Wait for the Lord

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
Lamentations 3:25-26

Cereal Shortage

Inflation has caused prices of all kinds of goods to skyrocket in the past year. (Stick with me. I promise this isn’t a political commentary!) I’ve been particularly appalled as I’ve watched the price of my favorite cereal creep toward, then gallop past, the $6 mark. Years ago, when the price hovered around $4 per box, I began waiting for BOGO (buy-one-get-one-free) sales and then stocking up in hopes of having enough to last until the next one.

Such was my plan earlier this summer when Publix featured my cereal in their sale circular. Although I had several boxes in my pantry, I decided to add a few more to cushion my reserves. I expectantly approached the shelf where the cereal usually resides, only to find it empty with an “Our Apologies” note posted on the edge. I made a couple more stops when I passed the store during the sale, but the shelf was empty each time. As the sale drew to a close, I requested a rain check, explaining that I’d stopped multiple times only to find the bare shelf and note of apology.

Armed with my rain check, I stopped by repeatedly over the next few weeks, hoping to find the cereal. A month passed and my rain check expired – still no sign of the cereal. I decided to check Amazon. I located my cereal. Hooray! But wait! $42 for two boxes?? Was I reading it wrong? Were these extra-large boxes? A whole case? I reread the description. Nope! Some enterprising person was trying to sell two boxes of cereal for  $42!

That’s when it finally occurred to me – there must be a shortage. A quick google confirmed my suspicion. Something had disrupted the production, but a note from the manufacturer promised distribution would return to normal by October.

I checked my inventory, did a quick calculation, and smiled. If the manufacturer stuck to their schedule, my cereal would be available before my stockpile ran out.

Watching and Wavering

Week after week passed. I kept checking for the cereal. Each time, the bare shelf and “Sorry” note greeted me. Meanwhile, my supply was dwindling, but I remained confident, remembering that God cares about the details of our lives, knew exactly when my stash would run out, and was fully capable of providing the cereal “just in time.”

And then, the day arrived when I opened the last box from my pantry. I stopped by the store and checked the shelf – empty. Even though I remained confident God would come through, I purchased another brand of cereal so I would have something to eat for breakfast in case He didn’t.

A few days later, I went back to the store. As I approached the shelf, I could see the persistent gap, but the “Our Apologies” sign was gone, and there, at the back of the shelf, were several boxes of my favorite cereal. The corners of my mouth lifted in a grin of validation. See! I knew I wouldn’t run out!

So why didn’t I remain firm and act on that belief? Good question. I suppose I wanted to “be sure,” as if God’s steadfast love and provision aren’t among the most certain things in my life!

Helping God

I have so many examples, big and small, of God’s faithfulness to look back on, including little touches like this that remind me He cares about the things we care about. He’s a good Father who delights in giving His children good gifts (Matthew 7:11; James 1:7), yet sometimes I get impatient and decide to “help.”

I only have to look at the Bible to realize I’m not alone. Remember how Sarah took things into her own hands to ensure Abraham would have an heir? Instead of waiting on God to fulfill His promise and never imagining she might be the one to bear her husband a son given her advanced age, she offered her maidservant, Hagar, to Abraham. That liaison resulted in the birth of a son, but not the one God had promised, and much hostility and heartache resulted from Sarah’s actions (See Genesis 15-17, 21:1-21).

And how about Rebekah? When she became pregnant with twin sons, God told her the older would serve the younger. Esau, born seconds before his brother, was their father Isaac’s favorite, while Rebekah preferred Jacob. She, too, decided to help God and concocted an elaborate ruse to secure Isaac’s blessing for Jacob. Though her favorite obtained the coveted blessing, the process led to much animosity, just like Sarah’s had a generation before (See Genesis 25:19-34; Genesis 27).

Perfect Plans

We can count on God’s promises. We can trust that His plan is good and perfect, as is His timing (Isaiah 55:8-9). He doesn’t need us to implement our own solutions, no matter how well-intentioned. He wants us to trust, obey, and wait.

There have been times when I’ve been forced to wait, times when my manipulation of circumstances didn’t yield the hoped-for results, or sometimes, no result at all except for frustration on my part. Yet, because God didn’t bless my maneuverings, I have examples of the superiority of His plans and purposes that assure me I can trust Him for something better.

I don’t know what you might be waiting for, dear reader, but I invite you to join me in quiet anticipation of God delivering on all His promises, knowing He is sovereign over every detail of our lives.

As for the substitute cereal I bought? For now, it can stay in my pantry, a simple reminder of a profound truth.

Precious Moments

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Teach us to number our days and recognize how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.
Psalm 90:12 TLB

I was ambushed in a parking lot recently. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a carjacking! My granddaughters and I had almost reached our destination, the dance studio where they take classes each week. As I rounded the last corner, I saw three men gathered around an eye-popping teal-blue Maserati. I had no chance of fending off the tear-producing reaction that overtook me. I recognized a scene Dad had experienced countless times as admiring people approached him requesting an up-close look at his GT-R. The connection wasn’t the problem. The fact I couldn’t tell him about it was.

One of my friends has described me as a grief veteran. Having been widowed since age 38, I know you never stop missing departed loved ones. I also know it’s the little things that can sneak up on you. Birthdays, anniversaries, and the like – you know they’re coming and can prepare for the attendant feelings. My husband Ray managed the indoor gardening department at a local Home Depot. There are still times, over 26 years since his passing, that a wave of emotions will sweep over me when I’m strolling the aisles and see all the associates in their orange aprons.

Having grown accustomed to such occurrences,  I acknowledged in Mom’s eulogy two years ago that my unique connections with her would most likely get to me. Haircut days are the hardest. I always scheduled our appointments back-to-back, and then we’d go to Starbucks to chat while we enjoyed our favorite beverages. Now, when I drive to the salon, the empty passenger seat mocks me. I went to Starbucks after my first appointment without Mom, but I haven’t since – no need to have another vacant seat glaring at me.

