whole lot more peace when a question is answered.
Yet, here I am, five years after I got my answer, and I forget that I still ask my question.
I fight with my husband on the days it catches me unaware as I silently ask him to answer it for me.
My baby girl cries in my arms, her eyes begging me to make her tummy stop hurting, and my heart breaks with the weight of my question again.
And I realize that this is my question probably for the rest of my years, in whatever circumstance life finds me. And I thank God I know my answer.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
I Must Be a Mom
Why?
Because . . .
I describe sleeping in four-hour increments as a "good night's rest."
The phrases "That was a good burp," and "You can do it! Fill that diaper!" have crossed my lips more times than I care to know.
Bodily excretions - even flying ones - no longer phase me.
I am more likely to catch vomit in my hand and then be pleased so little hit the carpet than be grossed out by it.
I lost my heart at the same time I lost my mind.
I eat like there is a deadline - because there usually is.
I am never so happy as when N finally goes to sleep . . . except when she wakes again.
My living room looks remarkably tidy when it is not clotted with waiting laundry baskets.
I am beginning to realize the virtues of a "mom hair cut."
I spend hours staring at one little face and it never gets old.
I smile when I see a crusty patch of dried drool on my chest because it marks the spot where my daughter slept.
People are extremely understanding when I arrive late or early with an explanation beginning, "The baby . . . "
I feel that knowing look come into my eyes when women start whipping out labor stories.
I speak in a high-pitched voice and refer to myself in the third person . . . a lot.
An exceptionally productive day means the dishes and laundry got done and I have a plan for supper.
I think the morning sunlight streaming through my bedroom window is put to shame by the brilliance of one little girl's smile.
Because . . .
I describe sleeping in four-hour increments as a "good night's rest."
The phrases "That was a good burp," and "You can do it! Fill that diaper!" have crossed my lips more times than I care to know.
Bodily excretions - even flying ones - no longer phase me.
I am more likely to catch vomit in my hand and then be pleased so little hit the carpet than be grossed out by it.
I lost my heart at the same time I lost my mind.
I eat like there is a deadline - because there usually is.
I am never so happy as when N finally goes to sleep . . . except when she wakes again.
My living room looks remarkably tidy when it is not clotted with waiting laundry baskets.
I am beginning to realize the virtues of a "mom hair cut."
I spend hours staring at one little face and it never gets old.
I smile when I see a crusty patch of dried drool on my chest because it marks the spot where my daughter slept.
People are extremely understanding when I arrive late or early with an explanation beginning, "The baby . . . "
I feel that knowing look come into my eyes when women start whipping out labor stories.
I speak in a high-pitched voice and refer to myself in the third person . . . a lot.
An exceptionally productive day means the dishes and laundry got done and I have a plan for supper.
I think the morning sunlight streaming through my bedroom window is put to shame by the brilliance of one little girl's smile.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Anticipation
Our due date draws near! Anticipation mounts!
I know it could be any day now, but I have just been so busy doing other things that I have been putting off some of the prep for baby. (S/he's not coming today after all!)
We have been meaning to paint and clean carpets and gather furniture for the nursery, but life has sort of gotten in the way. I mean, I know I'm about ready to pop, but we have been with family for various happy occasions, been involved with church events, been keeping up with friends . . . good things! We plan to be ready for baby, but there's surely plenty of time.
I can't see my toes anymore, but I can clean and arrange and all that right before baby arrives, right?
I know we will need diapers and wipes, onesies and blankets, a car seat and a diaper bag, but if I get too involved with all that now, I might miss time with people and chances to live life the way I want to.
After all, the baby isn't here yet! I can worry about choosing an attending physician and a hospital for the birth eventually. Why should I let a baby who isn't even here yet dictate my life choices any sooner than necessary? That will come, I know, but let's not rush into things.
We've got time!
Right?
"For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, 'There is peace and security,' then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you are not in darkness, brothers, for that day to surprise you like a thief. For you are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness. So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober."
1 Thessalonians 5:2-6 ESV
Note: The state of our preparations for baby's arrival as reported above is fictional. How foolish we would be to leave something so important until the last minute!
