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)

I’ll Be Back!

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:2-3).

A Difficult Decision

I wasn’t with my husband when he passed away. I was holding Mom’s hand when she took her last breath. Given Dad’s fragile health, I had mixed emotions about embarking on my long-awaited, highly-anticipated trip to South Dakota. However, after much prayer and consultation with close friends, I decided to go. I trusted the Lord knew my plans and would orchestrate the circumstances of Dad’s passing so I would be exactly where I was supposed to be if the time came. Even so, I prayed I wouldn’t be halfway across the country if the Lord called him Home.

At my request, I received daily text updates from Dad’s hospice nurses. Though the ups and downs I described in my last post, “The Rollercoaster,” continued, Dad didn’t experience any extreme lows while I was away. In fact, as I sat in the Denver airport waiting to board my flight back to Atlanta, my phone dinged, announcing the day’s report. Not only did the words contain positive news, but there was also a photo of Dad sitting up, smiling, and eating apple slices. What a wonderful sight! I texted the picture to my daughters along with the message, “Papop’s having a good day!”

Nonetheless, remembering the last time I texted them similar news only to have Dad’s condition plummet a mere 24 hours later, I prayed, “Lord, please give me the grace to deal with whatever situation I find,” as I walked the hall to Dad’s apartment Friday evening.

Joyful Reunion

Much to my delight, I found him awake and ready to eat dinner. A mixture of relief and joy colored his countenance as I approached his bed. When I put my hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and said, “Oh, Patsy! You’re finally back! I’m so happy to see you. I love you so, so much!”

I told Dad about my trip before I left and assured him I would be back in a week, but the stroke he had 20 months ago robbed him of his ability to keep track of time. I could only imagine the week felt more like a month. Maybe he’d even begun to wonder if I’d ever return.

After I helped him with his dinner, he said he needed to call Mike, a dear family friend. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk to Mike about in the middle of our visit, but I obliged. When Mike answered, he asked Dad how he was doing. Nothing could have prepared me for his answer.

“Heaven has poured out blessings on me!”

Mike, somewhat puzzled, replied, “Oh, really?”

“Yes, my young’un has come home!”

Suffice it to say, I don’t remember much of the rest of the conversation. Overcome by Dad’s exuberant declaration, I struggled to contain my tears.

Jesus’ Return

As I replayed the scene in my mind, I began to think about Jesus’ promise to return. It’s been a long time since He left, and sometimes we may be tempted to believe He’s forgotten about us and isn’t coming back. Scripture assures us that God is not slow in keeping His promises. Furthermore, much like Dad has trouble keeping track of the days, we don’t reckon time as God does (2 Peter 3:8-9).

Those musings, in turn, led me to recall how rarely my daughters ever cried when I left them in the church nursery or daycare or at a friend’s house with a hug, kiss, and cheerful assurance, “I’ll be back!”

I suppose they knew they could count on it because I’d never abandoned them, though I did get my signals crossed one day, thinking Mom was picking Jessie up from school, only to arrive home and find her missing at the dinner table, but that’s a story for another time!

If my daughters could depend on me, a finite being, to keep my pledge, how much more can we rely on Jesus to keep His?

God the Father vowed to send a Redeemer (Genesis 3:15), and, in the fullness of time, the Son came (John 3:16), fulfilling God’s promise and hundreds of Old Testament prophecies surrounding the Messiah’s birth, life, and death. That’s a way better track record than I have, one that guarantees the trustworthiness of the prophecies and promises yet to be accomplished.

Never Forgotten

When they were little, I doubt my daughters realized that even when we were apart, they were on my heart and in my prayers, and I looked forward to the time when we would be back together. The same is true today and extends to other beloved family members and friends; thus, Dad is never far from my mind, regardless of our physical location.

These sentiments provide an inkling of God’s intense, abiding love for us, recorded by the prophet Isaiah:

Can a woman forget her nursing child,
that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?
Even these may forget,
 yet I will not forget you.
Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands (Isaiah 49:15-16).

What a consolation! God hasn’t forgotten us, and He never will, not for a moment. Jesus is preparing a place for us. He’s promised to return and dwell with us forever. It’s a promise we can rely on and joyfully tell others about, just as Dad gladly shared the news of my return with Mike.

I’m thankful to have Dad with us for another Father’s Day. I rejoice even more in knowing we’ll have eternity together in God’s presence, reunited with the loved ones who’ve gone before us. Count on it!

The Rollercoaster

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. John 10:28-29

A Terrifying Ride

I was in elementary school when Mom, Dad, and I went to Myrtle Beach for the first of many family beach vacations. One evening we ventured to the amusement park, home of the Swamp Fox, a towering wooden roller coaster. I must have been eight or nine at the time, totally unaware of how it felt to ride such a thing, so when Dad suggested Mom and I get in the front seat, I went for it. Being first is a big deal when you’re a kid, plus I would have a great view of the park, right?