I knew it would be the same when Dad passed. We always talked about sports, mostly golf and college football, with a bit of baseball thrown in. Sunday afternoons would find me pulling up the leaderboard for the week’s golf tournament and, during the season, the latest football rankings. I still check the rankings, but oh, how I miss having Dad to mull them over with.

And then there are the stealth attacks, like seeing the guys talking to the owner of the Maserati. I’ll be going along fine when Bam! The enormity of the loss hits all over again, fueled by the knowledge that I can no longer share the experience with Dad. A similar situation arose last week when I finished reading a novel by John Grisham, one of Dad’s favorite authors. I’d barely closed the book when tears started to flow. I’ll admit the satisfying ending would have provoked tears in all-occasion crier me, but others streamed down my cheeks because I wanted to discuss the details with Dad, confident he would have remembered the storyline even though he read the book several years ago.

But there would be no such discussion.

I suppose we could look at these emotional ambushes in a negative light, but I’ve come to appreciate them as enduring ties to my loved ones, each a distinct link in a tender fetter that binds us together. Sure, our lives occasionally contain highly anticipated events, dream vacations, and the like, but the little moments, woven together over time, make up the essence of our lives. Remembering that encourages and comforts me since simple moments are more attainable than expensive events, at least for most of us.

The moments – and memories – become priceless when we share them with those we love.

One recent afternoon, grandson Joshua and I worked together to divide and repot some of Mom’s aloe vera plants. Seeing we had two dozen baby plants, I commented, “If these little guys make it, we’ll have plenty to share!”

Joshua added, “We can give them to people who loved Mama and love succulents.” Then, after the briefest of pauses, he exclaimed, “Wait! Everyone loved Mama, so we’ll just figure out who loves succulents.”

His statement began a pleasant reminiscence between us as we talked about Mom’s beautiful spirit and her kindness and love toward everyone she knew. What a blessing that Joshua got to experience her love. Our conversation reminded me of my tender feelings toward my dear PaPa, my maternal grandfather, whose love I still feel even though he’s been gone nearly 60 years. [1]

I pray I’m forging similar links with my grandchildren – playing in the dirt (i.e., gardening), drinking tea, taking leisurely strolls through their neighborhood – and making sure they know how much God and I love them!

Dear reader, I don’t know who you may be missing today, but I pray you’ll find comfort in remembering sweet connections that bind you and your loved ones together while we await a joyful reunion when Jesus calls us Home (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18).

In closing, I offer one of my favorite Dietrich Bonhoeffer quotes concerning grief:

There is nothing that can replace the absence of someone dear to us, and one should not even attempt to do so. One must simply hold out and endure it. At first that sounds very hard, but at the same time it is also a great comfort. For to the extent the emptiness truly remains unfilled one remains connected to the other person through it. It is wrong to say that God fills the emptiness. God in no way fills it but much more leaves it precisely unfilled and thus helps us preserve—even in pain—the authentic relationship. Furthermore, the more beautiful and full the remembrances, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude transforms the torment of memory into silent joy. One bears what was lovely in the past not as a thorn but as a precious gift deep within, a hidden treasure of which one can always be certain. (Emphasis added.)[2]

[1] You may enjoy reading about PaPa in “Eating Apples – encore,” Archives, July 2022.

[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol. 8, Letters and Papers from Prison (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), letter no. 89, page 238.

Running on Empty

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
1 Peter 5:8

Distracted

We had barely settled into our rental house for a week on beautiful Hilton Head Island last September when we started to wonder if Hurricane Ian would cause us to cut our much-needed vacation short. I’d checked the weather forecast before I left home but didn’t connect the predicted rainfall at the end of the week to the storm churning in the Gulf of Mexico.

Although Ian’s track continued to evolve, the possible scenarios included another landfall along the South Carolina coast, still packing hurricane-force winds and copious rainfall, after it moved across Florida. We agreed the risk wasn’t worth staying and decided to return home on Thursday, two days early.

I felt we’d made the right decision, but once we did, I became restless and unsettled, unable to concentrate on any one thing for long and disappointed that our family time would end so soon. About mid-day on Wednesday, I checked the gas in my car and was relieved to see I had enough to drive at least two hundred miles before refueling.

Any relief I felt was eclipsed a few hours later when I decided to get a head start on packing the car. The back hatch wouldn’t open. When the key fob didn’t work, I tried the release on the dash – nothing, not even a beep. Then, with a sinking feeling, I realized I’d left the accessories on when I checked the gas.

The battery was dead.

A Call for Help

My AAA membership has come in handy over the years – flat tires, keys locked in the car, dead batteries. I submitted a service request and waited, then waited some more. It was night, the storm was approaching, and we were staying in a gated community at the southern tip of the island. No one was responding to my SOS.

As the minutes and then hours ticked by, I berated myself for being so incompetent. The demeaning accusations picked up steam. “You’re old and stupid! You can’t even hold two thoughts together. You could barely keep up on the bike ride. No one wants to be around you. It’s only going to get worse!” And for good measure, “You know that book you’re trying to write? You’re not going to finish it. No one wants to read it anyway!”[1]

On and on, the taunting thoughts continued. I was powerless against the pummeling.

A New Day

Midnight approached. I canceled the service request and crawled into bed, where I tossed and turned, wondering if I’d get off the island the next day.

I rose early, weary and worried, but someone responded within minutes when I placed the service request again. A cheerful AAA rep showed up about an hour later. When I told him I keep my AAA membership to protect myself from my absent-mindedness, he replied that he sometimes locks his keys in the car. His reassurances continued, “Enough people do things like that, leaving their lights on and running out of gas, that I can make a living helping them, so don’t feel bad!” His kind assurances put a bandaid on my wounded soul.

He tested the battery and found it registered a pitiful 5% power, enough to jump, but he advised me to run the car for at least half an hour before turning it off. I let Bonnie[2] run for an hour for good measure, even though it meant using up half of the gas I’d been so excited about the day before.

