God’s faithfulness

The Sad Relief

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

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

Holiday Blues

For most of my life, I looked forward to the final six weeks of the year, full of holiday cheer, beginning with Mom’s November birthday, followed by Thanksgiving, my mid-December birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s, with long-standing traditions associated with each. Granddaughter Lyla arrived the day after my birthday in 2013, multiplying the joy by becoming my birthday buddy.

But several years ago, my anticipation of the end-of-the-year celebrations began to wane as Mom’s health declined, and she couldn’t fully enjoy the season as she had in the past. Then 2020 rolled around, and, like many other families, COVID-19 derailed our Christmas traditions.

Little did we know it would be our last Christmas with Mom.

December 2021 found me going through the motions. Not only was it my first Christmas without my beloved mother, but my strong father had suffered a stroke six months after her passing. Though the physical effects were minor, the stroke impacted Dad’s cognitive abilities, leaving him incapable of handling his finances or medications, making it impossible to live on his own. Though we found a live-in caregiver for him, Dad grew tired of having someone in his space all the time. Thus, December found us looking at assisted living options, planning to move him in January.

I was equally despondent as the holidays approached in 2022. If it had been possible to fast forward to mid-January 2023, I would have done so. Dad contracted Covid at the end of October. His health was so fragile I thought it likely I would be planning a funeral before the end of the year. But he rallied and was able to celebrate Christmas, New Year’s, and his 92nd birthday before suffering another stroke in May of 2023 and gradually declining until passing away peacefully on July 12.

Grieving with Hope

After four years, holiday joy finally returned to my heart last December. That may sound strange considering it was my first without either of my parents. I’ve pondered that myself and have frequently returned to a phrase one of my friends used when she replied to my text informing her of Dad’s passing:  “I’m so sorry. Now begins the sad relief.”

The sad relief – an apt description of the blend of sorrow and joy known to Christians because we’re able to grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). Though I miss Mom and Dad, there’s great comfort in knowing they’re together in the presence of Jesus, far beyond the reach of earthly pain and distress.

After three years of intense caregiving, first for Mom and then Dad, another type of relief joined that of knowing they’re better than they’ve ever been – the relief from stress related to not knowing what any given day would bring, having to make so many difficult decisions, and, as an only child, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility. Only now, after several months of no longer experiencing the daily tension, do  I realize the load I carried, one always tinged with guilt and doubt. Was I making the right decisions? Should I be doing more? Ultimately, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I was helpless to stop the relentless march of aging or prevent the inevitable conclusion.

Faithful God

But looking back, I also have a much clearer view of how God went before us every step of the way.

Mom’s agony was intense but relatively brief. God directed and redirected throughout the ten-day interval between the moment she fell and broke her hip and the one in which she drew her final breath. We intended to bring her home and endeavored to do so, but the Lord had plans to call her Home.

Though the stroke Dad experienced six months after Mom died wasn’t as catastrophic as her broken hip, it initiated a decline that lasted 18 months before he joined her in Glory. When he came home from the hospital, we secured a male, live-in Christian caregiver for him. I’ve got to believe that’s a rare combination of traits! When Dad grew tired of that arrangement, we found a cozy apartment in a lovely assisted living community two miles from my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren.

Then came the day when Dad’s primary care physician recommended we transition to palliative care. The assumption underlying her suggestion wasn’t lost on me. We were running out of options to make Dad “well.” It was time to focus on making him comfortable instead. And, when we needed to take the next step and enlist hospice care, who would turn out to be his primary nurses but two women who’d overseen his care after his seizure some months before. In the interim, they’d started working for the hospice provider. Coincidence? I think not!

There are other examples of God’s provision and presence during Dad’s final months, but I’ll let these suffice.

Never Alone

There were times when I felt so alone in my seat on the emotional roller coaster associated with Dad’s ever-changing status, from declines to rallies and back again. Yet I was never alone. The One who promised never to leave or forsake me was there for every up and down, every daunting diagnosis and surprising recovery, not only knowing but also ordaining the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10).

The sadness of no longer having Mom and Dad to share things with, celebrate with, or reminisce with will stay with me for the rest of my life. But there’s the joy of cherishing memories of times past, carrying on favorite family traditions with my grandchildren, and mentioning Mama and Papop often so the youngest generation doesn’t forget their great-grandparents.

Ultimately, the greatest joy comes from the realization that God accomplished what I could not – relieve their pain and suffering – and He did it for eternity.

Epilog

Several days ago, I opened my journaling Bible to a section of Psalms I hadn’t read for a while, at least not in that particular Bible. I did a double-take when I saw what I’d written next to Psalm 40:17 two days before Mom broke her hip: “My prayer for Mom tonight, Lord. Please don’t delay in helping her or delivering her from the pain she’s been experiencing.” At the very moment I was writing that prayer, He had already determined how He would answer. Twelve days later, the Lord delivered Mom entirely and eternally from her pain.

