Dear Kristi . . .

My sister Kristi went to heaven twenty years ago today. She would have turned forty this past December 6. If I could talk to her, this is what I might begin to say to her.

Dear Kristi,

Wow! Twenty years ago today you went to heaven to be with Jesus. Sometimes it seems like time has flown past in a blur, but other times--when I think about all that has happened in twenty years, the others who have left us, the new people that have come into my life, the fact that I've very nearly raised two children to adulthod--it seems like I feel every second of that twenty years.

You know, of course, about Jon. I'm sure you're with him often--maybe even now. He probably told you about Katie and Jonathan. I'm so sorry that he didn't get to know them very long. I'm so sorry you didn't get to know them at all. Did he tell you what they were like when he had to leave them? Katie in so many ways reminds me of you--good and bad. She really doesn't look anything like you--except for her height--and Jon probably told you about her gorgeous red hair. We've often wondered if you asked God to send us a little redhead. And you know she's named after you--Kathleen Kristi Lynn. What else could I have named her?

She's stubborn like you, likes to talk, loves music, and definitely has her own sense of style--like you. She keeps her room a mess. She takes joy in little children--like you did. Mom says Katie was her "rainbow," her promise that there was still good in this life. It's a little crazy, but she does something else weird that you did--she doesn't wear socks in the winter. Everytime I see her all bundled up--coat, hat, and gloves--I look down at her feet, and she's not wearing any socks because "they don't look good with flats." And I immediately think of you. Even after twenty years, you're not far from the edges of my mind.

And Jonathan! You would have loved seeing him as a little boy. I look at pictures of  him from the past, and he was, without a doubt, the most beautiful little boy I've ever seen. It's hard to tell, at this point (he's sixteen), just who he is and what he will become, but he's smart--like Jon. He loves history and politics. He and Dad are best buddies--and always have been. They watch car races together, go to Taco Bell together (can you believe Dad eats at Taco Bell?), and Jonathan tells him the things he doesn't tell anyone else. It's been hard for him, all these years, having to live with two women, but he's starting to grow up, and I'm eager to see how God will use him and his abilities.

The years after Jon went to heaven were pretty hard. Here I was--early thirties, two little kids, and stuck in Michigan--away from my family. Mom and Dad were still reeling from losing you, and then Jon. They are my heroes, though. They moved up to Michigan, and they helped me raise the kids. We have quality parents. I taught school for awhile, had a brief stint working in a bookstore, went a couple of rounds with depression, dated (ugh!--a topic I'll save till I see you), and finally ended up with a job I love. All those years I couldn't help but wonder why God would take both you and Jon. So many times I've wished I could have my sister to pour my heart out to; to go shopping with; to make me laugh like you always did; to go on weekend getaways; to love on my poor, fatherless kids. I needed you after Jon died, so I guess it's something I'll never understand. One of the times I miss you the most is when I see sisters together--like Mom and Aunt Lou or Aunt Carol. I have some dear friends that I thank God for, but none of them could ever be you to me.

The good news: God is faithful, and He's carried me through all of this stuff. I am a different (and better)person for having suffered loss. Although He's taken away, He's also given--in abundance. I have Mom and Dad and Katie and Jonathan, Tim and Zella and Elizabeth and Garrett. (I'll let Tim tell you about them--but I love to see the cousins together, and you would too.) And I've been surprised by joy, to borrow a phrase. Almost two years ago, God gave me Henry, a better man than I could have asked for or imagined. When we got engaged, Katie said, "Mom, you're like a Disney princess," and that's how I've felt because that's how he always treats me. It's strange that someone so dear to me knows nothing of you, but he knows loss like I do. His younger brother died back in the nineties. He knows pain. He loves music and has a beautiful tenor voice. He's a godly man, and he loves Katie and Jonathan too. By the way--I have my dream job. I'm an editor at a Christian book publishing company. Life is good.

But I do miss you so, and I think about you everyday. One day soon we will all be together again. By then, January 16 will be long forgotten as a day of sadness. I can't wait to join you in the Great Adventure--to introduce you to my children, to sing with you, laugh with you, talk to you, my little sister.

Love,
Annette

New in 2010

Happy New Year! I suppose that eleven days in still qualifies for a new year. It does seem like a long time since we were opening our gifts, celebrating with family, and visiting with friends on New Year's Eve, but even at that, I'm still trying to find my footing again and figuring out what to do with myself since the holiday busyness has wound down. Transitions can be a little unsettling at times

So since all of the possible "best of 2009" lists have been created and forgotten and we're a little bored with them by now, perhaps a better idea for my first post of 2010 is to  recount all of the new things that have come with a new year--at least for me.