Bonnie started right up when we were ready to leave later that morning, but none of her accessories worked. Her heart was pumping, but her brain had shut down. It took almost 75 miles for the audio and navigation systems to recover, but one by one, the components returned.

A Red Flag

The depth of my despair at my humanity was a huge warning sign. I used to lock my keys in my old CR-V once or twice a year, yet I’d laugh off my inattentiveness when I called AAA to report my latest foible, “Yep, it’s me again. Same address as before, too!”[3]  

My inability to combat what I refer to as “old stuff” flashed a warning. Not only did I not have the strength to fight the lies with truth, but I also started to withdraw from my bewildered family – old stuff plus an old defense mechanism. 

Thankfully, I didn’t withdraw from God. As I cried out to Him, I acknowledged the tough losses and monumental changes of the past two years had depleted me. I didn’t want to add to others’ burdens by complaining or asking for help. Through it all, I kept going, determined to be strong for everyone who was depending on me.

I realized the thing that finally pushed me over the edge was going through Mom and Dad’s things and selling their house. I hadn’t experienced recurring, guilt-infused dreams like those I had years ago when I gave away my late husband’s clothes and apologized profusely to him when he reappeared in my sleep. Even so, there are times I’ll think about a specific item or envision everything set up for the estate sale, and I feel sad, guilty, and conflicted. Did I do the right thing and make the right decisions? Should I have kept XYZ instead of giving it away?

Weak and Vulnerable

In my early 30s, I began counseling to work on deep-seated misbeliefs I held regarding myself. It was hard, often painful work, but I persevered. My counselor lauded my efforts and progress, yet she cautioned me to remain vigilant lest I slip back into old thinking when I’m tired or stressed.

Lions are patient and skilled hunters, habitually pursuing weak or solitary prey. It’s fitting that Satan, the enemy of our souls, is portrayed as a roaring lion prowling about, seeking someone to devour. He’s also the father of lies, constantly twisting the truth to ensnare and debilitate us (John 8:44).

Some of you may think my description of the self-talk I subjected myself to is hyperbole, “Surely you didn’t believe those things, did you?” Others will know precisely what I mean, having experienced similar battles in trying to overcome lies embodied in messages planted in your soul long ago.

Take heart! We don’t fight alone.

Refilling the Bucket

Despite the pain and discomfort of those few days, I’m thankful the Lord used something as mundane as a dead battery to show me how drained and depleted I’d become. Like Bonnie, my heart was pumping, but I didn’t have enough energy to do much more than trudge through each day.

Fortunately, I didn’t stay muddled in despair for long. I reached out to my longtime counselor and scheduled an appointment. Likewise, I told several trusted friends how I felt and asked them to pray for me. Unlike the initial call to AAA, the responses were immediate and affirming.

The Spirit within us reminds us that we’re beloved children, members of God’s family (Romans 8:16). What a blessing that we can turn to our brothers and sisters for help, to walk alongside us, and speak truth to us until we’re strong enough to tell ourselves again, to hear and believe the testimony of the indwelling Spirit.

Epilog

I drafted this shortly after the events occurred last year but felt too vulnerable to publish it. When I reread it after returning from this year’s beach vacation, I knew I needed to polish and post it in case it might resonate with one of you. If you find yourself weak and weary like I was, dear reader, don’t fear asking for help. Jesus came that we might have abundant life and the Truth will set us free. I pray you will find rest and restoration in Him.

[1] I dedicated a couple of hours each day we were away to working on the manuscript, but made negligible progress.

[2] We’re among those who name vehicles since we tend to keep them a long time and they become part of many family commutes and adventures.

[3] I usually locked the keys in my car at my daughter Mary’s house, leaving them on the seat as I juggled my lunch and supplies on days I stayed with my grandchildren.

Scuppy the Fern

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.
James 1:17

The summer heat and humidity are finally beginning to loosen their grip on our little corner of the world. My grandchildren and I took advantage of the lovely weather a few days ago and went for a walk, our first one in recent memory.

I’m not sure if Joshua or I spotted it first, but there, in an overgrown patch next to the big sidewalk, as we’ve come to refer to the half-mile of concrete that stretches from their property to Main Street, was a unique fern.

As soon as I saw it, I wanted it. It was delicate and petite, unlike most of the exuberant ferns already sprawling in my woods. Lyla and Emma, ahead of us on their scooters, circled back to see what had caught our attention.

All of us agreed it was quite lovely yet apparently unnoticed or cared for by anyone else, given the state of its surroundings. A discussion ensued regarding whether or not it would be acceptable to rescue it. I initially said, “No, we don’t know who owns the property, but we do know it’s not ours.”

As we continued our walk, the rationalizations began, with each of us contributing to the debate.

“Maybe it’s in the right-of-way and will just get mowed down if we don’t save it!”

“If it is on someone’s property, I bet they don’t know or care that it’s there.”

“Let’s see if anyone is in the yard next door when we go back by. Then we can ask.”

Each time one of us would offer a new suggestion to justify digging it up, I would say, “We really shouldn’t.” Then we passed by it on our way back home. I looked longingly at the fern, and said, “I’ll ask Mommy. She can be my conscience.”

When my daughter Mary arrived home, Joshua told her about the fern, and I told her about our debate regarding its status, ending with, “I told the kids I’d let you be my conscience.”

Mary looked at me with an amused smile and an expression that said, “You already know the answer, Mom.”

I conceded, “You’re right. No digging! It’s not my property or my plant,” consoling myself with the hope of finding a grape fern (yes, Joshua and I looked it up) at a future native plant sale.

When I returned to Mary’s house several days later, Joshua could barely contain himself.

“Grammie! Guess what I found?! A fern like the one we saw on our walk. It’s in our yard!”