My dad’s mischievous grin should have given me a hint regarding what awaited, but Mom and I climbed aboard when the coaster rattled into the station. The first few rises and falls were manageable, lulling me into complacency, but then we began to climb. Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. Higher and higher we went. The Swamp Fox reached the peak and then paused briefly before plummeting at a rate that left me gasping for breath. What little air I had escaped my lungs as uncontrollable screams.

I grasped the slender safety bar inches in front of my lap as if it were the only thing that stood between me and certain death. At my age, I did not understand the forces playing on my body as we hurtled toward Earth. Instead, a firm conviction permeated my being –  surely, if I let go for an instant, my body would catapult out of that seat.

Traumatized and terror-stricken, I vowed I’d never get on another rollercoaster! I kept that promise for ten years until another vacation found us at Busch Gardens Tampa Bay. I stood by one of the coasters, listening to the screams of riders as they sped over and around, up and down. Were they exhilarated or terrified?

Determined not to let rollercoasters get the best of me, I asked Dad to join me for a ride. I can’t say I enjoyed it, and I don’t remember how much or little I screamed, but I had the satisfaction of conquering a long-standing fear. Even so, I didn’t plan to ride one again, ever!

Back on Board

Despite my long-ago proclamation, I’m in the front seat of another rollercoaster, this time an emotional one, as Dad’s declining health becomes increasingly fragile. Highs and lows, twists and turns that mimic those of the iconic rides, have filled the past few weeks.

Dad has been sleeping more and eating less. He spends most of his time in bed, doesn’t talk much, and rarely looks at his newspapers, something he’s always done. But last Tuesday night was a different story. He ate his dinner and sat in his recliner while we visited. When I left, he was reading the comics and watching Sports Center.

What an improvement! I almost skipped to my car. I couldn’t wait to text the good news to my kids.

My heart was still singing a happy song of praise the next day. And then, barely 24 hours after I exited Dad’s apartment, I got a call that he’d fallen. He didn’t have any injuries, but his blood pressure was precariously low. 

I went to check on Dad and await the arrival of the on-call hospice nurse. After he examined him and took his vitals, Chris said, “I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I’ve seen people rally, but given your dad’s extremely low blood pressure and slow, erratic pulse, I’d say he’s nearing the end.”

I replied stoically, “Considering Dad’s recent decline, I can accept that, especially since he’s pain-free and not in distress. I’ve prayed he won’t experience the same torment Mom did in her final days.”

There would be no skipping to my car that night. Despite my brave words, it took me a long time to go to sleep. When I finally drifted off, I tossed and turned, plagued by troubling dreams.

Dad’s vitals improved over the next three days, and he resumed eating. But this morning, the buzzing of my FitBit jolted me out of a deep sleep. Dad had fallen again. Paramedics with him assured me he hadn’t broken any bones but needed me to confirm his wishes not to go to the hospital. I did so emphatically since I promised Dad several months ago when his hospice care began, that I would do everything possible to keep him out of the hospital.

Secure in the Father’s Grasp

Up and down, back and forth. I have no idea what will happen next. The uncertainty takes a physical as well as emotional toll. Not only did my tracker alert me to the incoming call, but it also captured the effect it and the news I received had on my heart as my pulse rate shot up from a restful 50-some beats per minute to nearly 100!

Though there are times when I feel like screaming, tears have become my emotional safety valve. Sometimes, I’ll sniffle intermittently throughout most of the day. I’m losing my dad bit by bit, and, to borrow a phrase one of my daughters used when Mom was slipping away, my heart is breaking in slow motion.

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. How high will the car climb? How steep will the plunge be, snatching my breath and elevating my heart rate? How many times can you prepare yourself for the worst?

I don’t know the answers to those questions, but nothing surprises God. I’m clinging to the same assurances I held on to when Mom’s earthly life was drawing to a close – God is faithful, His mercies are new every morning, and His grace is sufficient (Lamentations 3:21-24; 2 Corinthians 12:9).

Though there may be times when I feel like I’m free-falling, I know God is holding Dad and me safely in His grasp. His grip is more secure than any safety harness on any ride. Eventually, this rollercoaster will come to a stop. Until then, I will pray for wisdom and strength to help Dad as he makes his way Home.

O Lord, I am powerless against this great horde that is coming against Dad. I do not know what to do, but my eyes are fixed on You. Thank You that Your children are never out of Your sight or beyond Your reach.

An Invitation to Grieve

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Jesus wept.
John 11:35

Most Friday mornings, I can be found grocery shopping at a nearby Kroger. The floral department is within view of the entrance, and, being the plant lover I am, I stroll by the display slowly, enjoying the beautiful sight. I’ll also admit I usually check the clearance table to see if there are any slightly bedraggled houseplants that need a home.

Sadly, the sight that greeted me the two Fridays preceding Mother’s Day didn’t elicit the usual delight. Instead, the cheerful array of balloons, cards, and bouquets brought me to tears both weeks, even though I prepared myself for the onslaught of emotions the second week. I knew Mom would love anything and everything I picked out for her. I could imagine her smile and expressions of gratitude.