• The biggest new thing is pictured above to the right. I wrote in my last post that Katie had an accident while she was driving my car to work. The Monday after Christmas, we learned that our insurance company had determined the car was totalled, and so the Tuesday after Christmas Henry and I--after some diligent research--went car shopping. I ended up with a 2007 Toyota Corolla, a car that we agree suits me much better than my Subaru Forester (which was an excellent car and served me well for eight years). My Toyota looks much like the one above, only it is black, my favorite car color. Also new is now getting used to driving a car that doesn't have all-wheel drive or an ABS, a challenging adjustment in a Michigan winter. It's all working out well.
• I have a new responsibility at our church. I have been asked to serve on our church's library committee, and since book buying is definitely one of my spiritual gifts, it's all going to work out well. Unfortunately, our committee chair broke her ankle right before Christmas, and with only a few days left in the year and lots of book money left in the budget, I asked if she minded if I purchased the books that my pastor (a great list that was about a page and a half long) and another Bible study leader had requested. It's been kind of exciting coming home from work to yet another box of new books. Now we need to process them and get them on the shelves.
• Another new thing is a responsibility I've completed. For a little over a year now, I've been editing grade 5 and 6 catechism curriculum for a new curriculum that has been developed by Pastor Scheuers and others in Chino, California. It's been an exercise in perseverance because often the last thing I'd want to do during the evening was yet more editing. But it's a worthy project, and it will be gratifying to see children in my own church, especially in fifth and sixth grade, carrying around the books that I edited next fall. It's new to come home from work, fix supper, and realize that I don't have to work on the catechism. And this leaves me open for some more new editing opportunities for Reformed Fellowship, the organization that my own Henry is president of.
• I have new book review published in the January/February issue of  Modern Reformation magazine. Last year I submitted my review of Why We're Not Emergent, and it finally made it in.
• I'm starting a new reading list. I actually exceeded my reading goal for 2009: reading one fiction and one nonfiction title a month. I'm going to keep the goal the same this year. I failed to meet my goal of reading Calvin's Institutes during the Calvin 500 year celebration, but I got about halfway through, and I'm still plugging away.

So these are the things that are new for me in 2010. I'm sure there will be more, because if there's one thing that isn't new, it's that everything changes, often faster than we can keep up.

Two Scraped Fingers

In an old Christmas song from the 1940s, a child sings, “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” I’m suggesting a new version of that song this year for our family: “What I got for Christmas is two scraped fingers.” In fact, the two scraped fingers that we got this week as an early Christmas gift on Monday will probably be my favorite gift of all. Let me explain . . .


Monday morning, Katie was driving to her job at the Cornerstone University library and stopped for a yellow light at East Beltline and Lake (for those of you who are local). Unfortunately, the construction-company truck with a trailer that was behind her didn’t stop for the yellow light, and hit the back of her car (which is actually my car), spun her, and hit the driver’s side door, denting it so badly that she couldn’t open it to get out of the car. The back of the car was smashed in, the back window was shattered, the driver’s side was dented, and both the driver’s side windows were shattered. Katie walked away from the whole thing with two scraped fingers that didn’t even require bandages. And in the meantime, until Henry could get there, there were several people who showed great kindness to her, especially a woman who stayed at the scene, let Katie sit in her car, and called her boss for her to let him know what happened and why Katie wasn’t there.

In our family, December has historically been an eventful month. We have many birthdays, including my dad’s, my sister’s, my niece’s, and Henry’s—and those are just a few; there are more on both my and Henry’s side . It has also been a month of some devastating events: the car accident that ultimately took my sister’s life; my first husband’s leukemia diagnosis; the diagnosis about a year later that he had relapsed after his bone marrow transplant and the prognosis that he would die in about ten weeks.

But now I will also remember December as the month when my red-headed girl got into a terrible accident and walked away with two scraped fingers. And I will thank God that He gave us this gift of the protection of Katie’s life. I don’t think there’s much else I could want for Christmas this year.

*The photo is Katie and Jonathan, probably about 1994, my treasures of Christmas past.

What If Christmas Means a Little Bit More?

With tumult all around us--the silliness that is "climate change," a failing economy, a culture that seems to have lost any semblance of principle or moral grounding, politicians whose only concern is forcing their own agenda on the people who would rather not have it--one of my favorite DHP authors offers some good news in this excerpt from a Resources for Your Ministry blog post that will be published on Christmas day:

"Human love has reasons to love—wealth, beauty, intelligence, or other attributes that make love’s object loveable and desirable. Divine love is not based on merit or deservedness. God loves you, not because you are yourself but because He is Himself: 'God is love' (1 John 4:8, 16). Philosopher Peter Kreeft argues that God’s love cannot answer the question, 'Why do I love thee?' He can only say, 'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways . . .'"

