In a Better Place

At a memorial service I attended recently the minister assured us our deceased friend was "in a better place." However, she provided no basis for this knowledge or further explanation.

That got me thinking about my own eventual demise, subsequent funeral, and what I hope might be said. My friend Jeff Wenzel, who died of a brain tumor about 10 years ago, made a video when he was sick in preparation for the occasion. It was just like Jeff, who was extremely well-liked and social, to be the keynote speaker at his own funeral. My favorite part was when he leaned into the camera and looked down, as if he were scanning the crowd to see who all showed up.

I could make a video too, but writing something is more my style. Something like this:

Thanks for coming to my funeral today. Because you are here, I know our lives crossed in a meaningful way, or your life has crossed some of the ones closest to me and you desire to support and comfort them. Both are great reasons to be here.

I want to assure you that I am now in Heaven with Jesus, in the place He has prepared for me. I've known since I was six years old that I would be joining Him here. My parents read me Bible stories and took me to Sunday School and church, so I always knew that I needed to ask Jesus into my heart.

On a Wednesday night in April, 1975, our First Mennonite Brethren youth choir sang a song with the words, "Don't wait until you're older, but trust Him. . " I knew I would be seven in a few months, so I decided tonight was the night. When my class went upstairs, I hung back, sat on the landing and prayed. I told Jesus I was sorry for the wrong things I had done (I had stolen a curler from a playmate, and lied about it to my mother, for starters), and I asked Him to come into my life and to take me to Heaven when I died. I was glad to make this important decision

When I re-joined my class, I wondered if they would notice that I was a Christian now. I don't remember if I told my teachers, but I know my Mom and Dad were happy for me when I told them that night.

Later I learned the Romans Road, which are several key verses the Apostle Paul wrote in Romans that spell out the path I took to find salvation. Romans 3:23 says, "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." I knew I was a sinner (remember the curler incident). The bad news was I deserved death, as Romans 6:23 says, "for the wages of sin is death." However, the good news quickly follows because the verse continues:  "but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."

So I am confident that I am in Heaven now, because I believe God when he says in Romans 10:9 "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." That's what I did, and I know He keeps His promises.

He's been with me all my life, guiding me, protecting me, loving me. I have not followed Him perfectly, but He is perfect, and He is faithful to do what He says He will. And now I have begun the best part that is scary to even imagine on earth--eternal life.

You may not have had the benefit of hearing about salvation repeatedly since you were a child like I did, but the same is absolutely true for you. God doesn't want anyone to be lost, He desires that everyone would come to Him. If you haven't done that, I would love for you to do that today. I would love for my memorial service to mark the day that angels rejoice in Heaven over your salvation.

And I would love to see you again. Let's plan to meet at my place--it's got lots of rooms.

Thanksgiving for Father's Day

Yesterday while in CVS I ran in to one of our favorite customers. Actually, I was passing her at the end of a tight aisle and realized it was her as I was two feet from her. She didn't recognize me at first because I had my hair down instead of in my usual ball cap that I wear when we mow.

Anyway, after the slightly awkward meeting, I mentioned I was heading to the greeting cards to get ready for Fathers' Day. With her usual sweet smile, she said she didn't have any men in her life any more. Her father is gone and her husband died (I think it was cancer) three or four years ago (when we started mowing her lawn). She said the only man she might do anything for would be her son-in-law, and she knew her daughter and three grandchildren were planning lots of festivities.

"He doesn't need a card from me," she laughed.

"Well, I don't know, he might," I countered. And we moved on.

But that little exchanged stayed with me all the day, challenging me on two fronts:

When I am in her situation, I pray I am not bitter at the hand I have been dealt. Her husband died early--right after retiring, if not before. Yesterday, and always with us, she is pleasant and talks about him and her situation in a matter-of-fact, accepting way.

But I am not in her situation. I have a dad who in 2011 was in the hospital for three months with pancreatitis and nearly left us, but he's still here. I have a husband of 24 years who is a good father, loves to spend time with me, and even fixed my computer yesterday. I do have men in my life, and today is their day, so I will celebrate them.

So now I need to post this and go fix breakfast. Happy Father's Day!

Both Sides Now- Facing Mother's Day with a slightly empty nest

My oldest son, Caleb, is away at tech school in Biloxi, Mississippi, so this will be my first Mother's Day in 19 years without him. He's actually been gone since mid-December when he went through basic training in San Antonio.

During his eight weeks at basic, communication was limited to three phone calls--right when he got there, to let us know he'd arrived OK, week four (which happened to be his birthday. That was a little detail that God worked out as a gift for me) and week seven, so we could go over graduation plans and the details of visiting him at the air force base (AFB, the first of MANY acronyms). No texting at all. No email. No facebook messaging.

But he could write letters! And he did, nearly every week. The excitement that filled my heart each time I flipped through the mail and saw his handwriting on the white #10 envelope was palpable. Most of the time he filled both the front and back of a sheet of the the yellow steno pad that we purchased for that purpose. We went back in time to the 1980s. I made a point to write him on Sunday nights, typing my letters on the computer and printing them out because my kids complain about not being able to read my cursive.

I was so excited to see Caleb at his graduation from basic training!

Now that he's in tech school, he isn't limited on his phone, so we text occasionally about random things. Occasionally he posts pictures of his days off on facebook.

So I was thinking about what I'd really like from him for Mother's Day, and a letter topped the list. A card would be nice, too. A phone call would be good, especially if he would take off his waterproof Otterbox phone cover, which muffles the sound and makes it hard for me to hear.

A FaceTime or Skype call would be wonderful. Our family is planning to go to the zoo, which is one of his very favorite places. It would be great if we could connect there. Maybe by the baboons. Which is an inside joke, because he HATES the baboons. When he was four or five he did something to get on their bad side and they threw sand at him. OK, maybe by the river otters or the statues of the grizzlies.

At any rate, I yearn to hear from him. And then I think about when I left home.

I didn't go far. My family lived on a farm eight miles northwest of Hillsboro, and I attended Tabor College, which is in Hillsboro. My mom worked in the library at Tabor, so I could walk over and see her each morning. But I didn't. I remember one semester, I think it was my junior year, I had a free hour in my schedule on Tuesdays (or something) so I would usually drop in and chat with her a bit at the check-out desk, but that semester was the exception, not the rule.

I didn't have weekend meals, so I did go home sometimes for lunch on Sundays. For my 19th birthday, on Sept. 10 I met my parents at a reception center on campus. I think I was too busy to come home for an entire evening (plus, I didn't have a car). They gave me a denim jacket, which I liked. Mom might have brought a cake, I don't remember. I do remember thinking it was nice that they came as I walked back to see what was happening in our dorm.

I don't remember ever thinking about how my mom might have been missing her daughter. How if at all possible she wanted to bake a cake and be with the girl on her birthday that she had baked cakes for each of the 18 previous years.

That kind of insight (hindsight) takes years to acquire.

In fact, it's taken me 27.