Kathi and Ron and Joshua and The Grand Hotel

Shortly before our anniversary, Ron surprised me. He had made arrangements for us to attend an overnight marriage conference (Celebrate your Marriage) at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island! Wabba! We hadn’t had special time together, or any time away in well over a year – and never at the Grand Hotel! It sounded great!

The day before our anniversary jaunt, I opened my Bible to the Old Testament book of Joshua where I’ve turned many times in my studies, especially since I read of Joshua, who, facedown in reverence before the Lord, asked,

What message does my Lord have for his servant? (Joshua 5:14).

This has become a question I try to remember to ask God every day.

What message does my Lord have for his servant?

On this day,the message lay boldly before me:

I will begin to exalt you in the eyes of all Israel, so they may know that I am with you . . . (Joshua 3:7).

I didn’t know exactly what it meant for me, but I believed it included and involved my family. And I was excited to see what God was going to do and how He was going to do it! Sometime in the past, beside those words in my Bible, I had written the location of a coordinating passage, which I had underlined in the next chapter:

That day the Lord exalted Joshua in the sight of all Israel . . . (Joshua 4:14).

I knew that day was coming soon.

And so we spent a night in Mackinaw City, went across to the island, and spent another night at the elegant Grand Hotel, laughing through the conference sessions and truly celebrating our marriage. On Monday, after the last session and after an elegant lunch, our time at the Grand Hotel was over, so the horse-driven carriage transported us, clippety-clop, to the dock.

Have you ever had a dream that you are going somewhere, perhaps running away from something, but you seem to be moving in slow motion – getting nowhere? This dream became real as we left Mackinac Island and headed south toward Kalamazoo.

We had allowed ample time to drive to Kalamazoo. (Mapquest shows it as being a 4 1/2 hour trip.) We were excited to meet our Kristen and Josh and the children. Somewhat last minute, Valley Family Church of Kalamazoo had slated Tim Storey for a special healing/miracle service. Kristen and Josh were taking Baby Luke, and we didn’t want to miss it. We wanted to be open to the filling of God’s Holy Spirit. And we were trusting God for continued manifestation of Luke’s healing in this journey our family had been on since his birth in December.

What message does my Lord have for his servant?

So, we left the island on a ferry, of course – Shepler’s Ferry Service – supposedly the smoothest of all. And I suppose it really was the smoothest service, under normal conditions. But you see, a wind was blowing across the Straits of Mackinac on Monday; a storm was brewing. Our little ferry was packed with people carrying boxes of Murdick’s Fudge or handled bags stuffed with souveniers. The interior cabin soon became quite “stuffy.” The little ferry tore across the waters coupling the island and the mitten, the experienced captain darting between the massive Lake Huron waves capped in white. By mid-strait, I was watching those waves through the back end of the ferry, joined by one passenger after another, making their way along the narrow aisle like drunken travelers toward the promising fresh air. Each drop of cold lake water, pelleting our faces, served simply to keep us from losing our elegant lunches to the boat’s rocking bottom!

Once ashore, the wind whipped the awnings covering our awaiting luggage and drove the claim cards from our hands, across the rocks, into the waves, and back toward the island; our keys, although mislabeled “Dan Hutchinson” instead of “Ron Waligora,” did actually open our car doors, and finally we were tucked inside our little Buick Enclave, nauseous and glad to be back on land.

Heading south, the outside temperatures increased a degree with each mile we traveled until we were finally sailing down I-75 in 82 degree weather. Little did we know the southern stretch of the storm lay ahead us.

So as we traveled south on I-75, toward Clare, toward Lansing, and toward Kalamazoo, the sky darkened. Every time we thought we were “driving out of it,” the road curved and we drove deeper into it. The sky rained on us in violent downpours. Time and again, we pulled off the road – onto the medium if we could not decipher an exit – under a gas station overhang if we could. Local power outages resulted; parking lots flooded; and each time we pursued the highway venture, the wind agitated the little Buick and standing water propelled it as though it were a diecast model.

What message does my Lord have for his servant?

He answered:

Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1: 9)

Finally I realized that this was not just a spring rainstorm. I thought perhaps the enemy did not want us to attend this evening’s healing / miracle service – did not want us to invite the Holy Spirit to indwell and work within us – did not want us to share in the manifestation of Baby Luke’s healing. So I prayed to our Awesome God, and I rebuked the enemy, and on we went, through the storm, into the sunlight, and on to Kalamazoo, entering the huge church just in time to begin worship with a thousand others.

