Monthly Archives: February 2012

You gotta laugh: hope in the midst of Alzheimer’s

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My mother-in-law passed away six years ago this week. She died in her bed here in this house where we live now.

Almost five years earlier my in-laws had moved in with us so we could help with her care in her declining years, as she disappeared in the gray cloud of Alzheimer’s. You would think these wouldn’t be laughing years.

But we laughed.

I thought about it again when I came across a funny story one of my children had written. “Grandma-isms” are nested in our family conversation all the time, and even in our writing. “Look, I’ve got doubles!” she would say as she pointed to the two engagement rings she wore together (hers and her mother’s). Now, when we have two of almost anything, we’ll say to each other, “I’ve got doubles!”

So many, so many funny things she said. She pointed to Stephen playing in the snow and said, “There’s Tim on top of a pile of apples!”  Sometimes we laughed right as the words came out of her mouth, out of utter surprise, and she would invariably wrinkle her nose and laugh with us.

Is it the kind of thing only another Alzheimer’s caregiver could understand? That you can laugh in the midst of such a twilight, inevitably descending? But maybe . . . I think others could understand it too, others who have sometimes known an almost inexplicable lightness of heart in the midst of sorrow.

We cried. Yes, we cried. We felt the heaviness and the difficulty. And we cried out to God to know what to do, when she wanted to go home and couldn’t go home. When she couldn’t sleep. When she slept round the clock. When she talked nonstop. When she stopped talking altogether. When she stopped walking. When she stopped eating.

But the laughter is a gift from God. And praise God, through the sorrow, through the darkness, He gives moments of laughter.

Six years ago this week, Mom graduated to glory. She got her mind back, and she got to see Jesus.

She got doubles.

Jabonep the Witness Man (Witness Men ch 6)

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I’m posting a chapter at a time of my most recent book, for about a week each.  Witness Men: True Stories of God at Work in Papua, Indonesia is due out in Spring 2013.

The teenage boys of the Dani tribe in the Pyramid Valley jumped and shouted outside the missionary’s house with such energy that their long black hair bounced on their backs. “Tuan Yon! Tuan Yon!”

Henry Young got out of bed and came to the door, where he could see the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon.

“Tuan Yon, you must hear!  In another village, near us, a man has come who can’t see. He is very short. The gun shot him many years ago. It went right through him, but he’s still alive!”

“What? What are you talking about?” Henry Young passed his hand over his sleepy eyes.

“Long times past, this blind man went away, but now he has come back! The river! The river waters stop and let him go by on dry ground!”

“Who is it?” Henry asked. “Where did you get this story?”

“Didn’t you hear about him?” one boy insisted. “If he dies, his family won’t burn him. They’ll just throw him in the river. Then he’ll come back to life!”

All the boys sucked in their breaths, their eyes wide.

“And then we’ll be able to see the spirits of the dead, Tuan!” another boy added. “They’ll look like you!” But the boys were too excited to laugh. They nearly trembled at the wonder of this amazing man. “Do you want to come see him?”

“You’d better believe I do,” Henry muttered. He got his clothes on and walked with the boys to the nearby village. They continued to chatter all the way.

From a distance they could see the crowd. How many here? Henry wondered. Must be thousands. They were still gathering, coming from villages all around. Everyone was chattering about the amazing stories they had heard.

This chapter was actually posted for way longer than a week because I forgot to remove it. Hope you enjoyed it!

Fresh Bread, Fresh Words

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I’m studying Philippians . . .

I memorized it when I was in college. I’ve taught Bible studies on it. I studied it in-depth nine years ago.

And I pull the bread out of the fridge and sniff it, surreptitiously checking for little white spots.

Why did I start studying Philippians last month? Well, I was finished reading through my Bible in a year, and I was praying where to next focus my Bible time. Our pastor was starting a series in Philippians. And I had nine-year-old notes in my Bible that I wanted to transcribe onto the computer.

Look, I know it’s stale, but if you put it in the toaster, you won’t notice.

And so, I sat down at the computer with my open Bible and my keyboard. I was faced with words that I knew as well as the college ring that’s been on my third finger right hand for over thirty years.

Except . . . not. Unlike my college ring, these are the words of God.

I stood aghast, again, at the hardness of my heart. I cried out to God to knead me and shape me and humble me before His holy words.

And Jesus cried out, “I am the Bread of Life! He that comes to Me will never hunger!”

Lord Jesus, You are my Living Bread.

Is it possible, for something so familiar? To gather fresh grain from the field . . . to grind it fresh to make fresh flour . . . to knead it and pound it and raise it and shape it . . . and to bake it to produce from the oven a loaf, not only steaming and crusty and soft, but so nourishing that it can be called “the staff of life”?

Lord Jesus, these words reveal Your heart. Show me Your heart. I want fresh Bread.

Is it any coincidence that the Lord brought me the book of Philippians steaming and fresh, a book about joyful togetherness in suffering, at this time of my life? At the time of my life when I’m no longer turning my face away from the suffering around the world because “it’s too disturbing” and “I really just can’t think about that now,” but instead am embracing it and weeping for my brothers and sisters who are suffering and dying, standing firm in faith with them? Is it by accident that I taste the nourishment of “to me to live is Christ and to die is gain” and “don’t be terrified by your adversaries” at a time in my life when I have become aware of the very real possibility that in the near future we in the United States will be suffering for our faith as well?

I’m partaking of the Bread, fresh and nourishing. I eat it. I rejoice. I’m satisfied.  No excuses needed.

I woke up this morning thinking about these words. I had to write them now, while they’re fresh.

Letter from a teacher

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A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of visiting a classroom of elementary students who had read together, as a class, a  preliminary copy of Witness Men, my most recent book and #3 in the Hidden Heroes series. It was a delight to talk with them. Later I received an encouraging letter from the teacher:

After the chapter toward the end where the missionary was martyred, we discussed martydom, Jim Eliot’s life, and the cost of following Christ.  We were all always close to tears as we finished a chapter, and did end up in tears as we read the last two chapters.  The responses were always that they loved each chapter better than the last, and they wouldn’t change a thing. I think we proved more valuable as admirers than critics.

I hope knowing that you have captured nine precious little hearts will make up for our lack of more formal critiquing.  And in capturing them with your writing, you have opened up new worlds to them, challenging those precious hearts to pray harder, to witness more diligently, to be more appreciative of their material and spiritual blessings, and to be open to being used as these missionaries have been.  Hopefully, their response and positive reception of the book is a good and encouraging sign to you of how well it will be received among children as well as adults. 

We pray for you and look forward to holding the finished product in our hands as soon as possible!

Praising God that He is already using these stories in the lives of children. I’m excited about working through the process of publication.