Sure enough, there, nestled next to the trunk of the Japanese maple not ten feet from their front door, was a grape fern. Joshua was adamant. “I want you to have it, Grammie. I know it will be happy in your garden.”

He handed me his trowel, and I proceeded to carefully dig up the tiny treasure.

“Thank you, Joshua! I’m glad we didn’t dig the other one up. Looks like God had one for us all along.”

Some might see the little plant as a reward for doing the right thing, but I don’t. Knowing we’ve made God-honoring choices is a reward in itself. Instead, I see it as a reminder that God is fully capable of providing whatever He deems is good for us. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills (Psalm 50:10-11) and cares for the birds and the lilies (Matthew 6:25-33). We have no reason to covet, rationalize, and certainly not steal!

I’ll readily admit that I didn’t “need” the fern, but I can never have too many reminders of God’s steadfast, intimate love. He sees me. He knows me, you, and each of His children by name. And, like a loving Father, He delights in giving us good gifts (Matthew 7:11).  

Even though many of my plants have connections to special people or events, I don’t think I’ve ever named one, but we decided the fern deserved a name. According to Joshua, it needed to be inspired by grapes since it’s a grape fern. I chose Scuppy, short for scuppernong, grapes that have a special connection to my mom, which is a story for another time.

When others see Scuppy in my garden, they’ll see a delicate fern, but I’ll see a memorial. Not one as imposing as the one erected by the Israelites when they crossed over the Jordan River (Joshua 4:1-8), but a monument nonetheless. One that will remind me that God has already given the priceless gift of His Son and will not withhold any lesser thing that He deems good for us (Romans 8:32).

Don’t Look!

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.
James 1:14-15

I Looked!

My late husband Ray started a decades-long tradition when he gave me several pieces of Department 56’s Dickens Village for my birthday in December 1989. Ray added to the village each year until he passed away in 1997. I continued accumulating pieces until 2019, when I declared it was complete. With 100 lit buildings and almost twice as many accessories, the village occupies three rooms of my house during the holiday season and requires nearly 20 hours of set-up time over multiple days. Though it’s a labor of love and accounts for the vast majority of my holiday decorating, I realized there was no need to keep adding to it, especially at my age and knowing my offspring may want a building or two and the accompanying accessory pieces, but no one is clamoring to take on the whole village.

Hence, for three years, I deleted the emails I received from the store in South Dakota, where I’d ordered many pieces over the last decade, without opening them. There was no need to look if I wasn’t intending to buy. But one recent day, I was scrolling through emails, and “VIP sale, 25% off!” caught my eye. I opened the email and clicked the link. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to peruse what had been added to the collection since I last looked.

Wow! Turns out it was quite a lot. Just as the cost of everything else has gone up the past couple of years, prices of the lit buildings have sky-rocketed. I admired the new pieces but focused on the more reasonably-priced accessories, consoling myself with the knowledge that the village doesn’t have room for any more residences, churches, or shops. But accessories – that’s a different story! The village isn’t overpopulated – plenty of room to welcome a few more residents and pets.

I Bought!

Occasionally, I’ve added new pieces to the town merely because they were pretty, but usually, I choose items that have a special connection to a person, memory, or tradition. I scrolled through the offerings and started adding accessories to my cart, recognizing first one association and then another:

  • “To Keep the Doctor Away,” a lady selling apples, speaks directly to my daily habit of eating an apple and sharing it with my grandchildren if they’re around.
  • “Winter Game of Catch,” a little boy tossing a snowball to his dog, is reminiscent of Cash, my grandchildren’s pet, rushing to the refrigerator when one of us runs the ice maker in hopes we’ll toss him a cube or two.
  • A couple of garden-related items – no explanation needed!

One by one, the items went into my cart. I removed several before I checked out – no need to go overboard – but seven items were still on the list when I clicked “Submit Order.”

As soon as I did, I thought, “This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t looked,” which immediately led me to think about the age-old pattern of temptation, which often starts with looking, followed by rationalizing.

I Pondered!

Eve wasn’t subject to mindlessly scrolling through email, but she had a wily adversary who directed her attention to the only off-limits tree in her garden paradise home. Reeled in by Satan’s assertion that she wouldn’t die if she ate its fruit, she looked and saw that the tree was good for food and a delight to the eyes. She even convinced Adam it would be ok.

Their eyes were opened alright, but they were no longer delighted as the gravity of their decision closed in on them. The consequences of their disobedience affect their offspring to this day and will until Jesus, the promised Seed, returns to conquer death once and for all (Genesis 3). 

And how about King David? He decided to stay home while his men went out to do battle. Not being where he was supposed to be was his first mistake, but the real trouble began late one afternoon. Strolling about on his roof, he caught sight of a beautiful woman bathing. Did he do the decent, respectful thing, avert his eyes, and make his way back into the palace? Nope. He allowed his gaze to linger, igniting his desire. Even when his servant reported that Bathsheba was Eliam’s daughter and Uriah’s wife, it was too late. The king simply had to have her. Just like Eve’s decision began a series of woeful events, so did David’s, including adultery and murder (2 Samuel 11).

Then there’s Lot’s wife. Unlike Eve and David, she didn’t get another chance to repent and return to the narrow path. When she paused and looked back at the devastation God’s wrath wrought on Sodom, she turned into a pillar of salt right on the spot (Genesis 19:24-26).

Granted, purchasing a few accessories for my village won’t have such dire consequences. As my daughter Mary used to say, I wasn’t putting the grocery money at risk, plus my grandchildren happily made the connections as soon as I showed them the new pieces several days ago. However, the ease with which I gave in to this relatively minor temptation serves as a good reminder that heading down the wrong path in more life-altering areas generally begins with looking, lingering, and considering, a pattern James described in the introductory verses above. Before you know it, you can be many steps down a road you never intended to take.