But I wouldn’t be picking out anything for Mom with eager anticipation, and she wouldn’t be joyfully receiving my gifts because she went to be with the Lord a week before Mother’s Day 2021, and I would be spending my third Mother’s Day without her. I sniffled my way up and down the first two aisles, finally reining in my tears so I could see my shopping list, but the sense of sadness lingered even after I returned home.

I didn’t sleep well the night before the fateful holiday. I dreaded facing another Mother’s Day without my best friend, lifelong cheerleader, and prayer warrior, and my 92-year-old father had experienced an alarming health incident the day before. My troubled mind worked overtime as I tossed and turned.

And then Sunday morning came, and the dam broke. I could no longer hold back the flood, nor did I even try to. I stood in the shower and sobbed, my tears flowing as fast as the water from the showerhead. I don’t know how many minutes passed before the torrent subsided, but it did, leaving me both spent and yet somehow comforted.

As Christians, we grieve with hope, but too often, we won’t allow ourselves to mourn fully and deeply the losses that send pieces of our hearts into graves along with our loved ones. We move quickly to the assurances:

  • To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8).
  • Death has lost its sting (1 Corinthians 15:55).
  • Jesus is preparing a place for us and will return to take us to be with Him (John 14:2-3).
  • We’ll spend eternity together in the presence of God, where there will be no more pain, mourning, tears, or death (Revelation 21:1-4).

Don’t get me wrong. I cherish those promises and ones like them. I frequently remind myself of them as I look forward to my heavenly Home and the glorious reunions that await. But I also need to permit myself to express the sorrow of losing loved ones without fear of disparaging my faith. Even though death’s sting is not permanent, it is still powerful and painful.

When Mom died, a friend referred to me as a “grief veteran.” Having been widowed at age 38, I know death is final in this life. The hand I long to hold and the voice I long to hear are lost to me for now. Likewise, Mom and I won’t share any more afternoons filled with haircut appointments and Starbucks treats or sit side-by-side in church on Sunday mornings. No, our departed loved ones won’t return to us. One day we will go to them, but for now, the separation hurts, and it’s ok to say so whether the loss occurred years ago or more recently.

Scripture describes our perfect Savior as a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3). If we ever doubt we have permission to grieve, we have only to look to Jesus. He experienced what it’s like to walk through this sin-scarred world. Even though He knew He would defeat death and not one of those entrusted to Him would be lost, Jesus wept because death was never part of God’s good plan. It stings. It always will this side of heaven.

A recent conversation with my pastor regarding our propensity to rush to the good news of Christ’s victory over death without allowing ourselves or others to grieve reminded me of my daughter Jessie’s comment as we stood by Mom’s grave two years ago. After watching Mom endure horrible pain the last ten days of her life, I said I was thankful she wasn’t suffering anymore. Jessie replied, “That’s true, but don’t miss out on the mourning, Mom.”

Dear reader, if you’ve lost someone you cherished, I, too, say, “Don’t miss out on the mourning.” Take your sorrow to the Lord, the compassionate One who understands. He will meet us in our grief.

Homeward Bound

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city (Hebrews 11:13-16).

Comings and Goings

Sometimes I think my smartphone is a little too smart. It keeps track of my comings and goings, and whenever I back out of my driveway, it anticipates where I’m headed, suggests a preferred route, and tells me how long it will take to get there. Sometimes it guesses incorrectly, but my phone’s predictions are usually accurate, given that I’m a creature of habit with a dependable pattern of destinations. Church on Sunday mornings, grocery shopping on Friday, dinner with Dad at his assisted living several evenings a week – my phone has made note of my whereabouts.

When I’m away from home and start my car, my phone always tells me how long it will take to return home. I can’t think of a time it’s suggested another destination, even though my Friday pattern almost always includes a stop at Starbucks after I get groceries.

The underlying assumption is valid though – ultimately, I want to get home safely.

Heading Home

As I was thinking about this the other day when my phone helpfully told me yet again how long it would take to get home, I mused, “What if I had something that told me how long it will take to get Home and the best route to take?”

Just as I wish to return home safely each time I depart, I fervently long to arrive Home. As dear as my little piece of property is, full of trees, shrubs, and flowers I’ve tended for almost 30 years, I’m reminded daily that this world isn’t my Home, no matter how lovely it is. This life is full of challenges, losses, and brokenness that make me yearn to be in the presence of the Lord.

Even so, I don’t really want to know how much longer my journey is. If I learned my earthly life was drawing to a close, I might despair of accomplishing the goals I’ve set for myself or dwell on the impact my death will have on my family. Conversely, if I discovered I had many years ahead of me, I might squander my time or grow weary at the thought of dealing with the trials of this life.

Closer Than We Think?