Watching Mom and Dad decline gave me a glimpse of what my future might look like as I continue my journey Home. It also provided ample evidence of God’s faithfulness. It saddens me to think of possibly losing the capability to care for myself, yet there is relief in knowing God’s grace will be sufficient for my caregivers and me, just as it was for Mom and Dad and theirs – all the way to the end (2 Corinthians 12:9; Hebrews 10:23).  

New Year’s Resolution

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17

Making New Year’s resolutions is a tradition for many of us. Something about opening up a new planner full of blank pages waiting to be filled in or turning the calendar to January 1 inspires us to make changes in ourselves. Sadly, despite our best intentions, breaking those resolutions is about as common as making them in the first place.

But what if we were to resolve to do something that we knew for sure we’d accomplish? There is something, but we can’t do it on our own.

When we endeavor to become more like Christ, we can be certain of accomplishing our goal because it’s God’s will for us, and the process is all of Him. Reflect on these assurances:

  • God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him (Ephesians 1:4).
  • Those (God) foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son so that he might be the firstborn among many brothers (Romans 8:29).
  • We are being transformed into his image from one degree of glory to another (2 Corinthians 3:18) by the power at work within us, the same power that rose Jesus from the grave (Ephesians 1:19-20).
  • For it is [not your strength, but it is] God who is effectively at work in you, both to will and to work [that is, strengthening, energizing, and creating in you the longing and the ability to fulfill your purpose] for His good pleasure (Philippians 2:13, AMP).
  • Ask anything according to His will, and He’ll do it for us (1 John 5:14-15).

Isn’t that encouraging?

When we think of resolution, most of us think of the primary definition: a firm decision to do or not to do something.

But if you keep reading through the list of definitions, you’ll come to this one: the degree of detail visible in a photographic or television image. That description reminds me of a statement made by my spiritual mother, Susan Hunt, “We become what we behold.” The more we look into God’s word – living, active, sharper than a two-edged sword –  the more precise our picture of His character, His promises, and His will for our lives becomes (Hebrews 4:12).

Let’s consider again the initial verse from 2 Corinthians 5, continuing to the end of the chapter: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (1 Corinthians 5:17-21).

Our pastor often reminds us that we are Christ’s ambassadors as we live in the now-and-not-yet, in between Jesus’ first coming, when He ushered in God’s new kingdom, and His second, when that kingdom will be fully consummated. We’re already counted righteous in Christ, seated in the heavenly places with Him (Ephesians 2:5-7), but we still struggle with sin (Romans 7:19-20). However, given our new nature and our new citizenship, we’re to embrace, embody, and extend to others the goodness and grace we’ve experienced because of God’s work in our lives, being salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16).

Later this year, I’ll celebrate the 50th anniversary of my baptism and public profession of faith. In those five decades, the Spirit has done a mighty work – chiseling, sanding, polishing – making me more into the image of Jesus. I’m not the same person I was then, and by His grace, I won’t be the same person I am now when I turn the calendar to January 2025. The same can be said for all God’s children, be they baby saints just beginning their journey with Him or seasoned saints drawing ever closer to Home.

Our transformation won’t be complete until Jesus returns, but we can be confident that He who began a good work in us will see it through to completion (Philippians 1:6). Then, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, we will be changed (1 Corinthians 15:52-53)!

For now, may we heed  God’s charge and resolve to be kingdom representatives, endeavoring to live up to what we’re already counted to be in Christ, knowing we’re not laboring alone or in our own strength.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Another Anniversary

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Give ear, O my people, to my teaching; incline your ears to the words of my mouth! I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings from of old, things that we have heard and known, that our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might, and the wonders that he has done.
Psalm 78:1-4

Life-changing Moments

There have been a number of life-changing events in my six decades of living. Some were happily anticipated, like my wedding day and the days my daughters and grandchildren were born. Others caught me by surprise and not in a pleasant way.

Two events in the latter category cleaved my life into before and after segments so that what followed wasn’t just a new chapter but a whole new volume in my life story. Each year when the anniversaries of those events come around, I intentionally look back at what’s happened since, remembering all God has done.

My reflections remind me that His ways are not my ways (Isaiah 55:8-9) and that He is able to do far more than I ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20).

Telling and Retelling the Story

Sometimes I wonder if I should keep discussing these events or writing about them. Maybe others are tired of the repetition. Then I remember Elisabeth Elliot talking about how many times she told the story of losing her husband, Jim, and four friends in the jungles of Ecuador. Yet that was the story entrusted to her, and she faithfully told and retold it, always wrapped in a message of God’s sovereignty and providential care.

