Unwelcome Alarms

I need to go in reverse a little and write about the repeated warnings God’s been giving me. There were three dreams with the same message (see former entries in April and May), sandwiched by the two bookend encounters with a warning sign at Beaver Pond [The Little White Sign, July 06, and The Fallen Sign, May 07].


Then there was a real live experience that woke me sharply at 3am one night last week.

I had thrown some old bank papers and checkbooks into the fireplace before going to bed. (Why buy a shredder, when I have this huge stone feature in my living room?) I thought they had long turned to ashes when I finally shut out the lights and headed to bed at 2am. Unbeknownst to me, the thick dockets and bound records merely smoldered. The smoke crept gradually up the stairs to my bedroom while I slept and then set off all the alarms simultaneously. When I opened my eyes, the shrill beeping filled every room of the house!

I rushed downstairs to check the house, relieved that there was no fire where it shouldn’t be, but the smoke was burning my eyes and making me cough. (Okay, it didn't look anything like this photo, but this was the only good smoke picture I could put my hands on. I just wanted to get you thinking about the awful loathsomeness of gagging smoke.)


Trying to keep my hands over my ears, I ran around opening doors and windows to air the place out. I was hoping that a skunk or bat wouldn’t find these doors open and help themselves to come in.

But a bigger, more immediate concern overshadowed that momentary thought. How do you turn OFF these blooming alarms? Waving towels in front of them used to work whenever we had damp firewood, but this is the first time the upstairs alarms had ever been set off. They’re mounted on 12-15’ ceilings up there and I don’t have a ladder in the house that will reach any of them.

Oh Lord! Why did you wake me in the middle of the night? What am I supposed to learn from this? Do I have to call the fire department to get these things disengaged, I wondered. I muttered to myself as I went from room to room waving smoke out and fresh air in, hoping the alarms would clear.

I flashed back to nights when we were awakened by strange sounds or bad dreams. Frank and I would be up together scuttling around in our flip flops and holding flashlights. We would usually end up making jokes and making it fun. When rain would blow in the kids’ rooms at night, we would end up all together on the living room floor, giggling and snuggling together. Even in hard times, I remember it being so joyful when we were all together.

Now, it’s just me, and my heart’s pounding. I have to figure this out or I’ll never get back to sleep, and this doesn’t feel very fun! Lord, be my husband, please help me.

The alarms finally slowed down and stopped after about twenty piercing minutes. I closed all the doors and windows and shuffled back upstairs. Crawling back under the covers I thought, Phew! That was adrenalin-rushing, mind-blowing, ear-piercing excitement for the middle of the night. What on earth? Then, I started talking to Jesus about it.

Lord, I’m glad I have smoke and carbon alarms in the house, but I’m not happy when they all go off at once… especially not when I’m sleeping. This is really bad timing, Lord. Too bad it didn’t happen at a more convenient time, I whined. I really need some sleep!

Is there ever a good time for alarms to go off? the Lord whispered.

That’s when it hit me. Did God orchestrate this whole event just to amplify what He’s been trying to say all along?

We despise warnings. We don’t want to be roused from the comfort of our beds. Oh, if the whole house was engulfed in flames, I would have been grateful for that piercing sound, but not when it’s just for a smoky fireplace.


***

Perhaps this resembles the church mentality. The end times are coming, sure, but NOT YET! Not now! Why can’t we just continue on as we’ve always done in the warmth of our own homes and the comforts of familiar patterns? We still have our programs and new semesters and monthly bills to think about. We’re busy celebrating our birthdays and holidays and planning our retirement. Lord, don’t interfere with our plans. This is bad timing.

I want you to come, and I sure want to go to heaven, but not today Lord. I’m too busy. I'm too comfortable. Please don't rouse me from my bed.

Keith Green sang such powerful prophetic messages to this generation. His lyrics practically screamed to our hearts about the need to be real with Christ, practical in how we spend our lives and meet needs around us. We need to wake up!

Jesus came to your door, but you, you've left him out in the cold.

God bless you, be at peace, and all heaven just weeps!

Jesus rose from the dead, and you, you won't even get out of bed!

How can you be so dead when you've been so well fed?

How can you be so numb, not to care if they come?

RELAY FOR LIFE, MAY 18

11pm
I'm just back from the relay for life event at Tri-county high. I've never done anything quite like this before. Oh, I've done the hike for the hungry. We marched more than 20 miles to Boston, but this was different. This was Frank's birthday, and for me, it took on a lot more meaning than any charity event I've ever done or supported.