Further pondering led me to recall lyrics from a Michael W. Smith song, “I’m Waiting for You”:

You’re on the road
Thinking you’re far from here
And suddenly find
You’re very near

The words brought to mind two arduous events from the past couple of years:

Mom broke her hip, had surgery to repair it, and spent nine harrowing days in the hospital, days in which we kept vigil by her bedside, helpless and heartbroken. We made the necessary arrangements to bring her back to the home she shared with my dad, determined to care for her for whatever time the Lord allowed. We agreed to an interim stop at a hospice facility to stabilize her medication. It was there, barely 24 hours after she arrived, surrounded by family, that Mom took her last breath and slipped peacefully into the presence of the Lord. Just like that, her earthly strife was over. She was Home.

Last summer, I spent countless hours going through things Mom and Dad had accumulated in their nearly 70 years of marriage in preparation for selling their house. Given the hot housing market, I expected the house would be under contract quickly. However, I anticipated at least another month of checking the property each day while the buyers secured a loan, had the house inspected, and requested repairs. But we got a cash offer, and they wanted to settle the following week. Just like that, my responsibility ended.

Scripture urges us not to grow weary of doing good or to give up (Galatians 6:9). As one of my favorite podcasters said recently when describing the challenges of losing her mother bit by bit to Alzheimer’s, the Lord will allow trials to last long enough to accomplish His purposes, no more and no less. Though the two stressful scenarios I described above were relatively brief, even if a trial lasts a lifetime, it’s merely a dot along the line of eternity (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).

Traveling Companion

Now take a look at the first stanza of “I’m Waiting for You:”

I walked this road
So very long ago
To show the way
So you would know
I walked the road
With holes in my hands and feet
To make the way
Come follow me

Even though I don’t know how long it will take me to get Home or the details of the specific route God has planned for me, I have no doubt about the Way. Not only is Jesus the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6) whose sacrifice ensures we will reach our final destination, He’s promised never to leave or forsake us. His Spirit dwells within us, guiding, comforting, and reminding us of all Jesus said. Furthermore, Jesus is preparing a place for us and has promised to return to take us to be with Him (John 14:2-3).

Being confident of the Way, I don’t need to know the distance remaining on my journey. Instead, I take comfort in knowing all my days were written in God’s book before even one came to be (Psalm 139:16). Each morning when I wake up, I do so with purpose, knowing God must still have something for me to do. When I’ve finished the good works prepared for me in advance, He’ll call me Home.

Dear Lord, one day I may leave home and not make it back, like Mom, but thank You that I have complete confidence that I will make it Home, as she did, because of Jesus. Until then, please help me to glorify You all along the route You have ordained for me.

A Month for Remembering, Reprise

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?
1 Corinthians 15:54b-55

Beware the Ides of April

Though Ides looks plural, it is, in fact, singular and means the middle of a given month. According to the ancient Roman calendar,  the Ides fell on the 15th of  March, May, July, and October, and the 13th of the other months.

I’m not superstitious, and I realize I’m taking liberties with one of the most famous of Shakespeare’s often-quoted lines. Still, I’ve become wary of the middle of April, those days between the 10th and 20th,  because they are dotted with significant anniversaries of loss, both personal and national:

  • Waco Massacre – April 19, 1993
  • Oklahoma City Bombing – April 19, 1995
  • Ray, my dearly-loved husband, passed away from a heart attack on April 19, 1997, at the age of 39.
  • Columbine – April 20, 1999
  • VA Tech Shooting – April 16, 2007
  • Marcia, a dear sister-in-law, died on April 12, 2014, after a fall at her farm.
  • Mom was diagnosed with pneumonia on April 17, 2019, and spent the next 24 days in the hospital. There were several times we thought we’d lose her.
  • Mom fell and broke her hip on April 20, 2021, Dad’s 90th birthday. She went Home ten days later.

A Melancholy Month

When the calendar page turns to the fourth month, a sense of melancholy settles over my soul, much like pine pollen coats the Georgia landscape. I’ll admit I had to look up the specific dates of the national tragedies, though I knew they all occurred in April. Not so with the personal losses. Those dates and their attendant memories are etched into my mind.

Ray’s death forever divided my life into two pieces, before and after. Each year I intentionally revisit our last days together, when I had no idea how few there were, and the first days without him, when I wondered how I’d ever go on.

Now I do the same with memories of Mom. Unlike Ray’s final days, which were filled with typical family and work activities, Mom’s were plagued with pain and confusion, making the memories even more heartbreaking. In April 2021, medical appointments filled the calendar as I desperately sought help for Mom, whose health was precarious and becoming more so each day. Yet I didn’t realize I had less than a month left in this life with the one who was my chief cheerleader and devoted prayer warrior from the time I was born.

Purposely observing the passing of Ray and Mom, my two most ardent supporters, touches tender scars and re-opens the wounds. But it is a price I’m willing to pay as I honor the memory of these dear ones, gratefully recalling the love and blessings they poured into my life.

Hope Abounds

Despite the undercurrent of loss that runs through April reminiscences, my mood seldom remains somber for long. The beauty of springtime bursting forth all around me won’t allow it to.