Consecrate yourselves . . . (Joshua 3:5)

The Lord had been telling me this for quite some time, as He had told Joshua and the Israelites. And the two-hour service was indeed a time of consecration within my own heart and soul. The worship stirred my heart to confession and repentance. Ron and I sat and we stood and we praised and we worshipped in absolute amazement! The Holy Spirit was most obviously in this place. I stood between my husband of 42 years and my son-in-law, Josh, who was holding our little Baby Luke – the child who was teaching us about faith and healing and about the wounds of Jesus and the very reason Jesus had suffered those wounds. I placed my hands on the baby and prayed for him, while Ron prayed for our entire family.

Consecrate yourselves for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you.

I’m not a Joshua. I don’t feel worthy to receive the same message God spoke to Joshua, but I am. I was made worthy by the blood of Jesus. I was recently reminded that I “have more than Joshua did because I have the blood of Jesus, the righteousness of God and the New Testament” (BVOV, May 2013). And quite some time ago, through studying God’s Word, I began to realize the power of Jesus in me, and little by little, I am believing Jesus and understanding what He says – that I, Kathi, who believe in Him shall do great works because Jesus went to the Father and sent the Holy Spirit to indwell me – that I, Kathi, may ask Jesus for anything in His name, and He will do it (John 14:11-14). How awesome is that! I’ve asked Jesus for healing for Baby Luke and for increasing faith in myself that I might see it every step of the way! In His name!

The healing / miracle service was an amazing step in that journey of faith, for we soon learned that . . . tomorrow, the Lord will do amazing things. And He did! On Tuesday! I’ll write about it in my next posting.

May 11, 2013May 13, 2013

I Rise Up and Call You Blessed (Part 3 of “My Mother, The Proverbs 31 Noble Woman”

Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life . . . Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land. . . her husband . . . praises her.

Oh, yes! It’s difficult to believe today – that a woman would take such good care of her husband! But she did! And yes, he had full confidence in her; and yes, she brought him good all the days of her life; and yes, he was respected and an elder; and yes, he praised her! When I was young, I never heard my mother argue with my dad. She didn’t slam the door in his face or yell at him. She never spoke about separation or divorce. Faithfulness.

As a result, he cherished her. He respected her. He opened doors for her and was openly affectionate with her. He gave her gifts. I observed. It taught me much. And all by example.

He praised her for 65 years – even into the last stages of his dementia!

She loved, honored, and served him for 65 years – even unto his last breath!

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.

She knew everything that was going on in the house and was always busy, whether working at the school, at the factory, or at home.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

As an adolescent, I argued with her – repeatedly! I had little confidence in her wisdom or instruction. But amazingly, years later, I looked at her and saw a woman who spoke with wisdom and faithful instruction! My, how she had changed during those years I grew up!

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Her children arise and call her blessed.

Oh, yes. I began singing her praises, especially after I became a mother!

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

. . . but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

So now, when I praise my Mama, I also pray the very last verse of Proverbs 31:

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Give her the reward she has earned, [O Lord], and let her works bring her praise at [heaven’s] gate.

Amen. Happy Mother’s Day, Mama!

May 11, 2013July 30, 2013

She Extends Her Hands to the Needy : Part 2 of “My Mother, the Proverbs 31 Noble Woman”

I last wrote about Mom’s potholders – basically the only thing she ever sewed on her Singer! I wrote about those potholders becoming burnt at the edges and dabbled with smidgeons of escalloped potatoes or the broth of pot roast, or an occasional pot of chili. That pot of chili – brings me to several other traits of a noble woman – some my mother truly embodied.

~~

“She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls . . . She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks . . . She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy . . . ” (From Proverbs 31)

~~

Mom worked from before daylight until after dark. She planted a garden – then she canned and froze every vegetable and fruit she could get her hands on. (Except beets. She didn’t like beets, so we never had them in the house!) Then, she took the bounty of her garden and she cooked and baked. I never had to ask IF we would have supper. We ALWAYS had supper. But I often came home from school and smelled something delicious baking and found out it wasn’t for us! It was going to someone else in the neighborhood! A meal for the Moores after Edna died. Basketfuls of hot and cold foods for the church supper on the first Wednesday night of the month. A meal for the Reverend Lindsey. Brownies for the church boys’ campout.

~~

One day I remember a big pot of chili on the stove. “Who’s this for?” I asked, feeling neglected.

“It’s for the Andrews family,” Mom replied.

“Well, they’re not from our church,” I complained. “Why are you taking it to them?”

She answered, “They’re hungry and they need to eat, don’t they?”

I don’t know if Mrs. Andrews was sick, or if Mr. Andrews was out of work, but something was going on at the Andrews’ house, and Mom had a heart for this family with six children, and yes, they would eat supper that night because of Mom, who “. . . provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls (or in this case, the Andrews family!)