Besides trying to dress for the raw and rainy weather, I prepared myself with the choice of some significant jewelry I wore. I had my Psalm 23 bracelet on my left wrist, always a reminder of the presence of God walking with me. Around my neck, my own wedding band encircles a triple diamond tier representing the three decades I had Frank in my life. I also wore my mother’s ring, one diamond had been my grandmother’s, and one my mom’s—and I lost them both to cancer. On my right wrist I wore a beautiful emerald crystal bracelet made by Laurie, a dear friend who has been battling cancer for years.

Lastly, I carried a piece of paper in my pocket with the names of everyone who supported me. Counting spouses there are thirty names including one anonymous donor, and all were with me in spirit and in heart. The majority couldn’t give a lot in dollars but I can tell you that even the smaller amounts meant a lot to me and really added up to make a difference, too. Over $1000 came in and I am grateful to everyone who made that happen. Their names are still scrolling on my web page on the cancer site in a little section called “honor roll”. And let me take this opportunity to say another HUGE THANK YOU to all of you dear friends.

In all these symbols, I wonder if this is like the priests of Levitical times who bore the names of the 12 tribes of Israel on their garments and engraved them into the jewels they wore. I love the depth of meaning this portrays. I have a strong ‘hunch’ God’s into it too.

I met the kids for dinner at the Rome, a favorite old Italian place in the heart of downtown. Frank and I used to go there for date nights because he knew I loved the lacey curtains and candlelight. Together we enjoyed the great food and friendly wait staff on many a special occasion.

Tonight it was with Nate and Naomi and their kids, and Isaac and Jen. (Jesse & Bri had to stay home with little Jaden Frank, their newborn.) I’m SO so grateful that some of them could be there with me to remember Frank’s birthday.

Afterwards, Isaac and Jen went with me for the actual walk. We dressed for outdoors but heavy rain forced the whole event indoors. At first, it was much more upbeat than I thought it would be, but maybe that was because of all the high school kids. There were a few speeches and raffles and a DJ providing music for the walkers. It reminded Isaac of his own high school days when they would have skate nights in the gym, but I’m so glad they stayed and walked beside me. They may never know what their hugs and support meant to me.

All the luminaries were spread around the gym floor and in the center they formed the word HOPE. Reading them as we circled the laps moved me deeply. Bags were written with the names of loved ones. Words like, ‘Miss you Dad’, and ‘Love you Mom’ or, ‘my Nana’ and ‘we’re praying for you’ barely convey the depth of pain and loss with true justice. Isaac and Jen helped find our luminaries and we put them all together in a little row.

Then the mood changed considerably. The DJ took a break and a lone bagpiper walked through the middle of the rows playing softly as the lights went out. Then the high school band played a violin memoriam piece for those who “lost the battle”. We were sitting right there in the corner near our names and wished with all my might that Frank was there. I could see the words we’d written, ‘Miss you Papa’ and “my best friend and husband of 31 years”, “Frank”, from where we sat, and the tears streamed down my face. Not just for us, my kids who lost their father, and losing my best friend, but for every one of those names on every one of those luminaries. Each one represents a precious soul and a family that has been torn apart, a beloved life cut short.

The survivors were called up to do a lap or two around the track as we applauded them, and there were more tears. Young and old, some holding hands, some crying, they paraded by holding little lights. For me, I wondered what it would be like to have Frank in that round, too. Oh my, it was more than I expected. Why couldn't he have been a survivor instead of a name on a bag? I tried to picture what he would be doing, and I longed with everything in me to see that smile of his. I know, the day will come. I will see him again. But sometimes I wish it were sooner. I wish it could be now, Lord.

I saw a few people I knew there and had a couple friendly conversations, but basically the whole gym was full of strangers--volunteers, grandparents, teenagers, men and women and scattered children. Yet, I could see the familiar expressions in many of their eyes. The brave and hurting. I recognized the agony of all who have been touched with the battle against cancer. In reality, we may not know each other’s names and stories, but we are united, this little assembly. This is a sect of humanity that is trying to fight a common enemy with our heads held high. There was something very solemn and sacred about that. Grief not only isolates, but I found out tonight that it also unites people.

It is my prayer that all our combined efforts and the cries of our hearts, with all the silent tears that fell tonight, will be gathered together and carried before God’s holy throne by angels.

I pray God will be pleased to grant us the cure to this horrible disease called cancer.

And to all who supported me, thank you and God bless you.

