How Superwoman Flies

As a kid I really liked hearing, “it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Superman!” And everyone would be pointing upward to see him fly over. Just the other day, I wrote to a friend, “I've always known that I'm not a superwoman, but there's something in me that makes me keep trying to act like one. I can’t fly without assistance.”

I think I have discovered how superwoman flies. We look up as she flies overhead seemingly without effort, but what we don’t see are all the hands that are raised up helping to hold her up—you know, like in those trust exercises, being passed along overhead on the upraised hands of the group.

Finally last week, two friends in particular with their questions helped me come face to face with this truth—I cannot fly alone. And thus with trepidation I have opened the way to see all those hands that have been there all along.

Forgive me if I’ve been slow. And know that I am so grateful, more than I can ever really express.

I wrote these words last week before Jeff entered the Halquist Center. Ever since then, as Jeff grew steadily weaker and now that he has died, I am learning ever more deeply their truth. I have been overwhelmed with how many there are whose hands are holding me up—some from places and people I knew would be there, but some from entirely unexpected sources.

If ever you see me acting as if I can fly alone, remind me (gently) of the hands that hold me, acting as God’s own hands.

Galatians 6:2-3

Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. For if those who are nothing think they are something, they deceive themselves.

Too Blunt Perhaps

I am coming to realize that I am a bit too blunt right now. You see, I deal day in and day out, every hour of every day, with a certain reality. I am up close and personal in living with someone going through his last days on earth.

As a pastor for over 30 years, I have walked this path with many others, but now it is a different journey. Perhaps my familiarity with the journey as a pastor has made a difference as to how I walk it in my own life, but it is not the same.

Part of the bluntness comes perhaps from ever-present awareness. There’s a sense that since it’s the number one thing on my mind, “isn’t it number one on yours as well”? or, “how can you NOT be aware of it?” And thus, I say it without using any sugar-coating or euphemisms: my husband is going to die. That is the blunt truth. In reality, it is the truth of all our lives, for not one of us is immortal. We WILL have “an illness unto death,” whether that be a momentary illness caused by an accident or one that lasts for years. It’s just that now we cannot avoid the knowledge. It stares at us; it stares at me all the time. It dares me to avoid it. It creeps around corners to surprise me just when I take a moment to dream of something else. It wags its finger in front of my eyes, just to say “here I am, this truth you cannot ignore.”

And so, I tend to be too blunt. If I have made you uncomfortable, I apologize. I inadvertently brought tears to a dear friend on Sunday forgetting that she is not living with the reality every day.

Even in my bluntness, there is one thing I would like to convey: there is hope, not despair. There is sadness and grief, but not despair, for I am not alone. I walk through a shadowed valley, but not alone for my God is with me.

Psalm 23:4

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me.

What Shapes My Life

Years ago when I was in college, I heard someone giving a talk on relationships say something like, “If you feel you cannot live without this person, then that is not a healthy relationship.” I have discovered over the years, that this is really true.

This was brought to mind this morning as I went to get my second cuppa at a little past 6. Jeff is not yet awake. He has always been an early riser. And as happens so often these days, I wonder briefly about the changes happening now, and what will happen; about how much of my life—our lives—have been shaped by Jeff’s patterns. For better or worse, our lives are changing; the patterns are constantly shifting these days. Jeff, over the years, as a judging type on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator with a great need for routine, has given the rest of us a gift. The other three of us have a greater tendency towards spontaneity, which can often mean that structure is lacking. He has helped insure that we go to bed early enough in order to meet the day well rested and prepared.

As my mind flits briefly to that place in the future, I feel grief and a bit of fear of what will be, and what will not be. For nearly 33 years, my life has been shaped by this man, as his has been shaped by me. What will the shape of my life be like in the days, years to come?

What about another shaping influence in my life—an even more important one? Have I allowed the Triune God to shape my life as much?  When this earthly partner’s shape is no longer at my side, will I find that I am still shaped by this much more lasting companion or have I allowed the other to hold greater sway in my life?

And so my mind goes to the truth of that talk so long ago. I know that while I will deeply miss my partner in life, I have another that will comfort me, counsel me, guide me and shape me.

Romans 12:2

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Words and Images Fall Short

I have started reading two books, about different topics, but they raise a similar refrain as they begin. The first is Entertaining the Triune Mystery: God, Science, and the Space Between by Jeffrey C Pugh. The second is Why? By Adam Hamilton. The first is obviously going to be an exploration of science and faith. The second looks at those age-old questions about God and suffering, pain and evil.

The refrain that I “hear” in these books is that too often we fall into the trap of trying to limit God to the words and images that we use to describe God. Pugh says that “the images of God we have been struggling with for millennia can be images that can never capture the totality of the One who stands at the boundaries of thought (p. 6).” Hamilton says, “Our disappointment with God in the face of suffering or tragedy or injustice typically stems from our assumptions about how God is supposed to work in our world. When God does not meet our expectations, we are disappointed, disillusioned, and confused (location 75 on Kindle version).”

The sense that I got from both is how God is immensely beyond my scope of understanding. All I can grasp is a mere drop in the bucket, and what I can describe is even less than that drop. In this I can best sing with the writer of Psalm 8: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” The vastness of all creation that began everywhere at once (as I learned from astronomer Jennifer Wiseman) dwarfs not just me, but all humanity. And yet…and yet…as vastly beyond creation as God is, one drop I have grasped is that God is not only aware of me, but also cares deeply about me.

In this time of journeying with Jeff through the end of life, I am grateful for this drop of knowledge. I am even more grateful that God is far beyond all I can possibly imagine or dream, let alone describe. And thus I stand in awe.

Pity Party

I was feeling a tad sorry for myself this evening. Jeff needed some inpatient pain therapy so I took him over around 2:30 p.m. and in the process forgot an appointment that I had with my coach. The repairman for the gas dryer was supposed to come between 1 & 5, so Becky came to work on her computer at our house to let him in. I noticed that the AC wasn’t cooling well. The air handler was blowing but the condenser fan wasn’t working so I put in a call for a repairman. I got home from taking Jeff around 4:30. The dryer repairman still hadn’t come, nor had the HVAC people. I was hot, tired and feeling cranky.

Shortly after 5, the dryer guy called to find our address. The scheduler had entered our address wrong and his GPS had him in Alexandria off of Seminary Road. Then he had to negotiate traffic heading west. Charles normally gets off at 3:30, but continued working until after 6 to take care of the customers, including me.

At 8:16 the HVAC guy called and said he was on his way. He arrived at 8:30, finishing up a little after 9. Two hours earlier his dad called to say he was taking him mom to the hospital, but he didn’t know why. Cole continued with what he needed to do which meant being at my house instead of the hospital with his mom.

Sometimes, often-times, when I have a pity party, I forget about what others are going through. Tonight, thank you God, that some reminders were afforded me with the awareness that I am not the only one facing difficulties. In my rush to say “Woe is me!” may I not forget that someone else needs a hand at least as much as I do.

Romans 12:15

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.