Though our compassionate heavenly Father remembers we’re dust and removes our sins as far as the east is from the west when we repent and seek His forgiveness (Psalm 103:6-14), our wandering usually leads to consequences for us and those we cherish most. Thus, it’s best to stick to the narrow way to begin with, looking neither to the left nor right.

O Lord, we are surrounded by temptations, but Your word assures us that no temptation has overtaken us that is not common to man. Furthermore, You are faithful, and will not let us be tempted beyond our ability, but with the temptation will also provide the way of escape, that we may be able to endure it (1 Corinthians 10:13). Please help us to avail ourselves of the means of escape You provide so that we won’t pierce ourselves or those dear to us with the consequences of our straying.

Orphaned Widow

/ Patsy Kuipers / 12 Comments

Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation.
Psalm 68:5

A New Reality

They’re gone.

Sometimes it’s my first waking thought. The reality settles over my sorrowing soul like a heavy mantle. I’m an orphan now. Though some might reserve that designation for minor children, and I left my childhood years behind many decades ago, in the strictest sense of the word, I assumed that title when Dad joined Mom in the presence of Jesus in the wee hours of July 12th.

I’m finding it difficult to grasp my new status or describe what it feels like to realize the two people who knew me from the first day of my life and through all the ups and downs that followed are no longer within reach of a phone call or hug.

Admittedly, our roles began to shift three years ago when Mom’s health declined significantly. There were times when I would accompany her to a doctor’s appointment, and she’d say, “Patsy’s the mother now. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Then, six months after Mom died, Dad had a stroke. Fortunately, the incident didn’t leave him with any physical weakness, but it took a toll on his brilliant mind. Details confounded him, and he couldn’t keep track of time. Thus, I took over his finances and oversaw his care at the assisted living facility we picked out together, his home for the last eighteen months of his life.

Cheerleader and Protector

Everyone needs someone in their corner, and Mom was in mine from my earliest days. She was my lifelong cheerleader, always encouraging and believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. Though my relationship with Dad was more turbulent, I never doubted he would protect and provide for me and that I could turn to him for wise counsel.

Despite the role reversal that accompanied her final months, as long as Mom was alive, I knew I had someone who would cheer me on and believe in me unreservedly. Likewise, the sense that Dad had my back remained even though, more and more, it was me who had his.

When I became a widow at age 38, Mom and Dad graciously moved to Georgia to help me raise Mary and Jessie, who were only 10 and 7 years old when their dad died. No special-occasion-only visits for us. Nope, Mom and Dad completed our nuclear family. Mom usually picked Mary and Jessie up from school, and we ate dinner with them most nights.

The fact that Mom and Dad played such a prominent role not only in my life but also in my girls’ magnifies the loss. They were tightly woven into the fabric of our lives, and their passing produced holes in our family tapestry.

Widowed First

As I’ve been contemplating my parentless state, verses that declare God to be a Father to the fatherless have come to mind. Have you ever noticed how those passages usually include His concern for widows too? I became a widow 26 years before becoming an orphan, and across those years, I’ve become well acquainted with God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. He has been my Defender, and I know I can count on Him to be my Father.

Wisdom tops the list of all the things I’ve prayed for since my husband died. I’ve routinely sought the Lord’s guidance, and He has repeatedly shown me the way. Now is no different as I seek God’s will to navigate this season of life as the eldest generation, responsible for managing the legacy Mom and Dad left to us – how best to glorify God and honor their memory in the process.

I’ve been journaling more than usual the past few weeks, trying to work through the emotions accompanying my parents’ loss and the feelings of “what now.” One day, I listed four specific areas where I needed wisdom and asked God to show me how to proceed. When I revisited the list a couple of days ago, I realized God had already given me clear direction on three of the four decisions. The fourth matter is ongoing, and I trust God will provide insight when I need it (James 1:5-6).

Motherly Love, Fatherly Protection

In addition to prayer, I’ve sought solace in familiar Bible verses. As is often the case, I’ve seen a new angle as the Spirit has applied the living, active word to my present situation (Hebrews 4:12). Take a look at these two passages:

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing (Zephaniah 3:17).

Behold, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young (Isaiah 40:10-11).

In the past, I’ve focused on the tenderness in these passages, the motherly qualities, if you will, but this week, God’s mighty power stood out to me. The love of my heavenly Father, who’ll never leave me, encompasses the aspects I miss most in my dear parents – Mom’s enduring encouragement and Dad’s persistent protection. What a blessing!

Sojourners

Remember the passages I referred to earlier that mention orphans and widows? God included a third category among the groups His people were supposed to care for in their midst: aliens and sojourners. Regardless of our marital or parental status, all of us are sojourners in this world. As God’s children, we are on our way to a better country, our true Home (Hebrews 11:16).

Mom and Dad knew and loved me from my first day in this world, but God chose me before the foundation of the world to be His (Ephesians 1:4-5). He knit me together in Mom’s womb, predestined me to be conformed to the image of His Son, determined when and where I would live, and wrote my days in His book before even one came to be. His love for me will never end.

One day, I’ll join Mom and Dad in the presence of Jesus, where there will be no more orphans, widows, or sojourners because we’ll all be safely Home.

Dear Lord, thank You that Mom and Dad were in my life for over six decades and for the blessing they were to me, my daughters, and my grandchildren. Even so, I know their love for us pales in comparison to Your perfect, infinite love. I rest and rejoice in the assurance that You will guide and protect us until we arrive Home to spend eternity in Your glorious presence.

Faith Connections

/ Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.
3 John 1:4

Ending and Beginning

My 30-year career at a large corporation came to an abrupt end 12 years ago in a windowless conference room where my manager stated, “I know you’re expecting your annual review, but you won’t be having it because your job has been eliminated.”

Given all that had happened in the months leading up to her pronouncement, the news didn’t come as a surprise. I knew it was an answer to prayer for direction and a clear indication from the Lord that my time there was over.[1]

Some might say a chapter of my life ended that day, but the years encompassing my work history would fill a volume. I was thankful for the many opportunities and relationships I’d had over those three decades and for the salary and benefits the work provided, especially after I was widowed at age 38 and was left to raise two young daughters on my own.