I know it could be any day now, but I have just been so busy doing other things that I have been putting off some of the prep for baby. (S/he's not coming today after all!)
We have been meaning to paint and clean carpets and gather furniture for the nursery, but life has sort of gotten in the way. I mean, I know I'm about ready to pop, but we have been with family for various happy occasions, been involved with church events, been keeping up with friends . . . good things! We plan to be ready for baby, but there's surely plenty of time.
I can't see my toes anymore, but I can clean and arrange and all that right before baby arrives, right?
I know we will need diapers and wipes, onesies and blankets, a car seat and a diaper bag, but if I get too involved with all that now, I might miss time with people and chances to live life the way I want to.
After all, the baby isn't here yet! I can worry about choosing an attending physician and a hospital for the birth eventually. Why should I let a baby who isn't even here yet dictate my life choices any sooner than necessary? That will come, I know, but let's not rush into things.
We've got time!
Right?
"For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, 'There is peace and security,' then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you are not in darkness, brothers, for that day to surprise you like a thief. For you are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness. So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober."
1 Thessalonians 5:2-6 ESV
Note: The state of our preparations for baby's arrival as reported above is fictional. How foolish we would be to leave something so important until the last minute!
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
36 Weeks
I decided it is time for a lighter post, and, in anticipation of hitting the eight month mark later this week, thought to go through a bunch of old wives' tales regarding the baby's gender. Time will tell which are correct!
1. Sweet vs salty cravings? Sweet = girl
2. Morning sickness? No = boy
3. Glow or no? No = girl
4. Daddy's weight? Gaining = girl
5. Moody vs mellow? Mellow = boy
6. Baby's heart rate? Above 140 = girl
7. Legs swelling? Yes = boy
8. Eat ends of bread? Yes = boy
9. Chinese calendar = girl
10. Mom's complexion? Acne = girl
11. Dreams? Both (more boy dreams earlier in the pregnancy, more girl dreams recently)
12. Clumsy vs graceful? Clumsy = boy
13. Toddlers' interest? Yes = girl
14. Preferred side to rest on? Left = boy
15. Showing hands? I showed the tops = boy
16. Crave protein? No = girl
17. Temperature of feet? Warm = girl
18. Hair on legs? Not growing quickly = girl
19. Nose appear to be growing or widening? Yes = boy
20. Headaches? No = girl
21. Picking baby names? Picking a girl's name came easier = girl
22. Carrying height? High = girl
23. Carrying in front or on sides? In front = boy
24. Shape of mom's face? Rounder = girl
25. Key test? I pick up keys by the large end = boy
26. Mayan calendar = boy
So, there you go! Out of 26 tests, 14 claim we're having a girl, 11 say it's a boy, and one is inconclusive.
Oh! And I haven't struggled with heartburn, so our baby is bald (but I could have told you that anyway . . . ).
Practically science.
1. Sweet vs salty cravings? Sweet = girl
2. Morning sickness? No = boy
3. Glow or no? No = girl
4. Daddy's weight? Gaining = girl
5. Moody vs mellow? Mellow = boy
6. Baby's heart rate? Above 140 = girl
7. Legs swelling? Yes = boy
8. Eat ends of bread? Yes = boy
9. Chinese calendar = girl
10. Mom's complexion? Acne = girl
11. Dreams? Both (more boy dreams earlier in the pregnancy, more girl dreams recently)
12. Clumsy vs graceful? Clumsy = boy
13. Toddlers' interest? Yes = girl
14. Preferred side to rest on? Left = boy
15. Showing hands? I showed the tops = boy
16. Crave protein? No = girl
17. Temperature of feet? Warm = girl
18. Hair on legs? Not growing quickly = girl
19. Nose appear to be growing or widening? Yes = boy
20. Headaches? No = girl
21. Picking baby names? Picking a girl's name came easier = girl
22. Carrying height? High = girl
23. Carrying in front or on sides? In front = boy
24. Shape of mom's face? Rounder = girl
25. Key test? I pick up keys by the large end = boy
26. Mayan calendar = boy
So, there you go! Out of 26 tests, 14 claim we're having a girl, 11 say it's a boy, and one is inconclusive.
