Bad Days

I'm tense and crabby today.  It might actually be PMS, which I've never had before.  I snapped at the kids for leaving house chores undone or not doing them well, resented Pete for making reasonable demands upon me, napped for over an hour and am just as tired after getting up.  I have a few abdominal cramps, but mostly feel lethargic, unmotivated and irritable - although, of course, I was fine at the church, hosting a bridal shower this morning.  No crabbiness then!  I criticize the kids for acting politely and kindly to others, but rudely to us.  Wonder where they get it?  Not a good day.

We're dealing with an abundance of bad news around us.  A friend's father just found out he has pancreatic cancer; we've never known anyone personally with this disease, but now know two who will, barring a miracle, leave this earth this year.  The other friend with pancreatic cancer had her second CT scan, revealing that her liver tumors have tripled in size and making chemotherapy irrelevant.  Another friend got a DWI and lost his job because the court process disclosed that he is, in fact, an illegal alien.  Of course he got himself into this mess, and certainly it's probably for the best that he get home to his family he hasn't seen for ten years, but we still love him and hate to see him suffer.   A fellow home school mom died of breast cancer a few weeks ago, leaving nine children, including two in high school.  Two couples who belong to our church are probably divorcing - and apparently the two breakups are connected.    I sang at a funeral the other day; the family is so dysfunctional that a day with no blowups was considered a success.

Of course there are some bright spots; one couple who has been having marriage troubles is doing better, another who's been living together is getting married, and a good friend's daughter stopped taking anti-depressants because of her pregnancy and is doing fine.

I suppose we should be grateful that for over fifty years, our lives and those of our friends and relatives have been so relatively smooth.  Many people have trouble and trauma all around them every day of their lives.  But it's hard to take a seemingly sudden change.  Our hearts hurt for many, and especially some who don't seem to know the Lord very well.  I can't imagine trying to deal with crushing blows without the hope of eternity and a day with "no more tears."  I've been convicted of my need to spend more time in prayer, both to plead for our friends and to reset my perspective.  Truly this life is but a vapor, and the trials we face are not worth comparing with the glory we shall see.  Now can I remember that when the chores are left undone?

Perspective

I'm starting our Christmas newsletter by brainstorming possible items to include.  It's not every year that a trip to California will take second place in the contest for Biggest Stadem News.  Andrew's confirmation and David's college graduation pale in comparison with "Welcome, Callie!"  It's all a matter of perspective.

Shelley was in town all week helping her sister, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a month ago.  She slept here last night as all the relatives descended upon Lori's house for the bridal shower tomorrow honoring Jamie, Lori's daughter, who moved her wedding date from next April to this December so she can be sure her mom will be there.  Their church and work communities have rallied around them and are doing a lot of the leg work for the wedding.  Jamie confessed to Aunt Shelley, "When I was getting married in April, I had so many requirements.  This had to be done my way and that had to be perfect.  Now none of that seems to matter; I just want Mom to be well enough to enjoy my wedding."  It's all a matter of perspective.

Only two days remain for Mitt Romney or President Obama to convince enough indecisive voters to propel him into office.  I tend to follow politics and obsess about my concerns, so I took a break from the scene this fall and refused to watch, read or listen to political ads or commentary.  I wish I could state that this cured me of my excessive interest, but I'm pretty sure that on Election Day (and for days thereafter) I'll be glued to the computer, trying to figure out what went right and wrong.  However, if a member of my family died or became severely ill or injured, I wouldn't care a bit about the elections except as a distraction from things of true importance. It's all a matter of perspective.

Lord, grant us a truer perspective on life and Your kingdom.  Amen.

You Never Know

Two weeks ago, one of the posts on Faceboook informed me that Lori Wilson had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the worst of all cancers.  I called Shelley, my college roommate and Lori's sister, a couple of days later; Lori was at the U of M getting a second opinion and information about her options.  Now Lori is back home, able to eat, full of faith, but facing an almost certain death in a matter of months, apart from a miracle.  Her daughter and fiance moved their wedding date to December 8 so Lori can attend.  She will never see a grandchild, a fiftieth wedding anniversary, a parent's funeral.  I can't imagine how distraught her parents are.  She's 50.

This weekend we celebrated Dad Stadem's 85th birthday in Sioux Falls with 4 of the 5 children, 14 of the 18 grandchildren, a niece and a great-nephew with their families.  His joy, and all of ours, overflowed as he watched an Augustana football game, received compliments and reminiscences, feasted on several hotdishes and a Norwegian birthday cake, listened to "Happy Birthday!" sung by his congregation, sipped coffee and munched on quick breads during coffee hour, and heard "God Didn't Give Me Much" sung by his family in the second worship service.  (That song isn't what the title implies!)

Why does one see all his children's children, and one see none?  We don't know; it's in God's hands.  But I want to hug those I love, live each day to the fullest, and "grow in faith, love and obedience to the will of God," because you never know how many days are left.

Funeral Thoughts

Linda Petersen, age 68, died last week and we attended her funeral on Tuesday.  Family and friends filled the church to mourn for this active, feisty lady who loved animals and cared for them and her family members constantly.  Her three children, in-laws and three grandchildren will miss her greatly; she and her husband, Matt, invested much time, money and energy in their lives.  My heart breaks for Matt, because he retired in January and they had planned exciting travel and hobbies.  Instead they fought lung cancer for the entire time and now he faces his retirement alone, having lost his mother and mother-in-law in the last six months as well.

Linda had many woman friends, including my mother before her death (Linda played piano for many of Mom's singing gigs), and she designated eight women as her pallbearers.  She also asked that I "jazz it up" on the piano as I accompanied the congregation on "Precious Lord, Take my Hand."  I did my best, and a few of the women appreciated the effort and thought it was enough.  Our former pastor gave a beautiful tribute to Linda's wisdom, and our current pastor a meaningful sermon on God's grace.  Our kids helped in the kitchen for over an hour and a half while I visited with old friends who had come to support the family; one was Gordy Chalmers and his wife, Claudia (Matt's sister), with whom I toured France on the high school trip.

Camy, Linda's oldest daughter, is almost my age, and, living close, has had to be the strong one- working six days a week in her shop, caring for Linda's animals, helping her own children as usual.  She assured me that she has found time to cry and grieve; I pray she can feel God's arms around her, because as a divorced woman, she cries alone for the most part.  She has started teaching Sunday School, which will bring her out to Svea weekly so we can stay connected.

I pray and trust that the Lord is continuing to work out His purposes in and through Linda's death.