Loss

In a moment

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

“In a moment things can change. One look behind and it’s never the same.” These words from the song “All Kinds of People” by Susan Ashton are simple yet profound. I’ve had moments in my life that were truly life-changing; moments that caused me to quote the lyrics from this song; moments like the one seventeen years ago when I was told my husband was no longer alive . . .

It was April 19, 1997. We were having an early spring and the warmer-than-usual weather had my young daughters, Mary, 10, and Jessie, 7, clamoring for new swim suits. Even though I knew we’d  likely  have another cold snap or two before the warm weather settled in for good, I agreed to take them shopping. My husband, Ray, department head of inside gardening at a local Home Depot store, was scheduled to work from 1pm to 10pm so, after we finished lunch, we headed off to the mall. Several hours later, having acquired the swim suits (and most likely some other new clothes), stopping for dinner and picking up bread and milk, we were on our way back home. Picking up bread and milk may seem like a terribly trivial thing to remember after so many years, but Ray would often stop on his way home from work to pick up any essentials we were lacking. He took good care of his girls – all three of us – so I was looking forward to surprising him with the news he could come straight home that night.

Strong thunderstorms moved into the area as we made our way home.  When we arrived we went directly upstairs to watch the “Local on the 8’s” on the Weather Channel to make sure no tornados were headed our way. Our focus on the weather resulted in us bypassing the answering machine which held multiple messages from someone named Chris from Kennestone Hospital. We hadn’t been home five minutes when the phone rang. It was Chris, calling again from the emergency room to tell me Ray had been taken there from work and asking if I had anyone who could bring me to the hospital. I assured her I could drive myself and asked what was wrong. She wouldn’t give me any details, just asked me to get there as soon as possible.  It wasn’t until I was half-way there that I realized her asking if someone could bring me probably wasn’t a good sign. I prayed all the way to the hospital, fervently hoping Ray wasn’t dead and attempting to console Mary and Jessie who were trying to be brave, but were terribly concerned about their much-loved father.

When we reached the hospital, Chris, the patient care specialist, met us in the emergency area and led us to a private room. As we walked down the corridor, she calmly asked me questions: Did Ray have a history of heart problems?; Was he on any medications?; Was he under a doctor’s care? Her composure and questions renewed my hope that Ray was, indeed, alive. When we got to the room, she told me the doctor would be in to talk to me. I asked tentatively, “Can’t you at least tell me if he’s alive?” She paused, oh so briefly, before saying, “I’m sorry, honey, he isn’t.” A massive heart attack had felled my life partner a little over two months after his 39th birthday. And with that, my life changed forever. I cried out, “God, no!” and sank to the sofa as Mary and Jessie dissolved into tears of their own, all of us incredulous. Hadn’t we seen our beloved husband and father a few short hours before, alive and well? He just went to work. How could it be he’d never return to us?

Then, just as suddenly, it was as if a giant door slammed shut. I couldn’t take the news in all at once or it would have crushed me. Instead the truth gradually penetrated my soul, drop by drop, over a period of weeks and months as I was able to accept it.

Yet somehow I had to deal with the unwanted reality that had been thrust upon me. There were immediate needs to be tended to: phone calls to family members and our pastor, decisions regarding the visitation and funeral services, picking a final resting place. Details of that week are burned into my memory: being surrounded by family and friends; being upheld by prayers so ardent they were tangible; speaking at Ray’s funeral; saying a final goodbye to him in a little cemetery in North Carolina.

It was a time of great sorrow, yet I felt the love and concern of so many who comforted and helped out in very practical ways. Some provided lodging for out-of-town relatives; others prepared and served lunch after the funeral. Our children’s minister took Mary and Jessie to Wednesday night activities at church so they could have a bit of normalcy amidst the upheaval. Then there was the friend who arrived the day after Ray’s death and quietly asked if I’d contacted a funeral home yet. When I, still in a mild state of shock, replied “No”, he spent the next couple of hours calling funeral homes for me and gathering necessary information.

Through the turmoil, grief, and tears, God was my refuge and strength.  He was my ever present help that week and has remained so to this day. I’ve said many times since Ray’s all-too-soon-for-me death,  had there been a sign-up sheet at church with the heading “Get to Know God Better by Losing Your Husband”, I never would have put my name on the list, but God, in His providence, saw fit to do so. I can testify to the fact He’s been a defender of this widow and a Father to my fatherless girls, faithfully providing and protecting, all the years we’ve been without our earthly husband and father.

There have been other life-changing moments since, one fairly recent, though none has been as devastating as the one when I learned of Ray’s death.  Each time I’ve gone back to the garden for solace. I know I’ll find my loving Father there, for He’s promised to never leave me or forsake me.

Working all things together for good

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

This is one of my go-to verses, one I turn to repeatedly for reassurance. Having made my profession of faith almost 40 years ago, I have plenty of life experiences that confirm the veracity of this verse. Even when things are bleak, even when I don’t understand, even when I can’t see how good could possibly come from a given situation or series of events, God is at work to accomplish what will be most glorifying to him and most beneficial to me. Following is one such example.