~~

I’m sending a message up to my mother. I don’t know if it will be delivered by the angels or by the Lord himself, but I’m trusting it’ll get to Mama for this Mother’s Day:

“Many women do noble things [Mama], but you surpass them all.” Proverbs 31:29

Be sure to catch tomorrow’s posting (Part 3) about “My Mother, the Proverbs 31 Noble Woman.”

May 9, 2013July 30, 2013

Her Potholders (Part 1 of “My Mother” the Proverbs 31 Noble Woman)

Mother’s Day causes me to remember my Proverbs 31 mother.

Today, I’m remembering her “gifts” (or lack thereof) of weaving and sewing fabric!

“she selects wool and flax . . . In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers . . . She makes coverings for her bed . . . she makes linen garments . . . ” (from Proverbs 31)

Mom had a sewing machine — a Singer, set in a darling little blonde cabinet.

The Singer was an integral part of our home, holding various places through the years. It sat in the front parlor, in the living room, or in the landing at the top of the stairway.

Whichever location, there it sat!

Mom seldom opened the Singer!

She rarely sewed!

All in all, the Singer generated one resulting product: potholders!

The fabrics varied. Potholders made out of worn chenille bedspreads, old curtains, or tattered towels. The stitched designs were more limited: X’s, O’s, or a combination of both.

Mom’s limited sewing talents were the brunt of teasing throughout the years! She smiled and received the ribbings with a chuckle. And in the end, my sister, Becky, and I both inherited her sewing talents and a few tattered potholders!

Meanwhile, her homemade potholders filled the drawers closest to her stove. They became burnt at the edges and dabbled with smidgeons of escalloped potatoes or the broth of pot roast, or an occasional pot of chili – which brings me to my next point:

Although Mom did not share the sewing talents of the Proverbs 31 wife, she embodied the traits of the noble woman. (Read more in tomorrow’s posting.)

May 8, 2013May 9, 2021

Mother’s Day

I remember when her mother died. Mom’s heart was broken, and I thought I understood. Soon after, Mom and I and my daughters went to a Mother/Daughter Banquet to celebrate Mother’s Day. I was celebrating her – my mother, and I told her so. But Mom was not celebrating. Her heart was broken from the loss of her own mother, my Grandma Locke. And again, I thought I understood.

Nonetheless, I celebrated her — with my unfailing love and my joy in hers. I shared with her my thankful heart — for her tender care, for her prayers, for the heritage she was giving — and for all she would continue to give — to me and to my daughters.

When honoring a mother, a daughter’s joy cannot be contained. It is contagious to the mother. And it is healing.

And it brought some healing to my mother. On that day — that Mother’s Day — Mom knew that her own mother’s legacy had not died with her mother. She knew that it continued in herself and in turn, in me, and then, in my daughters.

So today, Mom, I celebrate your memory, and I continue to honor you and the legacy you have passed on.

Today, I celebrate my Grandma Locke who made sure I had eaten a good dinner and then let me delve into her massive sugar cookies dolloped with jam.

I celebrate my Grandma Nutt who had birthed twelve children and had dozens of grandchildren yet still had time to hold me in her cushy lap and sing to me.

Today, I also celebrate myself. I celebrate my daughters and daughter-in-law, and I celebrate my granddaughters. And I know the legacy continues. And it is quite healing.

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April 16, 2013March 18, 2014

“No,” she says. “Send someone else.”

The young wife feels unloved by her new father-in-law.

She is of a different Christian denomination. Of a different family background.

She tries to please.

But she’s rejected.

She’s not good enough.

She is shunned. Her children are shunned. Her heart is broken.

The pain presses in to the depths of her soul.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It’s years before the healing comes.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The healing comes through faith – a faith only the size of a mustard seed – so small she didn’t know it was there.

Faith comes from hearing . . . and the message is heard through the word of Christ . . .

She reads. She listens. To the word of Christ. It speaks.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word “penetrates . . . and judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”

The healing comes through that Word of God – penetrating and judging her thoughts and her attitudes.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self . . . to be made new in the attitude of your mind and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make very effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “Be imitators of God; be filled with the Spirit.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word brings healing and the healing brings love – love between a daughter-in-law and a father.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “Now you are light in the Lord. Live as a child of light . . . goodness, righteousness, and truth.”

No longer does it matter who was right or who was wrong – what had been said or what had been done.

Her soul is free from the pain. In pain’s place is love with its goodness, righteousness, and its truth.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

More years go by. Years of love.

The Word says, “Make the most of every opportunity.”