Author and friend Sharon Betters refers to such stories as our credentials, i.e., the very things that allow us to speak credibly into the lives of others because of God’s faithfulness to us in hard times. Scripture itself instructs us to comfort others with the same comfort we’ve received from God (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).

Twelve Years

The anniversary of one of the life-cleaving events occurred several days ago. January 26 marked 12 years since my 30-year career came to an inauspicious conclusion in a windowless conference room. My manager filed in with her manager in tow. Not a good sign. My heart rate increased as she calmly pronounced the death sentence on my career.

“I know you’re expecting to have your annual review, but you won’t be having it because your job has been eliminated.”

Thus ended the saga that had begun the previous year when she became my manager. In the intervening weeks, she systematically removed most of my responsibilities, excluded me from meetings, and barred me from customer visits. Things became so stressful I wondered if God wanted me to stay or leave. I asked friends to pray for clear direction and wisdom to know what to do.

As the day of my review approached, I became increasingly convinced I’d be fired or put on probation. Even so, hearing my manager’s words stunned me. My first thought? “This is real.” My second? “Thank You, Lord, for giving me a definite answer.”

A Fateful End

The HR Director came in as my manager and her boss departed. She described the severance package and legal details surrounding the abrupt end of my job. She also instructed me to turn in my badge, company credit card, and computer and leave without saying goodbye to anyone.

I followed her directions, each step feeling surreal. I exited the building, entered the misty chill of the gray winter afternoon, and walked to my parking spot one last time.

The following morning, I awoke to brilliant sunshine streaming in my window. Though I still couldn’t fully grasp my new status – unemployed after working over 30 years for the same company – I clung to my belief in God’s goodness and His sovereignty. I posted on Facebook, “30+ years of continuous employment came to a halt yesterday when my job was eliminated. God obviously has something else for me to do. I can’t wait to see what it is!”

A New Beginning

Even so, I couldn’t imagine the gift God had planned for me. Two days after I was let go, I contacted the local technical college and began the process of returning to school to study horticulture. Six months later, my first grandchild, Joshua, was born. Eighteen months after that, he and his mother (my daughter Mary) and great-grandmother (my mom) were at my graduation. They watched me realize my dream of receiving an Environmental Horticulture diploma.

In the years since graduation day, my granddaughters were born. I’ve had the joy of spending time with them and Joshua on a regular basis since their earliest days, something I wouldn’t have been able to do if I’d been working full-time.

The intervening years have held some hard times too. Mom’s health declined as she progressed through her 80s, and then she passed away several months shy of her 90th birthday. Six months after her passing, Dad experienced a stroke.

Being happily retired[1] has allowed me the flexibility to help my family members, both young and old, pursue my passion for horticulture, become involved in women’s ministry at my church, and develop my writing skills. Though some may have meant evil against me, God surely meant the job elimination for good (Genesis 50:20).

Telling of His Glorious Deeds

We’re in good company when we retell our stories. The Israelites repeatedly told the story of God’s deliverance. In fact, God commanded them to tell the story to future generations so they would know the glorious deeds of the Lord (Psalm 78).

And what story did they tell? The story of God’s rescue, how He brought them out of slavery in Egypt by sending plagues,  sparing the firstborn sons of families whose houses had lambs’ blood on the door frames, and drowning Pharoah’s army in the Red Sea after the Israelites passed over on dry ground. He gave His chosen people laws to live by and provided for them as they wandered the desert for 40 years. Disobedience brought about consequences, yet throughout the Israelites’ history, God faithfully preserved a people for Himself, even grafting pagans and Gentiles into His family.

Our Common Story

No matter the details of our individual stories, believers share the story of God’s rescue. We weren’t enslaved to a human task master but, dead in our trespasses, we were enslaved by sin, in desperate need of a Savior (Ephesians 2:1-3). God sent His Son, the spotless Lamb, whose blood made it possible for God’s wrath to pass over us as it did the night He rescued His people from Egypt. Unlike the Passover lambs and subsequent sacrifices performed year after year, Jesus’ sacrifice was sufficient for all time (1 Peter 1:18-19).  

So, dear readers, let’s continue to tell our unique stories of God’s goodness and faithfulness as we seek to encourage others in similar circumstances. But even more, may we recognize that our little stories are part of God’s great big story of redemption and point others to the hope we have in Jesus, the One in whom all God’s promises are yes and amen (2 Corinthians 1:20).

Dear Lord, thank You for loving us so much that You sent Your beloved Son to save us from our sins and make us alive in Him. Our lives have meaning because You chose us to be your treasured possession. May we honor You by giving You the glory in all of our stories.