I revel daily in the signs of new life, as leaves emerge on formerly bare branches, flowering shrubs look resplendent in their colorful array of blossoms, and perennials push their way out of the soil for another season of growth. And I delight in the increased activity around my bird feeders as my feathered friends form couples and begin raising their young.

Everywhere I look, I see reminders of resurrection hope.

Suffering Savior

Each year as Easter approaches, I ponder Jesus’ last week, just as I intentionally think back on Ray and Mom’s final days. On Palm Sunday, we remember His triumphal entry into Jerusalem, but over the next five days, the chants of adoration would be replaced by those of “Crucify Him!” (John 12:12-13; John 19:15)

In His final week, our beloved Savior, the Spotless Lamb of God, would wash His disciples’ feet, be betrayed with a kiss, abandoned by His closest friends, arrested, beaten, mocked, and crucified. Writing those words, contemplating all it cost Him to save me, brings tears to my eyes as quickly as thoughts of losing Ray and Mom – tears of sorrow for my sins and all He endured on my behalf.

Grieving with Hope

But death doesn’t get the final say. Jesus’ resurrection guarantees He’ll have the last word.

Though it is right to mourn our sins with sorrow that leads to repentance (2 Corinthians 7:10), we can rejoice knowing His atoning sacrifice removes our sins as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12). They no longer define us because our identity is hidden in Christ, and we are robed in His righteousness.

Furthermore, Jesus’ victory over death enables us to grieve the passing of our loved ones with the hope of knowing the separation, though painful, is only temporary (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). Jesus’ journey through the streets of Jerusalem, heralded by hosannas and palm branches, is but a shadow of His promised return. On that day, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord. The dwelling place of God will be with His people, and He will wipe away every tear. Death, mourning, and pain will be no more, for the former things will have passed away (Revelation 21:3-4).

Last week I observed the 26th anniversary of losing Ray. This week I’ll be remembering Mom’s final days as the second anniversary of her Homegoing approaches. Though I miss them both every day, I would not wish them back, for their faith has been made sight, and they are beyond the reach of the pain and troubles of this world. Instead, I look forward to the day when I will join them in the presence of the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8).

Thank You, Lord, for the hope we have in You. Because You took our punishment upon Yourself and then rose in victory over death, we have the assurance our sins are pardoned, and we, too, will be resurrected to eternal life in Your presence. May we be ever mindful of this truth to comfort our hearts while we tarry in this world where the effects of sin and brokenness remain.

Resurrection Life

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
Galatians 2:20

Happy Easter, dear readers!

I’m intentional about remembering the events of Jesus’ last week on earth – the triumphal entry, the Passover Feast with His disciples, Judas’ betrayal, the kangaroo court and false accusations, the scourging, mocking, and, ultimately, the crucifixion itself. One by one, the Old Testament prophesies regarding the Messiah came to pass until Jesus commended His Spirit into the Father’s hands, pronouncing, “It is finished” (John 19:30).

I’ve long said Easter is the best day of the year. Upon waking, my first thought is, “He is risen!” I can barely wait to get to church to share the greeting with my brothers and sisters in Christ and receive their response, “He is risen indeed!” After a week of solemnly contemplating all Jesus endured on my behalf, Resurrection Sunday is a joyful, hope-filled celebration.

A guest on a podcast I was listening to yesterday shared this A. W. Tozer quote:

“To the early Christians, Easter was not a holiday. We think of it as a holiday, but it wasn’t even a holy day for them. It wasn’t even a day at all. To the early Christians, it was an accomplished fact that lived with them all year long. They did not celebrate His rising from the dead and then go back to their everyday lives and wait another year. They lived by the fact the Christ has risen from the dead and they had risen with Him.”

The quote gave me pause. Jesus accomplished His mission. He defeated death, is seated at the right hand of the Father, interceding for us, and has promised to return. I can wake up every day knowing He is risen! That remarkable news is true even though we are living between the now and not yet. All Scripture says about those who are in Christ already applies, though we won’t fully experience the blessings of belonging until He returns. Consider, for example:

  • We’ve been made alive in Christ and are seated with Him in the heavenly places (Ephesians 2:5-6).
  • We have a secure inheritance (Ephesians 1:11-13).
  • The power of the Holy Spirit is at work within us – the same power that raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19-20).
  • We have the promise that our bodies will be raised and transformed as Jesus’ body was, becoming imperishable, fit for eternity with God (1 Corinthians 15:50-55).
  • We are counted righteous in Christ (Romans 3:23-24).
  • We are held fast in the Father’s grasp (John 10:27-29).
  • We have been freed from the power of sin and death (Romans 6:22-23).

I could go on and on. So many blessings because Jesus finished His work,  and He isrisen!

This morning, our pastor added a twist to the Easter greeting I cherish. In response to his, “He is risen!” he encouraged us to say, “He is risen indeed, and we are risen with Him!” Oh, I like that. It succinctly conveys the sentiments behind A. W. Tozer’s statement.

