heaven

Stairway to Heaven

July 26, 2018 by Nancy 16 Comments

I’ve climbed the beautiful, spiral staircase at the assisted living community where I volunteer many times without thinking of it as the stairway to heaven. But for some reason, today as I climbed from the first floor with its lovely entryway, library and dining room, to the second floor with the activity room where we have The Hope of Glory Bible study, that’s exactly what came to mind.

Maybe my long-term memory was activated by being in the presence of those older than I who cherish this intact part of their brains, and I was reminded of the prom theme we had my junior year in high school. Two by two couples lined up for the coveted prom photo. Girls in long satin dresses boasting wrist corsages leaned in to boys in brown suits sporting their father’s ties. Behind each couple was the backdrop the prom committee painted on butcher paper of a long spiral staircase. Glittery letters at the top read, “Stairway to Heaven.”

Of course, our idea of heaven in the Sixties was a really hot date and getting to stay out later than usual to go to the after parties, or the less sanctioned parties held on the banks of a Tennessee lake. Gratefully, it’s not this temporal, somewhat carnal, concept of heaven that I show up to talk about to the assisted living residents. Rather it’s the gospel truth that we won’t have to climb the 21 steps I counted today to get to heaven, or even take the optional elevator! It’s the message that there’s only one step needed, belief in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

Most of the residents at this facility, lovely as it is, are there because they need help of some kind—either due to physical impairment or loss of mental acuity. Although they don’t dwell on this fact, the blessed among them realize that their next destination is heaven. Together we explore how this late season of life in which they find themselves is still life, and that God has a purpose for them as long as they have breath. Then they will enjoy eternal life with Him!

It could be because I’ve been to two memorial services within a week that I’m reflecting on heaven now. Both were for women who lived long, full lives, leaving behind memories of stories told, quilts made, meals served, grandchildren cherished, and husbands adored. Hearing about their lives, and their strong Christian faith shared through generations, makes every remaining minute of my life seem more valuable to me somehow—more primed with possibility. They ran their races well, leaving me with a longing to make any time I have left count for something—especially for those things that are small in the eyes of the world, but large in the eyes of heaven.

In my book, Take My Hand Again, I talk about how hard it was to say goodbye to the assisted living residents I came to love through our time in Bible study, and today I was reminded that I’m still vulnerable to that kind of heartache. And I’m not alone. I just finished the engaging book A Dog Walks into a Nursing Home by Sue Halpern, who also grew fond of the residents she took her dog, Pransky, to visit each week. The author recalls standing at a distance at the graveside service of a friend and resident named Fran because she had the lovable labradoodle with her. She stood amazed as she saw all the people who gathered to honor the woman she and Pransky had only come to know and love in her last years. They had no idea how many lives Fran’s had touched, they only knew she had touched theirs.

Love hurts, but it’s always worth it. And there’s this stairway to heaven, where the loss and pain of aging is no more! There we will celebrate together all the love we’ve received, and all the love we’ve given away.

The Hope of Glory, A Devotional Guide for Older Adults, and Take My Hand Again, A Faith-based Guide for Helping Older Parents, are both available on Amazon.com.

The Seed Planter

February 28, 2018 by Nancy 37 Comments

I never met Billy Graham. I never attended one of his crusades, but I did see them on TV. So many notable people who knew him personally have written glowing tributes to “America’s Pastor” since he went to glory on Feb. 21, 2018. While my words won’t measure up to theirs, I feel compelled to add a few to the collection because the Lord whispered in my ear this week, “He impacted you too, you know.”

My parents took my sisters and me to church faithfully when I was growing up. I memorized the books of the Bible and was rewarded with a very fancy bookmark. Yet in all those years, no one really told me about the importance of having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. No one told me I would need to surrender my life in order to gain it. But I saw people doing that on TV, and the seed was planted.

As a little girl, I was amazed at the immensity of the crowds that came to hear this preacher with the strong voice and the familiar Southern accent. They filled rows and rows of huge stadiums. Not even the University of Tennessee football stadium, the biggest one I’d ever seen, would have been large enough to hold them all. I was moved to tears one night as I watched people of all ages and all colors leaving their seats to come down to the front where Billy Graham stood. The amazing hymn “Just As I Am” echoed up to every ear, and so they came. They came to accept God’s gift of salvation, and commit their lives to Christ.

Little did I know that when I dried my eyes and went to bed that night, a strong seed had been planted in the heart of this little Tennessee girl. With the seed came a message whispering, “there’s more.” It wasn’t until years later, when my life was derailed by the crisis of divorce, that I fell to my knees with tears streaming down my face and cried out to the Lord. “This is too hard,” I sobbed. “Everything is so messed up. I need for You to take over.” My life changed that day from one ending in death and destruction to one with the promise of eternity. And all because a seed was planted and took root. I knew there was more to a life of faith than what I had experienced because Billy Graham said so, and all those people leaving their seats agreed. Just as I was, I came.