Oh! And I haven't struggled with heartburn, so our baby is bald (but I could have told you that anyway . . . ).
Practically science.
Thursday, June 16, 2016
WARNING: Rant Ahead
I don't know what it is about the figure of a woman great with child that makes near strangers lose all sense of propriety and decorum. It is as if the token phrases, "congratulations," "when are you due?" and "do you know if you are having a boy or a girl?" are suddenly, inexplicably insufficient.
For example, the approximately nine-year-old boy who asked me if I was going to have the baby right here, right now. Forgive me, but I am not prepared to discuss childbirth - mine or any other - with a sarcastic, pre-pubescent boy.
Or the older woman who loudly exclaimed from across a populated room about my swollen ankles, declaring that there is no way I am going to make it to my due date. (Just in case the pregnant lady isn't already self-conscious about her body's unfamiliar shape, her clumsy movements, or the extra twenty pounds she's lugging around, let's make sure she knows how awful her feet look, too. I mean, really.) What should I say when someone I do not even know tells me I will be lucky to make it to within two weeks of my due date? "Um, thank you"?
Now, if you are already an acquaintance, someone who has at least chatted with me about other aspects of life at times prior to becoming aware of my pregnancy, I am fine with a few questions or tidbits of helpful advice. I love to share the latest bits of progress on the nursery, or how active Baby has been lately; and if you really care, I will tell you about my latest ache or pain.
But, if you are a middle-aged man with a beer belly and you just happen to know my first name, do not imagine that it is clever - or even appropriate - to compare my growing circumference to yours. They are not the same.
--End of rant--
For example, the approximately nine-year-old boy who asked me if I was going to have the baby right here, right now. Forgive me, but I am not prepared to discuss childbirth - mine or any other - with a sarcastic, pre-pubescent boy.
Or the older woman who loudly exclaimed from across a populated room about my swollen ankles, declaring that there is no way I am going to make it to my due date. (Just in case the pregnant lady isn't already self-conscious about her body's unfamiliar shape, her clumsy movements, or the extra twenty pounds she's lugging around, let's make sure she knows how awful her feet look, too. I mean, really.) What should I say when someone I do not even know tells me I will be lucky to make it to within two weeks of my due date? "Um, thank you"?
Now, if you are already an acquaintance, someone who has at least chatted with me about other aspects of life at times prior to becoming aware of my pregnancy, I am fine with a few questions or tidbits of helpful advice. I love to share the latest bits of progress on the nursery, or how active Baby has been lately; and if you really care, I will tell you about my latest ache or pain.
But, if you are a middle-aged man with a beer belly and you just happen to know my first name, do not imagine that it is clever - or even appropriate - to compare my growing circumference to yours. They are not the same.
--End of rant--
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
A Letter
This is an open letter to a group of my Christian brothers and sisters whom I have never met, in a place I have never been. You see, you are receiving a blessing this week that has required a sacrifice from me and my family: my sister, B, and her husband, L, as your new pastor and pastor's wife.
Please understand from the beginning that I have every reason to think well of you. L & B had only good things to say about you all after their visit to candidate with you. I have only seen warmth, kindness, and welcome from your interactions with them on Facebook and on your website. But I have learned the hard way that people we love and think we know and who, we believe, love us in return can hurt us the most profoundly. No one is beyond the benefit of an encouraging word of exhortation. And so, I desire to spur you on to love and godliness in your interactions with my sister and brother-in-law because, while God can require hard - even painful - things of us at times, failing to walk in His ways always results in pain, even for innocent parties.
For this reason, I write to you.
Please remember that my big sister is not just a pastor's wife. She is, but she is so much more than that. She is a wife, a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a friend. She is a professional, a college graduate, and an aunt to my unborn child. She is the one who plunked out duets with me on the piano, who played dolls and dress-up with me, who introduced me to my favorite brand of makeup, who inspires me to read worthwhile books. She is well-read and has extensive knowledge about a variety of topics. She has spoken to a roomful of hundreds of collegues and has traveled to divers places. She has many strengths, but she has her fears and foibles as well. She isn't perfect, and moving into a parsonage will not make her so. Please, be kind in your words to and about her. Do not be shocked when she disappoints you or lets you down in an expectation. Get to know her as a real human, not just as your pastor's wife, or you will indeed miss out.