Most days, before I get out of bed, I thank God for another day, that His mercies are new every morning, and that His grace is sufficient for whatever I’ll face in the coming hours. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to add, “He is risen, and I am risen with Him!” to my refrain. Won’t you join me? After all, it’s a life-changing reality we can relish every day, not just on Easter.

Dear Jesus, thank You for paying the debt we owed but could never pay so that we can have abundant life now and unimaginable blessings in Your presence throughout eternity. Please help us to recognize and rejoice in all Your resurrection means for us each and every day.

All Better

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

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.”
Revelation 21:3-4

A Pleasant Pastime

A decade or so ago, I discovered the joys of feeding the birds that frequent my wooded property. Cardinals, chickadees, woodpeckers, nut hatches, and titmice are year-round visitors. Other varieties stop by occasionally as they pass through en route to their final destinations.

I placed the feeders where I can see them from several vantage points in my kitchen, so the birds provide entertainment when I’m washing dishes or sitting at my table.

Over the years, I’ve observed a hierarchy in Birdville. The red-bellied woodpecker, one of the largest birds to visit the buffet, appears to be at the top of the pecking order. I’ve never seen him harass any of the other birds, but when he shows up, they move out of the way until he’s finished eating.

Occasionally, when the woodpecker isn’t around, a bird will barge in, scattering those already on the feeder, but, for the most part, they take turns, and meal times proceed in an orderly manner.

Trouble in Birdville

Imagine my dismay last weekend when a menacing mockingbird decided to keep everyone else away from the feeders. When I first saw it chasing the other birds, I thought, “Just wait until the woodpecker returns. He’ll restore order.”

But the woodpecker didn’t return that afternoon, and the mockingbird continued to harass every bird that attempted to get a seed or bit of suet. I decided I’d have to be the protector. I repeatedly got up from the table where I was trying to work on an article for our women’s ministry newsletter, opened the door to my deck, and shooed the belligerent bird away.

The mockingbird was determined. Not only was it keeping other birds from the feeders, but it was also chasing them in the woods, diving and swooping like a fighter plane. The futility of my efforts swallowed up the joy usually associated with feeding my feathered friends. Furthermore, it took at least twice as long to write the article as it would have had I not been policing the deck, adding fuel to the bubbling cauldron of emotions threatening to boil over.

Where oh where was the woodpecker? Surely he wasn’t afraid of the intruder!

Order Restored

When I came downstairs the following morning, the mockingbird had already assumed its post on the deck railing, ready to attack. Dismay and disappointment joined lingering anger from the day before, but mostly I felt my insufficiency. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make it all better.

I decided to place two feeders in the woods and two on the deck in hopes the mockingbird wouldn’t be able to guard all of them, and the other birds could get a few bites to eat. I consoled myself with the truth that even though I feel responsible for the birds on my property, they all belong to God. I prayed He would take care of them (Psalm 145:15-16).

The next day, while I was still upstairs, I heard a melodious blend of bird songs, chirps, and twitters. The woods were full of the music I’ve become accustomed to on spring mornings. Could it be that order had been restored?

I ventured downstairs and found the red-bellied woodpecker had returned. Ever since, birds of all sizes, from tiny Carolina wrens to big brown thrashers, have been taking turns at the feeders. Even the mockingbird, now minding its manners, has been stopping by. Ah, harmony in Birdville. What a relief!

The Real Issue

Do you ever overreact? I’ve learned when I respond with oversized emotions to a situation I may barely remember a month later, it’s usually due to an infusion of angst from an underlying event. Such was the case with the scenario I described above. That bubbling cauldron of jumbled emotions I felt due to my inability to fix the situation was fueled by sadness at not being able to make things better in cases with much higher stakes.

This time two years ago, my dear little mom was in constant pain from what we eventually learned was sciatica. Try as I might, I couldn’t get her the help she needed to alleviate the pain. She fell and broke her hip just hours before the appointment with the pain specialist and went to the hospital instead. The pain she endured for the final ten days of her life was well beyond my capability to heal, as were the fragility of her mind and emotions after surgery to repair her hip.

All I could do was pray, reassure, and sometimes sing as I tried to comfort her.

Likewise, I can’t restore the parts of my 92-year-old father’s mind that a stroke stole from him 17 months ago. He can’t keep the days of the week or time of day straight, and his facility for working crossword puzzles and devouring multi-hundred-page books are a thing of the past. I oversee his care and finances, and as one of his nurses says, I ensure he’s safe and loved.

Oh, how I wish I could do more, but I’m a finite being with finite abilities.

The One Who Can

I don’t like to see suffering or harm in any realm, much less when it comes to my beloved family and friends. I want to fix it, to make it all better. I expect all of God’s children feel that way to some extent. As we traverse this world marred by sin, knowing things aren’t the way God intended them to be, we long for things to be set right.

The bad news is we can’t fix it. But the very best news is that God can and will make it all better. Jesus defeated sin and death by taking our sins upon Himself, paying the debt we owed, and covering us with His righteousness. He is seated at the right hand of God, sovereign over all things and constraining evil (Hebrews 1:1-3). One day Jesus will return and restore harmony. When He does, nothing will kill or destroy on all His holy mountain (Isaiah 11:9). There will be no more pain, no broken hips or debilitating strokes, and no more tears of sorrow and frustration.