I was blessed to be continually employed by a large corporation for just over 30 years. I had an interesting and challenging job and a good salary and benefits package, critically important when I became the sole source of support for my daughters after my husband, Ray, died. As with anything in life, my job had its ups and downs over the years, but things took a downward turn the last year I worked and didn’t recover. I was assigned to a new manager. In a time when layoffs were happening on a regular basis and with two children of her own to support, I began to feel like she wanted to make sure she was the last woman standing. Bit by bit, my role was diminished. I was left out of meetings, told I could no longer travel to visit customers (some of whom I’d called on for almost 20 years), and wasn’t given meaningful work to do. I became increasingly frustrated. And I was ANGRY!

By the time the July 4th holiday approached, I’d been working for the new manager for almost seven months. As was often the case, I took the week of the 4th off. Attempting to regain some perspective, I spent most of my vacation reading my Bible, praying, journaling and working in my yard. Gradually, as the week passed, God reminded me He, not my manager, was in control. When I returned to work, the situation remained unchanged, but I tried to stay focused on the truth that God was indeed in control. I continued to pray for wisdom. Was God allowing things to become so miserable I’d leave or did He want me to remain and be a “life-giver” in a difficult environment, learning patience and humility along the way?

The answer came on January 26, 2011. My annual review was scheduled for that afternoon and things had gotten so bad I told my family I fully expected to be terminated or put on probation. I sat across the table from my manager and her boss as she said, “I know you’re expecting to have your review, but you won’t be having it because your job has been eliminated.” My first thought was, “This is really happening”, my second was, “Thank you, Lord, for giving me a black and white answer.” I turned in my badge, my computer, my keys. And just like that, a 30-year career was over. No retirement lunch. No goodbyes. No celebrations.

God had other plans. Over the years since Ray died,  as I cared for the beautiful garden he started, God was quietly, tenderly nurturing a new dream in me. A few months before my job was eliminated, I checked out the website of a local technical school while I sat in my cube eating lunch. When I read through the class descriptions for the horticulture program, my desire to take those courses was so strong I wrote on a sticky note: “My dream: Environmental Horticulture Diploma, Horticulturist Specialty”. I stuck it in the back of my planner, thinking it was unlikely, but treasuring my dream nonetheless. A mere two days after my job was eliminated I contacted the admissions office at Chattahoochee Tech and started the process of enrolling. I received my diploma eighteen months later.

Not only did God take the pain of losing my job and work it for good, He did far more than I could ask or imagine. Going back to school was an amazing, unexpected gift and having a more flexible schedule allowed me to spend time on a regular basis with my first grandchild, Joshua, who was born in July 2011. He became my study buddy from his earliest days. I delight in telling him about plants and, as he grows up, I look forward to telling him about his very special grandfather and God’s faithfulness to me and to our family.

My diploma with original sticky note attached.

My diploma with original sticky note attached.

Consider it pure joy

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.” James 1:2-3

It was February 1998 and I was feeling anything but joyful. Ten months before, my beloved husband, Ray, had died of a massive heart attack a few weeks after his 39th birthday. Even though I was a rational person and knew all-too-well the details of what happened, on some level I maintained a protective mantle of denial. I couldn’t accept or fathom how he could go to work one sunny spring Saturday and never return home to me and our two young daughters. But bit by bit the reality dripped into my soul, creating an underlying sadness that colored many of my days.

In preparing for Ray’s funeral, I wrote a letter to him which one of our pastors read during the service. Amongst other comments I stated he’d not only left a lasting legacy in the lives of our daughters, but also in the beauty of our garden. You see, Ray had a horticulture degree and he planted many interesting things in our yard. He would tell me about the special plants he selected and teach me their names. Although he didn’t eschew better-known plants like pansies and daffodils, he was interested in having unique items as well. When several of his horticulture colleagues paid a visit and walked the garden with me after Ray died, oohing and ahhing over a number of specimens, I took note all over again how special that part of his legacy was. I also recognized how important it was for me to try to learn how to take care of it, otherwise it would only be a matter of time before it was gone.

And so that February day found me outside preparing to remove the blanket of leaves that still enshrouded the planting beds, with an aching in my heart as I longed for Ray and wished he was there to remove those leaves. As I started clearing the beds, I noticed a number of the perennials Ray planted were beginning to emerge from the soil. Seeing those plants and knowing they had persevered through the cold, dark winter gave me a glimmer of hope. If they could make it through that stark season, maybe I could survive my season of darkness.

Little did I know, gardening would become my passion and would provide many moments of hope and healing as well as a very real connection to Ray. Not only has God faithfully provided for me and my family since Ray’s death, He has ministered to me over and over again through the beauty of his creation. While “playing in the dirt”, I’ve been reminded of his promises, seen tangible examples of Scriptural principles and found solace for my soul.

This blog is born of a desire to share some of what I’ve learned spiritually and horticulturally. I hope you’ll come back to the garden with me.

 

One of several varieties of daffodils Ray planted and the earliest to bloom. They come back year after year, a cheerful reminder of him!

One of several varieties of daffodils Ray planted and the earliest to bloom. They come back year after year, a cheerful reminder of him!