Waiting

Comfort, comfort my people,

says your God.

Isaiah 40:1

Sometimes our life circumstances leave us in a state of waiting. For me, I continue to work away at my dissertation while waiting to see how God will use this new learning. Likewise, my son and daughter continue to work while they wait to see where God will use their gifts.

Sometimes waiting comes in steps, such as with my mother-in-law, Dorris. We discovered that after 18 years of caring for her husband with Alzheimers, she was losing her own cognitive ability. We took a step when we realized she could no longer live alone: another step when we realized she needed daily care: another when we realized she needed to live a more sheltered life in memory care. We don’t know when the next step will be, but we have memories of what those steps will entail.

This past week, I experienced a different kind of waiting; the waiting of the opening of heaven’s door. Paul’s Uncle Jerry went for a walk, took a wrong step and fell, receiving a serious injury. Events at the hospital soon brought on the hospice team. Jerry was going home, to be with his Savior. Heaven was not going to wait for long.

Last Sunday I had the honor of sitting by Jerry’s side for a few hours. While I sat, I read scripture. In Isaiah God is waiting for His people to return to Him. The words provided a beautiful description of Jerry’s journey home.

Lift up your eyes and look around;

all your children gather and come to you.

Isaiah 49: 18

Jerry’s son, his grandson, his granddaughter, and his great grandson were among those who had opportunity to stand at his bedside, hold his hand, and speak with him. In church, today, our Pastor talked about how Marie and Jerry had a love for children and took many into their home. I know our two children were blessed to know Papa Jerry and Gram Marie and to be watched over by them.

He gives strength to the weary and

increases the power of the weak.

Isaiah 40: 29

Jerry struggled with pneumonia and gave great effort for every breath he took. Marie stayed by his side, night and day, Philip and Jesse spent every free moment in his hospital room. In their weakness, God gave them strength.

I am worn out calling for help;

my throat is parched.

Psalm 69:3

This verse from Psalm 69 was also a part of my reading. These words took on a new level of meaning as I watched the nurse tend to Jerry with swabs of water. His ability to eat or drink was gone and he waited, and labored patiently, as his Savior came for him. 

I said, ‘You are my servant’; I have chosen you and have not rejected you.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed,

for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41: 9b-10

Even as Jerry lay in bed, breathing, sleeping, waking, there was a restlessness about him. He spoke to Marie about things of the world, wanting to be sure that Marie was cared for. He was a servant doing the work God set before him, even as he took his final steps home.

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you,

I have summoned you by name;

you are mine. Isaiah 43: 1b

Shortly after moving to a hospice center, God called Jerry home. His family gathered around him with tears and hugs. The wait was over; Jerry, the redeemed, was summoned by name. We look forward to the day when we will be together, again. 

He tends his flock like a shepherd:

He gathers the lambs in his arms

and carries them close to his heart.

Isaiah 40:11

I'm but a stranger here

The phone rang at a familiar time of the day.

"This is Dorris.  I am at some sort of hotel, I don’t know where, and I need someone to come pick me up."

I responded in an equally familiar way:

"You are not at a hotel, you are in your room."

 

"I am?"

"Take a look around.  Do you see your things?"

"Yes, I see my couch and my clothes and my pictures, but .  .  ."

"Nothing seems familiar, does it?"

"No."

Earlier in the day my mother-in-law had suffered through a long eye doctor appointment and now that she was waking from her nap, she was lost and confused.   It is interesting to me that she easily recognizes her things, and often comments that she has her furniture at this "hotel" but, still insists that she doesn’t live there. 

 

One time she remarked that some salesman had made a mint selling black couches, because she explained, " there is a black couch, just like this one, in every hotel room I stay at."

What an unsettling way to live. Familiar objects surround her, but nothing feels familiar. Her brain no longer connects emotions to what she sees. We count on these matching emotions to make judgements about the world around us.  Even as early as a year ago Dorris was calling from her home of nearly 50 years and insisting that she was lost. 

Thankfully, she is blessed with the ability to trust those who care for her. Even though things don’t feel familiar, she is reassured that she is indeed where she belongs.

Some days I read the news and wonder why the world seems like such an unfamiliar place. Even though I sin continually, this sinful world does not feel like home. I cannot stop myself from sinning, but every fiber of my being wants to be in a sinless place. This is a desire born of faith, a desire put into my heart by the Spirit at my baptism. It is an unrelenting desire, and I cling to it.

This world that values materialism over concern for humankind, this world that tries to solve problems with violence and pride, this world that leaves its inhabitants without hope, without joy, without love. My life, my actions, my thoughts - my sins- tell me I belong here.

But, this world is not my home.

Dorris trusts me when I reassure her that she is where she belongs. I trust that my Heavenly Father knows the plans He has for me. I trust that He prepares a room for me and that one day I will be home, where I belong.

Thank you, Father, for creating this home, for giving me the desire to live there, and the trust that you will one day bring me home.

Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.   For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ.  Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things.  But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.  (Philippians 3: 17-21 ESV)

Birds of the field

Yesterday, I brought Dorris home after a long day that included two different doctor appointments in two different towns. She turned to me with a contented smile and said:

“What a delightful day we have had! What prompted this expedition?”