And at the end, she is chosen for the opportunity.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It is a cold February day. The father is old. His health is worsening; he is giving up.

God speaks to her. Go, He says. Talk to him about Jesus.

“No,” she says. “Send someone else.”

But again, God says, Go. Talk to him about Jesus.

And so she goes and speaks to the father. And on that cold February day, the Son shines through the window of the father’s hospital room, as he confesses his faith in the Lord Jesus.

And the next day, the family gathers around the father and says, Goodbye,

while Jesus says, Welcome.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Scripture from NIV:

Romans 10:17

Hebrews 4:12

Ephesians 4:23, 24

Ephesians 4:2, 3

Ephesians 5:1, 8, 9, 16, 18

April 3, 2013March 5, 2014

And now it is a Wednesday . . .

It was a Wednesday. The first Wednesday in April. The sun was shining. Evidence of spring saturated the outdoors and permeated the halls of Maple Lawn. As I neared her room, I saw the hospitality “cart” outside her door – a lovely collection of cookies and orange juice, coffee and fruit – a “notice” that the family would need sustenance – as we would watch and wait.

Several of us were there – my sister and brother, some cousins, my aunts and uncle. We went in and we went out. Heads slowly shook in sadness and in heartbreak. Aides and nurses came in and stood by her bed. They cried. We could do no more to keep her here with us. My mother was dying.

She’d put up a good fight. She wasn’t created to die, most obviously detected in her steadfast resolve and perseverance. God had originally made her for eternity. It’s the story of the Garden of Eden and of love and of perfection – of sin and of death. It’s the story of a body that should have been perfect and could have been perfect, but of course, wasn’t. It’s the story of a downward spiral of health problems and a broken spirit that just gave up, especially in the last month.

For years, she had plodded forward – literally plodded forward. Her crippled feet and shrunken stature, stenotic spine and withered muscles, cancered blood and arthritic bones impeded her once vibrant step, year by year, month by month, and day by day. Only one purpose kept her going – Wayne. She couldn’t leave him. He needed her. Til death do us part, they had said, and a promise is a promise. And the love grew stronger than the promise. So she loved him and served him until the day he didn’t need her any longer. And that day was one month before.

So it was a Wednesday. The first Wednesday in April, one year ago now. And I needed that lovely offering of sustenance on the hospitality cart, as I watched and waited and sang to her and whispered sweet memories in her ear, and finally observed her right hand lift to meet His as the Lord took her home. And in the middle of that Wednesday, the promise of spring and new life was stronger than the heartbreak of holding my Mama’s broken, still body, and my sustenance was found in more than cookies and orange juice, coffee and fruit.

And now it is a Wednesday. The first Wednesday in April, one year later. Today, I again need that lovely offering of sustenance – and I find it in God’s Word.

I remember my mother – and I think of faithfulness, of a promise, of unending love, and of perseverance. I cherish the memory of the one who gave me life – of the one who showed me, through example, her faith in God. I hear her whispering, “You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. . . earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Psalm 73:23-26)

March 30, 2013March 24, 2014

This Nana has no regrets. Only precious memories.

I awoke this morning to an empty house – very empty! And very quiet!

No little girl stood beside my bed, looking at me and asking the usual Saturday questions: “Where’s Papa? At work? Can we get up, Nana? I’m not sleepy any more.”

I made only one bed this morning – my own. Jacob’s, Ben’s, and Kaylee’s had not been slept in.

I stepped into a clean kitchen and watched the CBS Morning Show instead of Saturday morning cartoons.

I leisurely drank coffee and fixed my own breakfast instead of Kaylee’s.

I rushed to the laundry room to start the first of many loads today, but I found only a few odd socks. I won’t be washing any laundry today.

Then I wrote my grocery list and found it to be very short.

I feel very strange and terribly lonely. The house is not the same.

~~

I’m remembering the last 13 months when the house was filled with dolls and Legos, backpacks and half-eaten granola bars. I rescued socks from between the sheets and I sorted outfits for each day of the week. The fridge held large jugs of Powerade and organic 2% milk; the pantry was packed with Honey Nut Cheerios and Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips; and the freezer was stocked with Cookie Dough Ice Cream.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Laundry room hooks held fleece jackets and hoodies; its shelves were stacked with boots, shoes, and baseball cleats; and its hampers overflowed with dirty jeans and white t-shirts. Crumbs covered the floors under the kitchen stools; Happy Meal trinkets bounced from one room to another; and blobs of blue toothpaste splattered the bathroom counter.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

This Nana took on the traits of Mommy. (It’s an awesome combination!) And Papa added the role of Daddy to his character. (It’s a huge responsibility!)