Can you just imagine the conversation in heaven last week?
God: It’s time for Us to bring my servant Billy Graham home.
Angel: But why now? He’ll be 100 in a few months. Shouldn’t he stay for the party?
God: Now is the time because he has fought the good fight. He has finished his race. He’s too weak to deliver my message of salvation again himself, but once he comes to Us, those reporting his passing will proclaim it throughout the land once again! Throughout a land that needs the good news of the gospel message as salve for its wounds. We will bring him home now.

And so it was. With a grateful heart I praise God for raising up a man like Billy Graham in our generation. I didn’t meet him here, but I’ll meet him there. In the meantime, I believe I have some seeds to sow in his honor.

Pet Chronicles

August 29, 2016 by Nancy 20 Comments

How we love our pets. I don’t know if it was the expression on my face or the tears welling up in my eyes that tipped off the total stranger sitting in the waiting room with her dog. I just know that as I was leaving the vet’s office after dropping off my cat Beau for surgery, she leaped up to give me a hug, and soon I was crying on her shoulder sobbing, “It’s just so hard to leave him here.”

Beau had a gross looking sore on one of his hind feet. The vet wisely decided the best plan of action was to amputate his toe and send the whole mess to the lab for evaluation. The test came back positive for a low grade cancer, so taking the toe was the right decision and gives him a good chance at survival. Still, as I dropped him off that morning you would have thought I was the one having an amputation.

My concern for Beau started me thinking about all the pets I have loved in my lifetime. I remember each one so clearly because each one still occupies a place in my heart. You, too?

The first dog I can remember was a brown and white spotted, mid-sized mutt named Sally. She had the brightest brown eyes, the pinkest tongue, and the curliest tail you’ll ever see—and I loved her so much. Sally was just one more of the playmates my sisters and I had when we played hopscotch or jumped rope. She was always with us and always up for a romp. Over the years we also had a collie named Prince, a cocker named Prissy, and a cat named Cocomo. How I remember each one.

As a newlywed in the sixties my first “baby” was a miniature dachshund named Sebastian. This is the dog I dressed up in baby clothes while awaiting the birth of my first son because he weighed seven pounds and I thought I could practice on him! He’s also the dog that was so jealous once the baby came that he lifted his leg all around the bottom of the changing-table skirt I had painstakingly made. In so many ways Sebastian was just too smart to be a dog, but he was funny and affectionate and my heart still leaps whenever I see a mini-dachshund.

Two more dogs followed. Gorgeous light golden retrievers named Lady and Lad. Lad was Lady’s puppy. She gave birth to 11 puppies, but I was on the phone with the vet after 10 had been born and he told me to bring her in for a check-up. I called her and she obeyed, dropping puppy number eleven out on his head.

I have a feeling that was Lad, because as one vet said, “He’s about as bright as a billiard ball!” Lady was brighter, however, and both dogs were loyal and lovable. They were my jogging partners during a difficult time in my life. After Lady and Lad, I haven’t had the heart to get another dog. The holes they left just seem too large to fill.

Naively, I thought cats might be less of an emotional investment. Wrong. My son Tim convinced me to adopt a calico cat we named Callie. Next we adopted two kittens I named Kate and Allie after my favorite TV sitcom at the time. After a trip to the vet, we had to change Allie’s name to Al because she was a he! When Kate escaped one night and didn’t make it home, she was replaced by Betsy—a calico barn cat whose meow was stuck in her throat. We had Al and Betsy for 14 years and losing them was heartbreaking.

So it took almost a year before we adopted Molly, a sweet grayish cat we’ve had for 12 years now. I read an article that said a single cat might become depressed, so a few months later we adopted Beau. That’s when Molly really became depressed! Unlike Al and Betsy who curled up together daily, these two cats barely tolerate one another, but both are wonderful companions.

I think we grieve the loss of our pets so deeply when they go because they are so much a part of our daily lives. They need us, and we need them. In fact, I can’t imagine my life without a clever, comforting, entertaining cat in it. One adage reads, “Every life has nine cats.” Husband beware. It looks like I’m only up to seven. Two more to go to secure my crazy cat lady status!

I give myself permission to love my pets as I do because they, too, are God’s creatures given to us to care for and enjoy. Psalm 36:6 says, O Lord, you preserve both man and beast. Psalm 150:6 reads, Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Our pets have breath. Dare we believe they also have souls and will greet us in heaven? Theologians may disagree, but I’ll just wait and see. Meanwhile, I’ll just love on the two I have. Or do they have me?