I knew the Lord had something else for me to do, but I never could have imagined the story He planned to write in Volume 2. Three months after the fateful afternoon, I returned to school to study horticulture. Three months after that, I became Grammie to my first grandchild, a beautiful baby boy.

Grandboy Blessings

When I worked, my cubicle overlooked an attractively landscaped courtyard. Many days, I’d gaze out the window and wish I could be outside enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. I recalled those longings when I pushed Joshua through the neighborhood in his stroller, grateful that the Lord had not only fulfilled them but had also given me someone to share my love of the outdoors with. Joshua was my study buddy from his earliest days. While we strolled, I practiced my plant ID, pointing things out to him and repeating their names.

As Joshua grew, it became evident that he had an extraordinary ability to learn and retain information. Words like predator, prehensile, and paleontologist were part of his pre-school vocabulary. One day when I asked him which animal we might find in a box of animal crackers, he sincerely answered, “Ringtail lemur.” (If you surmised we watched countless episodes of Wild Kratts, you’d be correct!) I made a deal with Joshua, “You teach me about animals, and I’ll teach you about plants.”

Our deal has worked well over the years, even though I’ll never catch up to Joshua’s knowledge about animals, and he can hold his own in our plant discussions. He’s a great field trip buddy too. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about The Pocket, my favorite place to relish spring wildflowers, since it’s a small, remote area some 70 miles away. His enthusiastic, “Can we come again next year, Grammie?” when we’d barely left the parking lot after our first visit, dispelled my doubts.

Spiritual Links

As much as I delight in telling Joshua about plants, I cherish telling him about the One who created everything even more. In fact, many of our plant and animal conversations will lead us to a Scriptural connection:

  • We marvel that God created so many different varieties of plants and animals.
  • We look forward to the day when the ground will no longer be cursed with thistles and thorns, and the animals will no longer attack each other (Revelation 22:1-3; Isaiah 11:6-9).  
  • We ponder things like, “Why did God create roaches?” (Ick!!)
  • When the good guy wins and the bad guys get their comeuppance in a Wild Kratts episode, we assure each other that Jesus, the ultimate Hero, will subdue His enemies and make all things right (Revelation 11:15).  

I often remind Joshua and his sisters that God displays His character throughout creation. It’s up to us to pay attention, see the spiritual tie-ins, and give thanks for God’s good gifts.

Parable of the Bulbs

Given our nature-related Bible lessons, you can imagine how pleased I was by the exchange Joshua and I had one recent afternoon. He’d been helping me clean out my garage when he came across some bulbs I’d dug up and tossed into some empty pots intending to offer them to fellow gardeners. Alas, they’d been sitting in those pots for over a year. After such a long time out of the ground, I doubted they’d be viable, but I told Joshua he could sort through them and see if there were any signs of life.

He set about his task and found a few bulbs with tiny green sprouts emerging from their tips. I explained he could gently squeeze the other bulbs to judge their status. They might be worth planting if they weren’t mushy or completely dried out.

 A few more minutes passed, and Joshua announced, “Grammie! I removed the dried-out layers from the outside of the bulbs, and some of them show signs of life. That made me think of a parable!”

“Really? Tell me your parable!”

He did.

“That’s great, Joshua! I might have to include it in a blog post.”

Thus, here, with some minor edits, is Joshua’s “Parable of the Bulbs”:

Mankind is like a pile of bulbs sitting in a pot. They look dead until you strip away the outer layers. On some you’ll see some new foliage, yellowed from lack of sun, but the bulb is still alive. On others the core of the bulb is dead. The ones that are dead can’t be planted. Their core is rotten and they must be thrown on the debris pile. The others, however, can be placed in a pot of soil and can be grown again.

This parable is applicable to our life in Christ because we’re like the bulbs. We’re all dead until Jesus comes and strips the outer layers away and gives us new life in Him. When we’re alive, we can be planted in the pot of heaven. Those who lack new life in Christ are thrown into the debris pile, where they’ll rot forever.

The fact that Joshua could see a spiritual connection while sorting through the pile of bulbs made my heart happy. It also fuels my desire to continue to help Joshua and his sisters make those connections – evidence of God’s goodness is all around us. What a privilege to tell the youngest generation about His steadfast love!

[1] If you’d like to read more about those circumstances, please see “Working All Things Together for Good,” Archives, July 2014.

Legacy and Longing

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Dear readers, the events of the past few years as I walked with Mom and Dad on their Homeward journeys have filled my mind and heart with myriad images and emotions, plenty to ponder, process, and write about in the coming weeks. But today, the brain fog of grief is still with me, and those images and emotions are jumbled together, so I’m rerunning one of my favorite posts with a brief intro.

Last Wednesday, we laid Dad to rest in the little country cemetery where Mom, my husband Ray, and many other cherished relatives are already interred. Until Mom’s funeral two years ago, the peaceful place was an abstract idea for my grandchildren, “where Grandpa Kuipers is buried.” But now they’ve sat in the same wooden pews where several generations of Phillips relatives sat and have seen the Sunday school classroom where I heard Bible stories before joining adults for worship when I visited as a child. They’ve seen the grave markers and felt the tranquility that permeates the very breeze that gently ruffles the leaves of decades-old trees that tower above them.

They’ve also walked the aisles of the general store just down the street from the little church, the same aisles I trod with my beloved grandfather six decades ago. I wrote “Eating Apples” in loving memory of him. I’m not sure if he was the first believer in his family or if our Christian legacy began even further back. Regardless, his faith and faithfulness formed a significant link in my heritage, one that is now shaping a fourth generation.

With the passing of each loved one, the hope of heaven becomes increasingly precious. Just as there is a spot between Mom and Ray waiting to receive my earthly remains, I know Jesus is preparing a place where I will dwell with Him forever. Until then, I pray He will help me to be faithful in sharing His goodness and grace with those He places in my path.

