Good thing I've been reading the book "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp! On Thursday I drove down to Mankato to watch Sarah's fastpitch softball team lose their playoff game to Chanhassen, 6-0. That wasn't so bad, as that team had been winning many games by scores of 17-0 or more. On my way home, I called Philip (on Pete's phone) to see if the church slowpitch game had ended, or if I should come in to Willmar to see the rest of it. I decided to attend, and halfway to Willmar Philip called to ask me to bring ice - "Dad hurt his leg. He heard his knee pop - he hyper-extended it." Rats. Pete called before I got the ice to say that a member of the opposing team had brought some from his neighboring house. We enjoyed cheering the team on to victory, 20-13, while Pete sat on the bench and Jason K. substituted on the pitcher's mound.
After the game, Lois Nelson declared, "Peter whatever-your-middle-name-is Stadem, you are going in!" We hemmed and hawed as we drove to DQ, where Andrew and Philip purchased their usual post-game Blizzards, but finally decided we'd better get it checked out. Daniel came to get the boys and I drove Pete to the emergency room at Rice Hospital. After an hour or two, the X-ray revealed a compound fracture of the tibia and an insignificant fracture of the fibula. The doctor insisted on speaking with an orthopedic surgeon and phoned Alexandria, where a Dr. Nelson recommended sending Pete home with a splinted legs and orders to call Willmar the next day to schedule surgery. We crawled into bed at 1:30am - well, I crawled; Pete and I gingerly raised his leg to the bed and he slept on his back. Ibuprofen controlled the pain fairly well, though.
On Friday, after numerous phone calls to Willmar, Alexandria and Olivia, we journeyed to Heartland Orthopedics in Alexandria because no orthopedic surgeon in Willmar could help us. As it turned out, no orthopedic surgeon in Alex could help us either. Surgery has to wait until this week because the swelling must go down or they wouldn't be able to close the incision. We waited almost two hours for Pete's CT scan, because a sudden influx of emergency patients kept the scanner busy. When we finally arrived home at supper time, I took a bath while Pete napped on the couch, and then I did go to the Gatewood's barn dance for about an hour. Biggest crowd yet and so fun!
So - no trip to Plain View Farm this weekend; no softball for Pete the rest of the season; no graduation parties for him on Saturday; no going much of anywhere (just a funeral and church) until the surgery. On the positive side - no ligaments or tendons torn (they think); no terrible pain; no work for several days, so time to think and pray about some long-term issues we've been procrastinating. The kids have been very helpful, including taking care of the turkeys. Lots of folks are praying for us. And bone heals well. God is good - all the time!
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Monday, May 27, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Blessings in the Midst of Trials
Lori was buried today. On March 21, the thirteenth anniversary of my mother's death, the sister of my college roommate breathed her last and went to be with the Lord. Last night and today, hundreds of people gathered at the funeral home and her church to remember her life, cry for their loss, and support the family. I was privileged to play the (wonderful grand) piano for the service; it was an honor not only to serve the family and congregation, but also to work with the talented and experienced singers and string players, and to praise the Lord with "Amazing Grace," "It is Well with my Soul," "Blessings" and "Revelation Song." The personal tributes and the sermon inspired us all to emulate Lori's joy, peace and love. She knew Jesus Christ in a very real way, and her life reflected His Spirit in her work, play and relationships before her diagnosis, and in her trust and hope through the last five months of illness and decline.
Reflecting on the many small blessings in the midst of this very big trial, several of Lori's relatives and friends, as well as her pastor, declared their confidence that God was present and at work throughout. From Shelley's ability to quit her job and come three or four days every week to care for her sister, to the timing of Lori's last breath - just days after her husband took a leave of absence from work, and with every member of her family plus friends able to be present - to myriads of little circumstances, they could see the Lord's love and grace in the midst of trouble.
The parallel to a loving parent training a child came to my mind. There are many "big trials" we have to put our children through - from weaning to walking to driving to leaving the nest, and dozens more. Sometimes they want to go through the troubles to get to the prize, but often they don't and we have to use some measure of discipline, force or discomfort to get the job done. When we're good parents, we reassure the children that we are with them - physically and/or emotionally - as they go through the necessary hardships. But they have to go through them. These thoughts comfort me when I think about my mother's death; perhaps they comfort others too.
Reflecting on the many small blessings in the midst of this very big trial, several of Lori's relatives and friends, as well as her pastor, declared their confidence that God was present and at work throughout. From Shelley's ability to quit her job and come three or four days every week to care for her sister, to the timing of Lori's last breath - just days after her husband took a leave of absence from work, and with every member of her family plus friends able to be present - to myriads of little circumstances, they could see the Lord's love and grace in the midst of trouble.
The parallel to a loving parent training a child came to my mind. There are many "big trials" we have to put our children through - from weaning to walking to driving to leaving the nest, and dozens more. Sometimes they want to go through the troubles to get to the prize, but often they don't and we have to use some measure of discipline, force or discomfort to get the job done. When we're good parents, we reassure the children that we are with them - physically and/or emotionally - as they go through the necessary hardships. But they have to go through them. These thoughts comfort me when I think about my mother's death; perhaps they comfort others too.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
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?
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?
