Closer to the Rescuer

I have this dog named Max. Max technically belongs to the whole family, but everyone knows he is my dog. Max follows me everywhere I go. I often find myself turning around in the kitchen and tripping over him. When I sit down to read, he lays on my feet. (Yup, he's right next to me as I type this.) If I go upstairs for something, he sits at the bottom of the steps looking up until I return. We're not really sure why he has attached so closely to me. We rescued him when he was a couple years old. Our theory is that he had not always been treated well before coming to our family. Since I was the one who picked him up, brought him to our home, sat on the floor with him, reassured him, fed him and basically loved him before anyone else came home, we think he bonded most strongly with me.

I had to take my Max to the vet yesterday because he is sick. Abby went with me and said to me, "Make sure the vet knows he's your dog." So now I'm giving him antiobiotic pills (tucked into bites of hot dog) and monitering him carefully. My mind started thinking about his attachement to me yesterday and a spiritual comparison struck me. It might be a bit of a stretch...so get ready to leap with me.

Jesus Christ is my Rescuer. He has rescued me from the condemnation of sin and the power of Satan (who we know seeks only to hurt and destroy). I should stick as close to the side of my Great Rescuer as my dog sticks close to his rescuer. My Great Rescuer watches over me and treats my ailments. Sometimes He treats me with soothing balms of Scripture, sweet words from songs or friends. But sometimes the medication is hard and unpleasant and it's not tucked into tasty circumstances. But it's always for my good and His glory. He wants me to stay close to Him because that is the safest place for me. So my prayer yesterday and today has been, "Lord, keep me so close to You that I don't take a step unless You are next to me, leading me."

Wisdom from the Off-Road

Funny how things your kids are internalizing evidence themselves in everyday conversations. Take our family outing to the Off-Road Races at the Hudsonville Fair this week. I was sitting between Caleb and Micah on the top row of the lower set of bleachers with a view of the first dirt ramp in front of us. On the other side of the track, a car had gotten hung up on the bank and the others were taking the opportunity to gain ground and speed past it. Caleb leaned over to me and said, "If I were driving, and someone got their car stuck on the side, I would slow down and bump them with my car to help them get loose. Because helping other people is more important than winning. Having compassion makes you a real champion, not winning a race." Well, it seems my son does not have much of a future as an off-road racer...but it's one life lesson I hope he keeps believing. That showing care for others is more important than material things or social status.

We had a wonderful family evening that night. Lots of laughter and simply enjoying each other. It brought back such memories of when my parents took us to the same fairgrounds thirty years ago. As we were leaving, walking hand-in-hand through the crowd I remembered walking hand-in-hand with my dad leaving those grandstands. I remembered how I tried to match my steps to his; the length of stride, the pace, the little bounce he had in each step. I had forgotten about that brief pause and bounce preceeding each new step. Dad hasn't walked like that for over two years now. Now I see him walking with a limp; some days rather slight, other days resembling a stagger. But God is showing me things about Dad's spiritual walk. As his physical strides struggle at times, his spiritual walk grows only closer to the God he is leaning on for daily strength and delight. The thought crossed my mind that I want to have my spiritual steps match my father's steps. I want to be wholly committed to serving God and to trust in Him no matter what touches my life. Who would have anticipated that the races would have challenged and blessed me so?

Fancy Grandma

One of the blessings I've enjoyed for the past thirty years is my Grandma Vanden Toorn. Margie married my grandpa when I was eight and moved here from the golden cornfields of Iowa. Perhaps in another post I'll write about my first grandma, Marie, but this is about Grandma "Van". She has always been my "fancy" grandma. When we would go to their house for Sunday dinner after church, she always served lunch with nice place settings, seasonal themed napkins and a covered butter dish with a butter knife. At home we just plunked the plastic tub of butter on the table. (These days, I take after my mom, not grandma.) Grandma always looked put together and regal. She seemed to glide down the center aisle in church wearing her big hats.

I have many special memories of time with grandma. She and grandpa had us stay overnight at their house and we would watch slides on the living room wall as she wrapped my hair in rag curlers. There was also the time we got a trampoline and she tried it out with us kids. She makes my favorite sugar cookies. Her secret is to use a potato masher to put the print on the cookies and then add sprinkles. (Fancy ones of course.) She is very creative with a crochet hook and made dolls for me to play with and starched fans to hang on my bedroom wall.

Grandma has one of the most engaging laughs I've ever heard. Watching her over the years, she has a great sense of humor and knows how to be a little bit silly, even at 80 years old. I have appreciated the godly model of confidentiality and loving commitment she has demonstrated. She cared for grandpa through years of heart trouble and surgeries. The past year has found her taking care of him at home for as long as she could before his dementia necessitated his moving into a care facility before his eternal home-going in May.

Yesterday, grandma set out with a U-Haul and her children, retracing her path to Iowa. Her health and age have made it time for her to return to her home state for whatever years God grants her. Spending the past week helping pack up her life here has been bittersweet. I will miss my fancy grandma very much. But I am so thankful for how God has blessed our lives with her. I'm also rejoicing in the knowledge that while trips to Iowa won't be frequent, in the blink of an eye, we'll be together forever and ever, praising our wonderful Lord who brought her to our family for a time.