And now, let me introduce you to PaPa, my beloved grandfather.

Eating Apples – encore

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13

Cherished Memories

I don’t have many distinct memories of my grandfather since I was in first grade when he passed away. However, I cherish the recollections I do have. Details provided by my mom as she spoke lovingly of her father over the years complete my mental portrait of this kind and gentle man. 

Born July 31, 1890, James Alton Phillips was a short fellow, about 5’ 3”, who weighed 125 pounds, give or take a few. Genetics undoubtedly played a part in his slight build, but a lifetime of hard work farming his land also contributed to his compact physique. My mom was the baby of her family, the youngest of eight siblings, and her father’s darling. He called her “Babe” and warmed her clothes by the fire before she went to school on cold mornings.

Occasionally my grandmother, sterner in her demeanor, would delegate the task of disciplining a wayward child to my grandfather. He would take the offending party outside beyond her view and tell the child to cry out while he used the switch on some inanimate object instead of their legs.

As for me, I recall walking hand in hand with him to the small general store, stopping by the post office to check Box 73 for mail, and waiting for the train to come by so we could wave to the conductor and count the cars. But my favorite activity was eating apples with him. “PaPa,” as I called him, would sit me on his lap, producing an apple in one hand and a small knife in the other. He’d cut a slice for me, then a slice for himself. Back and forth the ritual would continue until we finished the tasty fruit. For as long as I can remember, I’ve eaten an apple almost every day. And when I do, I always think of my grandfather.

A Godly Man

“Mr. Jim,” as the people around town knew him, was a man of faith, a deacon in the tiny country church where he worshiped. He embodied the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). When he suffered a heart attack a few months before he died, the doctor told him he had to limit his physical activities. The doctor’s order was like a death sentence for a man who loved his garden and was used to being outside. He’d sit in the kitchen of the home he shared with my grandmother, his wife of 55 years, turn his gaze toward the little church, and comment he’d rather be in the cemetery than just sitting around.

Nearly 58 years ago, on October 25, 1965, God called PaPa Home. He had gone outside to check on some work a neighbor was doing for him, work he would much rather have done himself. In a fitting end to his earthly life, he died in his garden. I can still hear my mother’s anguished cry, “No, not Daddy!,” when she received the phone call telling her of his passing.

Abiding Love

Although our relationship was brief in terms of time, and nearly six decades have passed since we last shared an apple, PaPa’s love impacts me to this day. Years after his death, the large corporation I worked for sent me to a training course, one of many I attended during my career. But that one, a self-awareness workshop, was different. A team of psychologists facilitated it, and it was intense. One of our first exercises involved closing our eyes and imagining a safe place. I immediately envisioned myself in my grandfather’s lap, sharing an apple with him. The physical nourishment we’d partaken of paled compared to the bonds of unconditional love and acceptance formed during our time together.

Today I’m privileged to be “Grammie” to three precious grandchildren. Sharing snacks, especially apples, is one of my favorite things to do with them. It connects me to them and them to my grandfather, who they’ve come to know by my loving accounts of my short yet precious time with him.

A Promised Reunion

I don’t get to visit the small graveyard where my grandparents and many other maternal relatives are laid to rest as often as I’d like. My husband Ray is buried there, too, near my sister, Mary Jeannette, who died in infancy. Last spring, Mom took her place between them, leaving a space for me.

When I worked, my job frequently took me to that area of North Carolina, and I’d visit the cemetery as often as possible. I would gaze at the tombstones, each representing someone I love and long to see again, pondering how glorious it will be when we all rise to new life, a life that will never end (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). For the love we share now is but a shadow of the Love that awaits when the Everlasting Arms reach out to embrace us and welcome us Home (1 Corinthians 13:4-13).

Until then, I’ll remain thankful for little rituals and rock-solid faith, lovingly shared, that can reach across the decades, blessing one generation after another.

O Lord, how great are the gifts of familial love and a heritage of faith! Please help us to be resolute in telling those coming along behind us about Your great love and faithfulness so that they, too, may know the joy and peace of belonging to Your family.

Through the Valley

/ Patsy Kuipers / 10 Comments

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.
Psalm 23:4

“He’s gone.” My throat, tight with tears, barely allowed me to utter the words when I called Dad’s hospice nurse shortly after 3:30 AM Wednesday.

The rollercoaster Dad and I had been riding for the past couple of months, enduring the ups and downs and twists and turns of his precarious health, had come to a gentle stop.[1] Dad disembarked and passed peacefully into the presence of Jesus, leaving me to sob alone on the platform.

Yet even in that dark moment, I knew I wasn’t truly alone. God was counting each tear, assuring me that Dad was better than he’d ever been. And I felt the prayers of friends and relatives, a mighty fortress built petition by petition in the days and hours leading up to Dad’s Homegoing.

When we heard of some tragedy or other, my late husband, Ray, and I often said, “How do people get through (fill in the blank) without faith in God?”

Ray passed away suddenly from a heart attack a few weeks after his 39th birthday. In the intervening years, 26 of them, I’ve endured other life-changing losses, including the elimination of my job after a 30-year career, watching my elderly parents’ health decline, losing Mom two years ago, and now Dad. These and other less significant losses have led me to affirm repeatedly what Ray and I used to say to each other. Without God, I would never have made it through these events and their aftermath, nor will I make it through future hardships.

But I won’t have to.

I’m not fond of the aging process or the accompanying aches, pains, and infirmities, but one thing I do like about increasing years is that I have more and more examples of God’s goodness and faithfulness to file away in my spiritual memory bank. Several passages in addition to the one above from Psalm 23 have become foundational for me, providing comfort when the path before me is grueling or uncertain:

  • The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:22-23)
  • It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (Deuteronomy 31:8)
  • But (God) said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

I know challenges lie before me as we plan and have Dad’s funeral, find homes for his belongings, and settle his estate. I fully expect to be riding an emotional rollercoaster for a while, though I doubt the climbs and drops will be as steep as they have been. Even though I will grieve, I will do so with hope, knowing Dad’s faith has become sight and he and Mom are back together, beyond the reach of earthly pains and heartaches.