Saturday, September 29, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Providential Miscommunication
Sometimes miscommunication works out for the best. On Thursday I played the organ for a funeral at Svea. A niece of the deceased, Kris, played a saxophone solo, beautifully, and remained on the praise platform for the rest of the service. The last hymn, "Precious Lord, Take My Hand," was in a different hymnal which had been handed out before the service. Kris didn't have the hymnal on the platform and wasn't singing the first verse. I tried to catch her eye and nod toward the correct hymnal sitting on a pew beside her, but she didn't get it. Finally I took advantage of a break in the music and actually pointed to the hymnal. Kris thought I pointed to her saxophone, so she picked it up and started playing along. Her beautiful tone and excellent improvisation provided a lovely addition to the hymn, and the congregation appreciated it. I didn't even tell her afterward that it had been a miscommunication - the Lord works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform!
Monday, January 30, 2012
A Beautiful Funeral
Pete often says that he wishes we had to go to a funeral every week, because of the perspective on life it provides. Saturday morning was such a funeral, as we mourned the death of Dona Chambers. I remember Dona from my earliest days, as she and Don were good friends of my parents. They went out dancing every Friday or Saturday night for years. The two families, along with the Carlsons and Larsons, also gathered most Memorial Days, Labor Days and New Year's Days, at our house or the Chambers mansion in Svea. With seven children, they needed every square foot of their four-bedroom, two-story older home next to the parsonage and across the street from the church. Ever since Don's retirement, Dona has spent over half the year in Yuma, AZ, even after Don's sudden death seven years ago of a massive heart attack. Her son Dave and his family have helped her keep up the big house, which will now be sold.
Dona loved to dance the night away with friends or family, at home or away, at a ballroom or a wedding. This summer two grandchildren got married, and none of the family members could keep up with her on the dance floor at the receptions. She also had a big 80th birthday party in July and everyone was home for the celebration (she has a son in AZ and daughters in WA, AK, and FL). After those events, she finally went to the doctor to investigate the pain she'd had while eating for months. Stomach cancer would kill her, but first she had months of treatment, staying at a care center, relief from pain, and then her final hospital stay of twelve days. I visited her several times but never really had the chance to talk about important things. However, Carol (a daughter) did, and shared at the funeral Dona's firm hope of heaven and that she was ready to go home.
Pastor Joyce Graue, filling in for our pastor on maternity leave, had visited Dona throughout her illness and also supported the family. Her gospel message filled us with appreciation for the Lord and His gifts, mercy and love. She quoted Scripture throughout the service and at the graveside and communicated her great faith in the promises of God's Word. She wanted "Lord of the Dance" sung during the sermon; since David was home, I asked him to sing those verses and have the congregation join on the chorus. His rich bass voice perfectly complemented the words of the verses:
"I danced on a Friday when the world was black;
It's hard to dance with the devil on your back"
and
"I am the life that'll never, never die
And I'll live in you if you live in me."
I sang "One Day at a Time," requested by Dona, at Don's funeral. When I suggested a repeat to the family, they concurred, so Camy Wenberg and I sang it as a duet. After tearing and choking up during Carol's remembrance speech, I was concerned that we would have a hard time getting through our songs (Camy also sang "Amazing Grace" movingly) without breaking down, but the Lord carried us through and we had no problems with that. The daughters also wanted the hymns to be more upbeat, so I played "Soon and Very Soon" with gusto and the congregation followed my lead. As the funeral home directors brought the casket down the aisle, the sound man played "In the Mood" from a CD. The celebration has begun!
Dona loved to dance the night away with friends or family, at home or away, at a ballroom or a wedding. This summer two grandchildren got married, and none of the family members could keep up with her on the dance floor at the receptions. She also had a big 80th birthday party in July and everyone was home for the celebration (she has a son in AZ and daughters in WA, AK, and FL). After those events, she finally went to the doctor to investigate the pain she'd had while eating for months. Stomach cancer would kill her, but first she had months of treatment, staying at a care center, relief from pain, and then her final hospital stay of twelve days. I visited her several times but never really had the chance to talk about important things. However, Carol (a daughter) did, and shared at the funeral Dona's firm hope of heaven and that she was ready to go home.
Pastor Joyce Graue, filling in for our pastor on maternity leave, had visited Dona throughout her illness and also supported the family. Her gospel message filled us with appreciation for the Lord and His gifts, mercy and love. She quoted Scripture throughout the service and at the graveside and communicated her great faith in the promises of God's Word. She wanted "Lord of the Dance" sung during the sermon; since David was home, I asked him to sing those verses and have the congregation join on the chorus. His rich bass voice perfectly complemented the words of the verses:
"I danced on a Friday when the world was black;
It's hard to dance with the devil on your back"
and
"I am the life that'll never, never die
And I'll live in you if you live in me."
I sang "One Day at a Time," requested by Dona, at Don's funeral. When I suggested a repeat to the family, they concurred, so Camy Wenberg and I sang it as a duet. After tearing and choking up during Carol's remembrance speech, I was concerned that we would have a hard time getting through our songs (Camy also sang "Amazing Grace" movingly) without breaking down, but the Lord carried us through and we had no problems with that. The daughters also wanted the hymns to be more upbeat, so I played "Soon and Very Soon" with gusto and the congregation followed my lead. As the funeral home directors brought the casket down the aisle, the sound man played "In the Mood" from a CD. The celebration has begun!
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