Musings on Marriage

Tag: Psalm 23

Lie Down and Rest

Dear Daughters,

We arrived in Michigan a week ago, traveling four days from our Southern Idaho dwelling.  Everything here is green, all shades of beautiful lush greens – millions of trees, thick dark grass, luxurious rolling pastures.  As we were driving up U.S. 31 enjoying the spring-time greenery I thought of this verse from Psalm 23,

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

As you remember, Jesus calls Himself the Good Shepherd, which means we are compared to sheep in a metaphorical sense.  Being equated to sheep is not necessarily a compliment because sheep are kinda stupid, they quickly stray, are quite dependent on others and easily frightened.

In order for sheep to lie down in peace they have need of a few important requirements.  The first one is freedom from fear.  Because sheep have a herd mentality, they are skittish and easily agitated.  If even a little jack-rabbit hops from behind a bush and one startled sheep runs in fright, it can cause the entire flock to bolt into a stampede –the rest not even looking to see what caused the ruckus. 

We too are easily carried away by fear if someone speaks terror or dread – whether it be true or false, real or imagined.  It’s so easy to run with the herd, getting caught up in a mob mentality, simply reacting to the running of those around us.

Life is hazardous, unpredictable; no one knows what fears and anxieties any moment will bring.  Usually it is the unexpected and unknown that throw us into a panic.  Often our first impulse is to run from the harsh complexities of life – just like the sheep.

But if we look up, we’ll see our Good Shepherd waiting for us to turn to Him, desiring that we rest and not run.  Admitting we cannot do life well on our own, he brings peace, calm and serenity – even in the midst of a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.

As I grow older, I am finally learning that no amount of worry, control or angst ever helped any problem I had.  It only caused fear and dread.  For years I tried to solve problems on my own, figure out and rely on my own wisdom, but rarely experienced the peace Jesus promised.

Why do we always think we can change people and our circumstances? Why is it so difficult to rest, to trust God to do his work in his time? When will we ever give up and relinquish our ambitions to do God’s work for him?

Only when we choose to rest.

Another source of fear from which a shepherd delivers his sheep is rivalry, cruel competition and tension within the flock.  In the animal kingdom there is an established order of dominance, better known as a pecking order with chickens, a horning order with cattle, and a butting order among sheep. 

Usually a domineering, arrogant old ewe will be the boss of a flock.  She maintains her position by butting and driving other ewes or lambs away from the best grazing.  Then in turn they will use the same tactics of butting and shoving around those who are lower than they on the totem pole.

Remember those days at school when kids played King of the Mountain?  The game is probably outlawed by now, but I remember well when some strong kids would go up on a hill, others who were stronger would climb up, trying to shove and push them out of the way…

Well, I was driving around a few weeks ago and I saw the cattle version of the game, only in dairy corals it becomes Queen of the Manure Pile. 

When there’s friction in the flock, the sheep cannot lie down in rest because they always have to be standing up to defend their rights and be on the lookout for safety.  They feel the need to constantly be on alert, never able to let down their guard for fear of losing out on food and safety. 

But as past-shepherd Phillip Keller says,

…one point that always interested me very much was that whenever I came into view and my presence attracted their attention, the sheep quickly forgot their foolish rivalries and stopped their fighting.  The shepherd’s presence made all the difference in their behavior.

Somehow, when the guy in charge, on a much higher status than the sheep, comes on the scene, they forget the silly scuffling and struggle for status and lie down.  Contentment and peace within the flock ensue. 

How much that scene sounds like us humans.  We try to appear as if we have it all together, put on that toothy smile and strike a confident pose, yet still we feel the need to prove ourselves – to others as well as to us.  But when we keep our eyes on our Good Shepherd, we know we are on even ground with everyone else, that without the grace of God we would be lost – a ship without a rudder, the proverbial hamster on a wheel going round and round yet arriving nowhere.

When my eyes are on my Master, they are not on those around me. This is the place of peace, says Keller.

Jesus is so kind, so merciful to make us lie down in green pastures.  On our own we would never do it because we’re too busy doing stuff.  It’s only when we lie down and rest, trust him for tomorrow, and give thanks for what he is doing today, that we are content being in the silence of his presence.I have laid in green pastures more than I would like, but looking back I see it was only in this quiet, surrendered, helpless pose that He was able to get my attention on Him and off myself.

Lie down, look at your Shepherd and be at rest.

Love, Mom

What a Friend….