Trust me, Dorris, you do not want to know.

Truth be told, Dorris had an extremely challenging day. She had an early eye appointment with an Ophthalmologist receiving an injection in her eye. In addition to that treatment, she had to navigate an office system not conducive to working with the elderly.Then, because she had a stabbing pain in her back, I made an appointment with her home town doctor. Her day went something like this:

 

Standing, stabbing pain, walking, sitting, stabbing pain, waiting, pain, standing and walking, pain, waiting, answering confusing questions, waiting, eye drops, waiting, standing and walking, winding around tight corners, pain, listening to directions, waiting, pain, waiting, eye injection, walking, pain-now in both her back and her eye, long ride in car, pain, walking, pain, sitting, answering questions, pain, x-rays, understanding directions, pain, long ride in car, walking back into the building with pain.

Did I mention there was pain involved?

In addition to that, she spent the day not being able to see the trees when outside or to read her paper when inside – her two favorite things.

This is Dorris’ definition of a delightful day. She is such a good role model for me. 

 

Of course, her memory loss is helping the situation a bit. She is able to relegate the recent past to the dust bin that is stuffed full of many other memories. Her memories of the day did not dictate her feelings at that moment as she spent a few minutes outside on a beautiful sunny day. 

I could learn from that.

She has also learned to set aside current anxiety. When the doctors and nurses give her directions she looks at me and says that I will need to be her memory. Then I have to remind the nurse or doctor to write it down, because I can’t seem to get them to remember that Dorris needs memory care and these directions need to go to the good people who care for her. 

Whenever Dorris needs to be taken to another eye appointment, I get geared up and stressed; pumping adrenalin and every other stress hormone I can muster. She just willingly comes along knowing that I will take care of things. She has way too much trust in me. 

I need to pray for some of this trust and forgetfulness. If Dorris can trust me, why can’t I put trust in a God who can actually deliver? Why do I let memories of previous experiences plague me with new worries? 

 

God knows the past, present and future. I can have Dorris’ best interests at heart, but God knows AND accomplishes my best interests. And He does this every day; all the time.

When I sit in a poorly run doctor’s office and wait, I merely fume and stew; Dorris just experiences and lives. A good friend, someone who walked her mother through the journey of Alzheimer’s, recently reminded me that one of the blessings of not being able to create memories is to simply live in the moment. That is a great definition of trust.

 

 “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Matthew 6: 25-34 ESV)

Birds of the air and lilies of the field do not make memories. They live in the moment; doing the work God puts before them. 

I understand that thinking about future needs and planning are important. This is part of good stewardship. I just need to let go of the worry and anxiety parts. 

Which brings me back to God and my favorite prayer:

“I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24b ESV)

Workers in the lemon field

Some people say that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. However, the age-old adage does not tell you what to do when life squirts lemon juice in your eye.

I recently got some discouraging news; thankfully, not tragic news, but, discouraging none-the-less.  It is news that puts our family in a bit of a financial pinch and feels a bit like a slap in the face. 

I am guessing you have also received news like this in the past.  Let’s give ourselves a few minutes to enjoy a pity party.  No, those are not tears in my eye, just lemon juice.

Okay, it is time to put on our big girl panties and move on.

God will provide for my family.  And if it takes an extra semester to finish my degree, then I will work from the assumption that this is part of God’s plan.  The question for me is why does this event feel like betrayal? Why do I feel like I have been cast aside along with all of my hard work? Why do I feel that evidence of my past good work should have prevented this from happening?

Hmmm, I am thinking the odds are good that this comes down to a sinful flaw.  I am a sinner, after all.

I have been reading and thinking about the story from Matthew 20 about the workers in the field.  The owner of the field recruited workers five times over the course of the day.  Some workers labored all day in the hot sun, some worked about an hour, but they all received the same pay. Harder work, better work, longer work, or even a good report from the supervisor (or, perhaps in my case, good student evaluations); none of it made a difference. There was no reward; just pay for honest work.

I seemed to find myself caught up in the earthly idea of extrinsic motivation. If I work hard, life will give back. If I follow the rules and keep my nose to the grindstone, I will be rewarded and that will make me want to work all the harder.

Hmm, this extrinsic motivation stuff is not working for me.  Moreover, it does not leave much room for faith.

Here is another passage about laborers:

“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. (Matthew 9:37-38, ESV)

It would be a mistake to read into this verse that God needs us to do His work.  God is God; He does not need anything.  In fact, when we come in as laborers, we just muck things up.  

God does not need us; we need Him. We need to be a part of God’s family and His ministry. We need His mercy and grace.  We need forgiveness and faith.  Even if we work all day, in the hot sun, and find there is no money at the end of the pay line, we still get what we need.

“For we are God’s fellow workers.  You are God’s field, God’s building.” (I Corinthians 3:9, ESV)

This is God’s message to me, today.  I am on His staff.  He graciously gives me work to do.  He blesses that work.  He cares for me. 

No earned reward, just perfect love and loyalty. 

Thank you, God!