The fallen sign

A few days after the third dream, I had a little time to read at the lake and the sun came out fully in the late afternoon. I went back to Beaver Pond, a place of quiet solitude where I used to read and write last summer.

I carried a water bottle, my book and Bible to the edge of the pond. I sat down and started reading, aware of little birds and the voice of some kids walking along the sand.

One of the boys spotted something at the water’s edge and called out, “Hey! What’s that? A basketball hoop?” The two brothers ran right past me to discover something lying in the shallow water. I couldn’t believe it. They had seen the sign that I wrote about last year. Somehow it was knocked down and just left there protruding slightly from the water.

“What does it say?” they asked curiously. The old familiar words, ‘caution deep water drop off’ didn’t seem to make much sense or carry much relevance to these youngsters. It’s funny, I was thinking, they could have asked me. I was right there in ear shot and knew exactly what it said and what it meant. I remember when the sign was attached to a long line of buoys, delineating the places where the deep water ran. I'd even written an article about it last summer! [The Little White Sign, July 06] But they didn’t ask.

Instead, the older brother decided to jump on it, roller board style, but it didn’t offer much of a ride. With all his weight he tried to snap it, but it wasn’t breaking. He pounced on it over and over, hoping for some exciting reaction. A snap, a break, but the sign held firm. Quickly bored with its potential for fun, they strolled away and meandered down the beach looking for something more interesting to do. Truly, this is a disregarded warning sign--nothing but an unwanted bit of useless information. They left it lying in the sand.


Watching their backs and their slumped shoulders as they walked away, it struck me. This is how our generation too often treats the Word of God. Once it stood plainly, marking the edge of the drop off. Then it began to be degraded, removed from schools and people’s hearts.

We are a people who have been systematically discarding and disregarding the Word of God. We have despised the warnings. Churches have closed, clergy has fallen into one sad scandal after another, and the house of God has fallen into disrepair just as this sign has been trampled in the sand. Some try to destroy it, but it can’t be broken. God’s Word will hold true and stay strong under attack. The day will come that no one will remember there was a drop off, or a sign that in clear red letters tried to warn the passersby. Many won't know it until they stumble into the dark waters and find that there is no life saver in reach. It will be too late.

God doesn’t seem much fun, so humanity has drifts on by. Some may have tried church, halfheartedly attempting to jump-start a spiritual life with a prayer or two. But whatever the expectation, He didn’t seem worth the time of day. Upside down words don’t make much sense and don’t seem worth deciphering. It's not near as exciting as a basketball hoop to a couple of boys.

The clear red letters of the Lord’s Word can be easily understood to those who ask. There is help available, right within ear shot, but no one asks. The Lord promised the Holy Spirit to those who ask him and wisdom to those who seek it, but they don’t bother. I wonder if the day's coming that it will even be hard to find someone who knows and remembers the words, or the days that they stood proudly in public places?

This little episode left me reflecting again on the three dreams I’ve had. All the repeated warnings in the world can’t effect a soul unless they have the honest heart of a seeker.

The Lord and his prophets have been calling out in the streets and villages, “Let him who has an ear hear what the Spirit says! Today is the day of salvation. Don’t let it pass you by!”

Seek the Lord while he may be found, my friend.

The Third Dream: an ocean rising

May 10th

I had the third dream of warning and it came back to me the next night when I lay down to go to sleep. This time our house was located by the ocean and felt a little like Cape Cod. The house was built on a hill, similar to Wewak Hill where we once lived, overlooking the Bismark Sea. It should have been a dream come true location. Sunny skies and a crystal tropical green ocean surrounded by swaying palms seemed magical.

Suddenly the skies darkened and the waters turned hostile as the sun set. The tide started rising to alarming heights and approached the back side of the house. Waves were pummeling the sides and water was entering the rear rooms. I started saying, “It’s time to leave! We have to move quickly!” With great sadness I knew the time had come. It was time to go. Once again, it felt like no one was listening. No one was there to tell.

I woke up feeling very much alone, watching the dark deep waters rising. I was wondering how long the house could stand against that tide? How much longer do we have?


What does this mean, Lord? Why do I keep dreaming the same thing?

This third dream seems to portray the same message. I believe it is a warning that though we seem to have such freedom and such sunny skies here in America right now, the time is quickly coming that everything’s going to change. How long will the church stand when the tide of our enemies becomes fierce and rises against us? How many will be there to fight the good fight?

The Lord urged us to walk while we have the light. Soon we will have it no more.