Dear Daughters,

Grandma is declining.

There are people all over the world who are failing today, there were yesterday, and will be tomorrow.  Why does impending death not affect us unless it is someone we love, someone we have history with, someone who has deeply impacted our life?

The beautiful whistling that has been Grandma’s trademark for decades has now been replaced with moaning and groaning and cries of Oh Lord, help me, help me.  Several months ago, she was able to play piano for an hour or more at one sitting.  Today it was 5 minutes, then she needed a nap.

Mums Piano

A few weeks ago, she accused me of waking her in the middle of the night to have tea time, asking Grandpa if I woke him up as well.  She wanders around the house at 2 p.m. looking for her pajamas (which are hidden in my room so she doesn’t put them on mid-afternoon). She will often walk up to Grandpa and ask if he is her husband.  She claims that everything around her is crazy and confusing and oftentimes asks to go home when she sitting in the very house she has lived for 36 years.

Going home.

I wonder if she is looking to go to her heavenly home, the place where her mind will be sound, her new glorious body whole and strong, and she will laugh again as I remember and am reminded by the pictures dotting the hallway wall.

As Madeliene L’Engle reflects, we die many small deaths during our lives:

Our lives are a series of births and deaths: we die to one period and must be born to another.  We die to childhood and are born to adolescence; to our high school selves (and if we are fortunate) to our college selves; we die to our college selves and are born into the “real” world; to our unmarried selves and into our married.

When we have children, we die to ourselves as we give life to a totally new person.  When we as a family moved from place to place we had to die to one way of life and be born into another place and community.  When dad and I moved from Michigan to Idaho two years ago, it was yet another step in the dying to one way of life and being born into another.

There are other deaths over which we have some choice and freedom: we can choose the death of self-will, the death of self-indulgence, the death of self and the living for others.  It is through dying these lesser deaths that may make us more fully alive, not less.

Maybe if we practice these smaller deaths during our lifetime it will make the actual moment of our transition less difficult.  On the other hand, there is nothing that will make death easy.   Even though dying is natural and happens to everyone, it still stinks.

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Yesterday my friends Betty and Theresa came over to practice a trio we will be singing soon – the words of What a Friend We Have in Jesus to the tune of The Rose.

For the past few days I had been having a difficult time doing my work here, the emotions of the end-of-life care weighing heavily.   But singing those words with friends helped my spirit to soar, reminding me again about the necessity of giving my griefs to Jesus.  They are not mine to bear alone:

What a friend we have in Jesus,

All our sins and griefs to bear

What a privilege to carry

Everything to God in prayer

Oh, what peace we often forfeit

Oh, what needless pain we bear

All because we do not carry

Everything to God in prayer.

 I consciously talk to Jesus throughout the day, but sometimes I need people to help carry the load by singing with me, coming for lunch, stopping to chat, listening to stories – some funny, some sad, some frustrating.  Even though I have Dad to help with the work – staying behind while I go away, shopping,  listening to and encouraging me – I need more.  I need a community.

Thankfully, God has provided for us.   Yes, it is still lonely at times but we all have those times, the simple nature of being human.  I am grateful to you, my daughters, for your part in lending me your ears, your time, prayers and encouragement.

Givethanks

 

Dad brought Grandma into the living room yesterday while Betty, Theresa and I were practicing.  She sat quietly, her face expressionless throughout the entire song.  After we finished she shouted out Amen! the best applause we could have been given.

I admit in the past when friends of mine have shared with me the end-of-life stories of their parents, I had listened but not really understood what dying is all about.  Now, however, Jesus is graciously teaching me how to care, not only for Grandpa and Grandma, but to feel the pain of others going through similar times.

At night, I often tuck Grandma in bed and pray Psalm 23 over her.  After I finished the other night she asked,

What is your name?

I replied, Shari.

She said Thank you, Shari.

 Even though she doesn’t remember who I am, she is appreciative for all I do most of the time.  Sometimes, however, when I get her up to walk the hall a few times she calls me a slave driver – in jest I hope.  Just a few weeks ago, she was able to walk all the way down the lane and back.

We may have months, maybe less, with Grandma – no one knows.   In the meantime, Dad pointed out this verse to me the other day and it brings me comfort:

It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting,

For death is the destiny of every man;

The living should take this to heart.   Ecclesiastes 7:2

 It is good to keep eternity in the forefront of my mind.  I think it helps me live better today.

Love, Mom

Shepherd (2)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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