~David Roper

When They're Down Part 3

As promised, I'm going to close out this series by talking about something that is admittedly negative, but necessary. There are ways that we can respond (or not respond) to someone who is need that can add insult to injury. Those who have endured hardship know that for every kindness sent their way, there often is an unhappy story of insensitivity because of the way someone has responded to their pain. Just as there are as many ways to be a blessing as there are difficult situations, there are probably as many ways to cause pain on top of pain. Those that I mention here come from my own experience or from the experiences of people I know. While most people don't want to "kick someone when he or she is down," sometimes we do just that out of a lack of understanding.

1. Don't think that you must comfort someone by coming up with some clever new thought or some inspirational words that will cheer that person up. Often, there are just no words. And our feeble attempts to cheer someone often result in the opposite effect. If you find yourself talking with someone who is suffering and you sense yourself starting a sentence with, "At least . . ." you might just want to stop there. For example, we might be tempted to tell someone who has just lost a job, "At least you have your health." It may be true, and that person should be thankful for good health, but that probably isn't the best time to mention it. I've heard of situations where a parent has lost a child, and someone may say, "At least you have two other healthy children." As much as we'd like it to, gain doesn't compensate for loss. Having those two healthy children doesn't take away the pain of the lost one. Rather than trying to find that "right thing" to say, we would do well to offer help (see my last post), give a hug, and tell that person we love him or her and are praying for the situation.

2. We shouldn't set a time clock for someone else's grief. Often those who have never experienced a tremendous loss become impatient with another's grief. We really don't have any right to tell someone else how long they may grieve a loss. There is grief that is both healthy and unhealthy, and when we see a grieving person shutting him or herself off from the world, unable to hold down a job, and generally unable to cope, we should be concerned and see about getting that person some help. But grief is a part of loss, and there is no one timetable on grief. I realized earlier this month that my sister who died in 1990 would have been forty this year. And at the same time, I realized that this January will mark twenty years since her death. Twenty years later and I still miss her very much. And there are times when I still cry for the pain of losing her. My mom recently talked about a former co-worker who gave her a very difficult time after my sister died. Our family spent a lot of time on the phone with each other after Kristi died, just being there for each other. And our pain didn't necessarily wait until work hours were over. Apparently I had called my mom at work one afternoon, struggling over my loss. The whole time my mom and I were talking on the phone, this co-worker kept walking past my mom's office. After the call was over, she nastily informed my mom that she shouldn't be spending all that time on the phone. She thought she knew just how long our family should grieve our loss and wanted to assign the times when we could express grief. This same person later suffered a miscarriage and, having suffered a significant loss, apologized to my mom for the way she treated her. We need to be patient and compassionate with those who are suffering and not impose our own ideas about how long they're allowed to grieve.

3. We shouldn't abandon those who are suffering. This is, perhaps, the most difficult thing my children and I have faced. It's hard to imagine that close family members would actually abandon those who are hurting, but I'm here to tell you from personal experience that it happens. There are some close family members who basically have cut themselves off from us. One excuse I've heard is that when one family member is in contact with us, it reminds him of his own pain at losing Jon (my children's dad and my first husband). We've also heard through the family grapevine that others have abandoned us because they haven't heard that we've been experiencing anything particularly difficult, and "no news is good news."  Those same family members ignored Katie's high school graduation and couldn't be bothered to even send her a card to congratulate her. So I guess that means that "good news is no news" as well. This selfish abandonment has been a great source of pain for both Katie and me especially. We feel like we have been punished because Jon died. These same people, had they been able to look beyond their own selfishness and superficiality, could have been a great help and encouragement to the children and me in those difficult financial, emotional, and spiritual times. Instead, they increased our pain with their callousness. And they've missed out on knowing what great people Katie and Jonathan are. I know that my parents also have family members who abandoned them after my sister died, and I've heard of others who have experienced this as well. Jesus had something to say about this kind of behavior in the parable of the Good Samaritan. As difficult as it can be to "be there" for someone who is suffering, we need to remember that Christ did not abandon us. How much more, then, should we continue to stand by those around us who are in pain?

Being able to minister to someone who is going through a difficult time is a calling, a privilege, and a great blessing. It is a thrill to think that God might use us to be a help to one of His children who is in need. There will always be those around us who need help because Jesus reminded us that in this world there would be trials, and we need to be prepared to support those who are down rather than "kicking them."