The savings account dwindled.

The vehicles’ odometers soared as “The Road Less Traveled” became “The Road More Traveled” – back and forth between home and schools 24 miles away – three or four times a day.

Evenings were filled with baseball games, homework and baths, snuggling and lullabies. Weekends meant wrestling meets, visiting Mommy and Daddy, and going to church.

Nana and Papa forgot that they once went out to dinner, sat quietly and talked, and watched old movies on television. (They were too tired to remember such times.)

And yesterday, I sorted some last-minute thoughts and turned them into reminders:

“Kaylee, here are your little pink wash cloths. I’m packing them for you to take.”

“Benny, don’t forget to brush your teeth – morning and night.”

“Jacob, your baseball uniform is washed and ready for your first game next week.”

And last night, they took that long-awaited step from our house to their own house with mommy.

So today, as I sit alone, I’m remembering the last 13 months, when this house has been a refuge and a haven of unconditional love to three adorable grandchildren, and I’m feeling strange and lonely in this empty, quiet house – a house that is not the same.

But this Nana has no regrets. Only precious memories.

March 17, 2013February 11, 2022

Dear Daddy,

It’s been a year now since that sad Sunday morning when I sat beside you, singing, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus; there’s just something about that name,” while you took your last breath. Larry, Becky, Mama, and I, looked on, Mama holding your hand – our hearts breaking to let you go.

It was the greatest loss I’d ever known.

It was a day I had never wanted to live.

I knelt by your casket and sobbed. As the days passed, I thought I had cried so much that I couldn’t cry any more, but that didn’t happen.

The crying continued.

For a long time.

At about six months, I reached a turning point in my grief. I missed you just the same, but it didn’t hurt as much – I didn’t cry as much – and I found more joy in the memories.

But as this March 4 approached, one year later, that past Sunday morning became vivid in my mind again – like it was yesterday. My thoughts and prayers have been on my new grandbabies – two precious boys born since you left us – babies you would just love to see – babies you will love to meet someday: little Luke who Kristen’s youngest, and little Jackson, Matt’s youngest. I can picture you admiring each of them, pride in your face. I can see the tears in your eyes when you learn that baby Luke needs surgery. I can hear your broken voice in prayer, crying out to the Father you have trusted since you were young.

So toay, I reach in my jewelry box and lift out your wedding ring, sliding it onto my necklace chain. And I wear it close to my heart through these days of delivery and surgery and tumult and joy. And it comforts me to know my Daddy is near and that your prayers are still in a jar, going up as incense before our God. And I thank God for your faithfulness. But I mourn your loss.

So you’ve been on my mind a lot now, Daddy, one year later, and I’m wondering if or when the pain of losing you will ever go away. At first, a year ago, I thought, It won’t be long until I’ll see him again. The Lord will come soon. But now it’s been a year – a long year, and it seems like a long time before I’ll see you again, and I’m yearning for you.

I’m remembering a Daddy who made Christmas fun and who gave me beautiful Valentines.

I’m remembering a Daddy who brought us running when you emptied the noisy change out of your pants pockets on Friday evenings after work.

I’m remembering a Daddy who sat at the table late in the evening and ate Mom’s homemade bread soaked in cold milk.

I’m remembering a Daddy who worked all week long – then spent cold winter Saturdays cutting, hauling, and stacking firewood to heat the big house through the week ahead.

I’m remembering a Daddy who bought a new camera to take pictures of his daughter, the homecoming queen.

I’m remembering my tender-hearted Daddy who mourned the loss of his mother, and father, and brothers, and sisters, and brothers in law, and sisters in law, and on and on – a very compassionate man whose heart ached for those who were hurting, a man who wanted to do good for others – a man very much like Jesus. So I know you understand how I’m feeling now, Daddy.

Daddy 1966 — My Daddy
Wayne Olen Nutt
June 26, 1924 – March 4, 2012

So, now, I will continue to miss you and mourn you, but now I will also delight in the memories. I will strive to carry on those special customs and traditions you began in me and in my family – the love of nature and the simple life – the love of family and neighbors and friends – and the love of Jesus and those He came to save.

I will watch Jacob mowing the lawn – your lawn – with the John Deere – your John Deere. I will watch Benny playing in the woods by your lane. I will watch Kaylee riding her bike around your driveway.

And I will watch the eastern sky – and as I watch, I will listen for the shout! – when our Lord will bring you and Mama with Him and catch me up to join you – and we’ll all be together again!

Goodbye until then, Daddy, and kiss Mama for me.

With love from your little blonde girl.

March 13, 2013April 21, 2015