Until then, may we strive to care for those God has entrusted to us, remembering He is God and we are not. Everything belongs to Him, even those we most cherish, and we must trust Him for the outcomes.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for stepping over the line, forgetting my place, and trying to “help” You take care of everything. Please give me a clear understanding of my part, trusting You to work all things together for good in full assurance that Jesus’ return will usher in eternity full of peace and joy in Your presence.

The Badges

/ Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
Colossians 3:17

Abundant Awards

My granddaughters belong to an American Heritage Girls troop at our church. They engage in fun activities while learning life skills grounded in Christian values. In the process, they have an opportunity to earn badges. Lyla, age 9, has been doing so for the past three years, but Emma, who just turned 7, became eligible to earn badges last fall.

Once the meetings resumed last August after a summer break, Lyla and Emma dedicated themselves to completing the requirements for various badges and patches. Between the two of them, they brought home 28 after the December awards night. I’m super proud of them, but my fingers cringed at the thought of stitching so many onto their vests.

When Lyla earned her first few badges, she said some of her friends glued theirs on. I was skeptical but tried doing the same with one of hers. I doubted the longevity of such an application, plus the glue soaked through the fabric and didn’t look good on the inside of the vest. For a longtime seamstress like me, that wasn’t going to be satisfactory.

Thus I determined to sew them on instead. Imagine fingers achy from age and years of gardening, handicrafts, typing, and texting, confronted with badges edged with dense stitching. It was so hard to get the needle through those edges; however, I persevered through Lyla’s first batch and subsequent batches.

But I’d never had anywhere near 28 at one time.

A Grand Plan

Fortunately, there was a break of almost a month between Awards Night and the first meeting of the new year. If I planned well, I’d have plenty of days to sew one or two on at a time and still have all the badges stitched on by that first meeting.

So much for my grand plan! I turned my attention to Christmas and birthday celebrations. A week before meetings resumed, barely any badges had made their way out of the bags they arrived in and onto my granddaughters’ vests.

Plan B

Never fear! My late husband’s alma mater, South Dakota State University, qualified for the FCS football championship game. I relished the opportunity to watch the Jackrabbits play and would have at least three hours to work on badges while I cheered them on.

Ah, one badge securely stitched onto Emma’s vest, and the Jacks were ahead in the game. Uh oh! A closer look revealed something wasn’t quite right. I’d started with the swimming badge but sewed it on upside down. The swimmer looked like she was doing the backstroke instead of freestyle. For the briefest moment, I thought about leaving it. Emma has quite a sense of humor, plus I had so many badges left, and the tips of my fingers were already starting to complain.

But then one of Mom’s mottos[1] pierced my thoughts: “Anything worth doing is worth doing right.”

I snipped the stitches, turned the badge right side up, and reattached it to the vest. I stitched on the one next to it, then another, and laid the vest flat to check my progress. Nooooo!! The badges weren’t aligned with the edge of the vest. That would never do since they were setting the foundation for the rest of the badges on that side. Off they came again.

With all the re-dos, only two badges made it onto Emma’s vest that afternoon – but at least they were positioned correctly!

Spiritual Stitches

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you’ve no doubt noticed that I’m a ponderer, so it probably won’t surprise you that contemplating the events of that trying experience brought several Biblical principles to my mind:

  • Like most of Mom’s mottos, the one I referenced above has a scriptural tie-in. Colossians 3:17 (the introductory verse for this post), as well as 1 Corinthians 10:31 and Colossians 3:23, encourage us to do our best no matter the task before us as a way to honor God.
  • And those slanted badges? They reminded me not only of Jesus’ teaching on the importance of a firm faith foundation (Matthew 7:24-27) but also that He is our Cornerstone, precious and chosen, joining together the household of God (1 Peter 2:6; Ephesians 2:20-21).
  • Watching the football game while I worked was fun, but it was also distracting and probably contributed to my mistakes. Likewise, many things can distract us from walking single-mindedly with the Lord. Numerous passages remind us to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus and follow His example of perseverance. Philippians 3:12-14 and Hebrews 12:1-2 are two of my favorites.
  • The badges represent the troop leaders’ diligence in teaching and mentoring the troop members and the girls’ efforts to master new skills and serve their communities. Similarly, the working of the Spirit in our lives produces fruit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control – outward manifestations of our life in Christ (Galatians 5:22-23).

Epilog

In case you’re wondering, South Dakota State, more focused on their task than I was on mine that Sunday afternoon,  won the championship game. I spent countless hours in the week leading up to the first AHG meeting of the year sewing on badges. My fingers paid the price for my procrastination, but Lyla and Emma’s vests were adorned with the awards they’d worked so hard to earn. And I can even laugh now about the “backstroke badge” since it gave me some fun reminders of spiritual principles to pass along. I hope they’ll make you smile too.

