Providence

She wanted to take her dad out to breakfast. Her kids, both teenagers, had the day off from school and wanted to go along. But you know teenagers. They had slept late that morning, and so breakfast was changed to lunch. Her dad decided to go to the nursing home first, and then meet them for lunch. And so he was with his wife when she took her last breath.

She told me this story, in the back seat of the car as we drove to the funeral home that afternoon. She was so glad that her dad had been there for her mom, one last time.

Emmy is my little daredevil. She wants to do everything Lily does, including jumping off of stairs, climbing ladders at the park, and climbing up onto the kitchen chairs. She wasn’t doing any of those things when she fell on the kitchen floor. Her footy pajamas had lost their rubbery soles after too many washings, and she just slipped. She started crying, and as I picked her up, I saw a small, white speck on her tongue. I fished it out, and discovered that she had chipped her front tooth. So I made an appointment with the dentist that afternoon.

The dentist just happens to be in the same suburb as our church, and so after her appointment, we stopped by to help plan the funeral. I was able to help pick out the hymns, and I think seeing the girls helped my husband, his sister and his dad.

But I’m still sad when I see Emmy’s chipped tooth! The chipped part doesn’t reach the nerve bundle, so the dentist said it should be all right. And it’s a baby tooth, so it will fall out, eventually.

That Wednesday, I was scheduled to bring an egg casserole to MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers). I had to go to the florist to help with the flowers for the funeral, so I didn’t go. But I had already bought all the ingredients for my casserole.

Ed called his dad, and invited him over for breakfast on Friday, the morning of the funeral. A man shouldn’t have to go to his wife’s funeral alone, I said. I made egg casserole so that we all had a nice, hot breakfast that morning.

People ask us how we’re doing, and I think we’re doing OK. I know we will have some difficult days ahead of us, but that’s OK. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

Book Nook: "Love Bade Me Welcome"

Ed tells me that it’s very strange, that as a pastor’s kid, I find it hard to talk about my faith. I was surrounded by faith growing up, and yet it’s hard for me to lead a prayer at a committee meeting at church. I should qualify this…I have trouble sharing my faith with adults. I’m also a Sunday school teacher, and telling Bible stories and praying with kids is a lot simpler.

Perhaps it’s because we’re Lutheran; Lutherans are not known for jumping around and shouting “Amen!” Maybe I’m afraid that I’ll say something that is theologically incorrect, and embarrass myself since I’m a pastor’s kid, after all.

I’m going to break out of my mold today, and share a poem that defines my faith. I was reminded of these words when I was writing about the importance of love in our lives yesterday.

When I was in college, I sang in various choirs. One choir I was fortunate to sing in went on tours during spring break. We sang at various churches and stayed with members of the church’s congregation. This song was one of my favorites; it is a poem set to music by Ralph Vaughan Williams. It is mostly a solo piece; I still remember the baritone that sang it. He was a graduate student, a little older than the rest of us, tall and thin with a bushy beard. I can still hear his voice filling the church during a concert:

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.

“A guest,” I answer’d, “worthy to be here”;
Love said, “You shall be he.”
“I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.”
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
“Who made the eyes but I?”

“Truth, Lord, but I have marr’d them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.”
“And know you not,” says Love, “who bore the blame?”
“My dear, then I will serve.”
“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”
So I did sit and eat.

George Herbert (1593-1633)

Written by an Anglican priest, Love refers to Christ, who serves us even though we do not deserve to be served at all. I attended our Ash Wednesday service last night, and the words spoke to me even more. Lent is the season of repentance and forgiveness, and with some of the jealous and judgmental thoughts I’ve been thinking lately, I definitely need forgiveness!

And so I’ll end this post with a simple prayer…Thank you, Lord, for your forgiveness. Amen