Please remember that L is not just your pastor. He is, but he is also so much more. L has hobbies and favorite books and places. He has quirks and preferences. He is not just learning to lead a church but also a wife. He will shepherd you in the ways of the Lord, but he himself is not infallible. There will be cultural differences as well (have you ever heard of Pizza Ranch or the Minnesota goodbye?). You will call him Pastor L, but do not let that title lull you into thinking that he is a pastor first (I say this because I am guilty of the same with my pastor). No, he is L. Please do not miss the richness of what that means by allowing the stereotypes and expectations of a title to suffice for actually getting to know him as a man.
Thank you for calling B & L. Thank you for extending this opportunity to a young couple fresh from seminary. I look forward to the opportunity to visit with you in person, to meet you and to begin to love the people and place that my sister and brother-in-law have chosen to love. I had never heard about you before a few months ago, and now it is my desire to make you friends as well as spiritual family. Please, in lieu of and agreement with their biological families who are separated by so many miles, wrap your arms - physically, spiritually, in prayer and in encouragement - around these our loved ones. As you do, may their absence from us be a gift to you. May you abound more and more in the riches of God's kindness, and may He strengthen you in the knowledge of our Savior Jesus Christ.
Peace be to you.
Please understand from the beginning that I have every reason to think well of you. L & B had only good things to say about you all after their visit to candidate with you. I have only seen warmth, kindness, and welcome from your interactions with them on Facebook and on your website. But I have learned the hard way that people we love and think we know and who, we believe, love us in return can hurt us the most profoundly. No one is beyond the benefit of an encouraging word of exhortation. And so, I desire to spur you on to love and godliness in your interactions with my sister and brother-in-law because, while God can require hard - even painful - things of us at times, failing to walk in His ways always results in pain, even for innocent parties.
For this reason, I write to you.
Please remember that my big sister is not just a pastor's wife. She is, but she is so much more than that. She is a wife, a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a friend. She is a professional, a college graduate, and an aunt to my unborn child. She is the one who plunked out duets with me on the piano, who played dolls and dress-up with me, who introduced me to my favorite brand of makeup, who inspires me to read worthwhile books. She is well-read and has extensive knowledge about a variety of topics. She has spoken to a roomful of hundreds of collegues and has traveled to divers places. She has many strengths, but she has her fears and foibles as well. She isn't perfect, and moving into a parsonage will not make her so. Please, be kind in your words to and about her. Do not be shocked when she disappoints you or lets you down in an expectation. Get to know her as a real human, not just as your pastor's wife, or you will indeed miss out.
Please remember that L is not just your pastor. He is, but he is also so much more. L has hobbies and favorite books and places. He has quirks and preferences. He is not just learning to lead a church but also a wife. He will shepherd you in the ways of the Lord, but he himself is not infallible. There will be cultural differences as well (have you ever heard of Pizza Ranch or the Minnesota goodbye?). You will call him Pastor L, but do not let that title lull you into thinking that he is a pastor first (I say this because I am guilty of the same with my pastor). No, he is L. Please do not miss the richness of what that means by allowing the stereotypes and expectations of a title to suffice for actually getting to know him as a man.
Thank you for calling B & L. Thank you for extending this opportunity to a young couple fresh from seminary. I look forward to the opportunity to visit with you in person, to meet you and to begin to love the people and place that my sister and brother-in-law have chosen to love. I had never heard about you before a few months ago, and now it is my desire to make you friends as well as spiritual family. Please, in lieu of and agreement with their biological families who are separated by so many miles, wrap your arms - physically, spiritually, in prayer and in encouragement - around these our loved ones. As you do, may their absence from us be a gift to you. May you abound more and more in the riches of God's kindness, and may He strengthen you in the knowledge of our Savior Jesus Christ.
Peace be to you.
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