And I will cling to the promises in the passages above, promises that have withstood the assault of previous trials and misfortunes.

Dear readers, I expect many of you are dealing with your own tribulations. Please remember, we’re never alone, no matter how dark the valley we or our loved ones are walking through. We have the tender care of our ever-present Father. He’s never forsaken us, and He never will. That is our hope and assurance as we traverse the vale of tears.

[1] If you would like to read “The Rollercoaster,” you can find it in Archives, June 2023.

Prowling About

/ Patsy Kuipers / 6 Comments

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
1 Peter 5:8

Another Anniversary

Dear readers, I launched Back 2 the Garden nine years ago yesterday. Some of you have been with me on my journey to share stories of God’s goodness and faithfulness since that first post, while others have found their way to my little place in the blogosphere more recently. Regardless of the length of our association, thank you for taking the time to read my posts. As I write, I always pray God will use my humble attempts to encourage others and point them to Him, our source of life, hope, and peace.

This is my 246th post. Longtime readers know I don’t seek to be contentious. Yet, ironically, the object lesson I’ve chosen to write about this time might provoke a strong response, so I will preface it by saying I do not hate cats – I’ve had several as pets – and I don’t mistreat animals unless you count roaches which I obliterate if they get within reach! Whether you’re a fellow cat-lover or think dogs are man’s best friend, I hope you’ll read all the way to the end for the real villain.

A Terrible Sight

As soon as I stepped out of the garage, I heard a commotion coming from the large camellia in front of my house. I looked that way and realized the shrill noises emanated from a bird who jumped up and dove back into the bush. She repeated the moves several times. Frantic flapping accompanied her desperate chirping.

My mind quickly ran through possibilities as I strode closer. What could be pestering the bird to elicit such frenzied behavior? Was it another bird? A snake? Oh no, not a CAT!! The thought had no sooner entered my mind than my neighbor’s black cat plopped to the ground under the camellia. I approached her, scolding and clapping my hands. But, unlike usual, my shooing didn’t work. Instead, she flashed a nonchalant look my way and opened her mouth enough for me to see the mangled body of a baby bird.

I stomped toward her, yelling, “Noooo! How could you?!” Unremorseful, she trotted off to consume what remained of her tiny prey.

I picked up a stick and chased her all the way around my house, threatening as I pursued her. I’m glad I didn’t catch her since giving full vent to your anger rarely results in a positive outcome unless it’s a Jesus-casting-money-changers-out-of-the-Temple moment. As much as the event I witnessed shocked and saddened me, it didn’t meet that criteria.

I don’t know how long I stood vigil by the camellia, stick in hand, plotting how to protect the other babies in the nest. I could hear their muted chirps and imagined the mother’s despair at losing one of them. I contemplated several extreme possibilities, but after googling options gave me time to calm down, I sprinkled cayenne pepper on the ground around the giant shrub and on several of its lower branches in hopes it would provide a deterrent against future foraging.

The Real Enemy

The horrible scene of the cat dropping to the ground with the broken body in its mouth replayed in my mind. I couldn’t unsee it, no matter how hard I tried. As I sat at my table and lamented the wanton loss of life, I realized I wasn’t just weeping for the mamma bird and her baby. Death has snatched too many people, both friends and relatives, from my life in the past few years. In fact, I’d received word just a few hours before the cat incident that a dear sister in Christ had entered the Lord’s presence after a courageous battle with cancer. And that news came the day after I attended the funeral of a friend’s father.

Sometimes death pounces, taking its prey quickly as it did with my husband. Then again, it will toy with its victim, batting and clawing, diminishing them bit by bit as it did with my beloved mother and is doing now with my dad. Oh, how it hurt to watch Mom lose the ability to balance her checkbook or make the pound cake she’d baked countless times for over 50 years. Oh, the pain of seeing my strong, capable daddy withering away, barely able to feed himself or complete his sentences.

I was chasing my neighbor’s pet around the house, but she was only symbolic of the actual target of my rage. Our enemy prowls about like a roaring lion seeking someone to destroy, and even though death won’t get the final say, it presently causes great sorrow. We weren’t supposed to get old or sick or die, and the animals weren’t supposed to eat each other, but sin entered God’s beautiful, perfect world. All of creation has been groaning ever since (Romans 8:19-22).

Ultimate Victory

Praise God; we know the groaning won’t last forever. Though death is part of our life now, Jesus dealt the promised fatal blow to the enemy of our souls. He secured the victory when He went to the cross and endured God’s wrath for us so that we can enter into God’s presence, robed in His righteousness (Romans 5:8-11). It is finished!

Our pastor ended this morning’s sermon by reminding us that death and grief do not define us. We are covenant children, people of hope, who have God’s immutable promises as a sure anchor for our souls (Hebrews 6:19).

When Jesus ushers in the new heavens and new earth, death and tears and pain will have no place. The wolf will dwell with the lamb. Nothing will harm or kill or destroy on God’s holy mountain ever again.

I long for the day when our Savior will return to make all things right. I may have been yelling at the cat and weeping over my friend’s passing and my dad’s waning abilities, but I know the Lord heard the true cry of my heart, “Come, Lord Jesus!”

Forever Promises

In closing, I want to share two of my favorite passages regarding what we look forward to with absolute assurance. I pray they’ll encourage your heart as well.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” (Revelation 21:1-5, emphasis mine)

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb,
    and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat,
and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together;
    and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze;
    their young shall lie down together;
    and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the cobra,
    and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den.
 They shall not hurt or destroy
    in all my holy mountain;
for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord
    as the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 11:6-9, emphasis mine)