[1] One day after I graduated, I was at my Mary and son-in-law Justin’s house. I commented, “I guess I’m unemployed.” Justin quickly replied, “No! You’re happily retired!” I’ve gone with that ever since. 😊

A Light to My Path

/ Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.
Psalm 119:105

Annual Tradition

For as long as I can remember, I’ve set aside time in early January to reflect on the previous year’s events. I bet you won’t be surprised to learn I’ve recorded those reflections in numerous journal entries that now span decades.

Last week when I sat down to capture some thoughts about 2022, I found my mind turning not to the past twelve months but to January 2020 and all that’s happened since those pre-pandemic days. None of us could have imagined the changes Covid-19 would bring with it, which occurred so quickly that life as we knew it came to an abrupt halt and hasn’t returned.

But there were personal cataclysms too, as Mom passed away and Dad had a stroke and moved into assisted living, culminating in the sale of the home they’d shared for nearly 25 years, the site of frequent family gatherings. Then there was the upheaval that befell my grandson, sending shock waves through our close-knit clan.[1]

So much loss. So many changes.

But God

As my mind replayed scenes from the past three years, I thought about how thankful I was not to have known what awaited me as I stood at the beginning of 2020. Taken altogether, the events may have caused me to despair. Instead, viewing them with 20/20 hindsight confirmed what years of intentional reflections have taught me – God’s grace is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9), and His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). Just like the manna that appeared each day in the wilderness, God provided what I needed to face each challenge as it came.

Indeed, for every hardship I recorded, it was equally evident how God had faithfully prepared the way before me. I added those recollections to my burgeoning catalog of examples of God’s goodness, the one I refer to when I need to be reminded that He’s never forsaken me, and He never will (Deuteronomy 31:8).

One Step at a Time                 

Perhaps like me, you’ll read a passage of Scripture, one you’ve read numerous times in the past, only to have it speak to you in a new way. Such was the case last year when I was preparing a women’s Bible study lesson on God’s Word. Psalm 119:105 (see above) is a familiar verse. In fact, when it dances through my mind, it’s usually accompanied by the music of Amy Grant’s tune, Thy Word.[2]

Yet, I had an ah-ha moment while working on the lesson. It occurred to me that footlights don’t illuminate a large area. Think about the emergency lights on airplanes that lead you to exits if the cabin lights go out or the lights installed near the floor in theaters that yield just enough light for you to navigate the stairs when the house lights are dimmed.

That’s the way God’s Word is. It doesn’t lay out every step on our journey, but it gives us the light we need to take the next step, trusting in the Light, knowing that He not only knows every twist and turn in our path but also has intentionally and lovingly prepared the way for us.

Take Note

I recently began reading Seasons of Sorrow. In the prologue, author Tim Challies wrote, “I have often said that I don’t know what I think or what I believe until I write about it. Writing is how I reflect, how I meditate, how I chart life’s every journey.”[3] His statement resonates with me. I’ve journaled since I was a teen, and many of my entries follow the trajectory of the Psalms of lament, beginning with a troubling scenario, winding through anxious thoughts, then settling on all I know to be true about God and His care.

I’m not naïve enough to think everyone processes life that way. I know some of you may loathe writing, but I want to encourage you to at least jot down examples of how you see the Lord working in your life this year, maybe in a gratitude journal or simply on a calendar. As time passes, it’s relatively easy to recall momentous events where we’ve seen God at work, but not as easy to remember the small ones.

Yet it’s in those daily details that we see how intimate and personal our relationship with our Father truly is. For the One who set the stars in place and causes the sun to rise and set, who appointed the seasons and the boundaries for the mighty oceans, also knows each of His children by name and oversees their coming and going (Psalm 139:1-6).

Eternal Light

As we stand at the beginning of this new year, it’s natural to wonder what it holds, to make plans, and maybe even pen a resolution or two. Like years past, it will undoubtedly encompass a mix of joys and sorrows. Some will catch us by surprise, while we eagerly anticipate others.

Even though we can’t see very far down the road, and we may face many changes, we belong to the One who never changes, who’s promised never to leave or forsake us. We can count on Him to go before us as He has in the past, leading us ever closer to Home, where there will be no need of lamplight or sunlight, for the Lord Himself will be our everlasting light (Revelation 22:5).

Dear Lord, thank You for the gift of Your Word, full of guidance and promises. Through it, we see that You are a good Father, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Please help us not to run ahead into the darkness but to recall all You’ve done for us in the past, knowing You will be faithful to accomplish Your purposes for us and complete the good work You’ve begun.

[1] Please see “A Grandmother’s Heart,” in Archives, October 2022.

[2] “Thy Word,” released 1990. Lyrics by Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith.

[3] Tim Challies, Seasons of Sorrow, the pain of loss and the comfort of God (Grand Rapids: Zondervan), xiv