[1] If you would like to read more of Mom’s mottos, please see “Thanks, Mom! (Reprise)” in Archives, November 2022.

The Land of the Living

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

I would have despaired had I not believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for and confidently expect the Lord. Be strong and let your heart take courage. Yes, wait for and confidently expect the Lord.
Psalm 27:13-14 Amplified Bible

Flash Freeze

The week before Christmas found us experiencing normal temperatures here in metro Atlanta – highs in the mid-50s, lows in the upper-30s – but that changed abruptly on December 23rd. Temperatures plummeted overnight from a high of 52 to a low of 19, dropping even further to a frigid 8 degrees the next day. Daytime highs returned to above freezing on the third day, but nighttime lows remained well below freezing as we experienced one of the coldest Christmases on record.

The lingering lows, accompanied by blustery, bone-chilling winds wreaked havoc on the plants, most of which hadn’t gone dormant yet due to our moderate weather. I compared notes with fellow gardening enthusiasts. Most of our annuals were a total loss. The arctic blast burned the foliage of the cheerful violas and pansies, staples of our winter gardens, while the ornamental kale was nothing more than mush when it thawed out.

 One friend, a longtime Master Gardener, shared a video that addressed our “what now?” questions. The speaker used the term “flash freeze” to describe what happened to the plants when the temperature dropped precipitously. The water in their cells froze instantly. When the temperatures rose above freezing, some of the cells burst, no longer able to contain the water required for life.

Despite this grim description, the speaker affirmed what my gardening friends and I had been encouraging ourselves with: it was too soon to judge how the perennials, shrubs, and trees had fared. Given our cumulative experience, we were hopeful more plant friends would survive than wouldn’t.

Only time would tell.

Sudden Loss

After watching the video and contemplating what my garden might look like come spring, I pondered how sudden loss is akin to a flash freeze. Even though nearly 26 years have passed since my husband’s sudden death, I distinctly remember driving to work a few days before his passing. Stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green, I was soaking up the beauty of the day. I thanked God for the warm weather and springtime blossoms and that things were going smoothly for my little family.

Less than a week later, I received the life-changing news that my 39-year-old husband had not survived a heart attack that felled him while he was at work. My 7- and 10-year-old daughters heard the nurse’s somber pronouncement at the same time I did. In a moment, life as we knew it stopped.

Days passed. My daughters went back to school, and I returned to work as we tried to recreate some semblance of normalcy. But many nights, tears flowed from one, two, or all three of us. Even though I clung to my faith, knowing I would experience joy when God called me Home, I wondered if I would ever experience joy again in this life.

One evening, that question was running through my mind yet again when I sat down with my Bible. The reading schedule brought me to Psalm 27, where I found encouragement in the introductory passage above. The Lord used it to assure me I could wait with confidence, counting on His goodness. I trusted that joy would indeed return in this life, even though I wasn’t sure what it would look like or how long it would take.

Only time would tell.

Joy for Mourning

Ray had a horticulture degree and was an accomplished gardener whose legacy includes the plants he chose for our yard. In those early days of loss, I could never have imagined what a tremendous role those plants would play in restoring my joy.

In a journal entry dated 3-1-98, I recorded the following: I spent the whole afternoon outside yesterday, cleaning up the front beds and going through the many pots Ray kept. It was a bittersweet experience. I couldn’t believe all the little plants that are coming back to life. I cried several times as I dug, raked, clipped, and discovered new growth. The beauty and hope are there. I just miss having Ray to share it with. Several times I stopped and said a silent thank you to him for planting so many beautiful things and to God for sustaining it all.

That, my friends, was the first of countless sessions of what I refer to as “garden therapy.” Seeing the tiny shoots popping up through the leaf litter gave me great hope. If they could survive their cold, dark winter, then maybe I could survive my season of loss.

Sustained by God’s grace and His steadfast love, I’ve done more than survive. I’ve flourished – and so has the garden He’s entrusted to my care. It nourishes me spiritually as I see scriptural principles come to life and provides a tangible connection to Ray until we’re reunited.

You might be wondering how my plants are doing now, two months after the deep freeze. There are some indications that a few didn’t make it, just as there were some things in my life that didn’t survive Ray’s passing. However, I’m pleased to report that the plants are exhibiting the same perseverance I observed 25 years ago. Signs of life are popping out everywhere, and, just as my fellow plant lovers and I expected, far more of our leafy friends survived than didn’t.

Life in this world is challenging. As pilgrims on our way Home, we can be buffeted by all sorts of ill winds. Yet there is joy in the journey because our joy rests in a Person. Jesus, the One Who came to give us abundant life now and eternal life in His presence, is also the One Who’s promised never to leave or forsake us. He will give us strength for the journey and see us safely Home.

Dear Lord, thank You for lovingly sustaining all You’ve made, from the plants and animals to Your beloved children created in Your image. Though this world bears the effects of sin, You’ve filled it with examples of Your great love and care for us. Please help us to have eyes to see those gifts even as we long for Your return.