If you are lucky enough, you have someone like her in your life

 

A POEM FOR NADEEN

 

I miss her.

 

Not as much as her husband, Earl, or her children, or the grands and great grands, perhaps. But I do miss her. As siblings, we were not particularly close. We grew up like only children. She, seven years older than me; my brother, Doug, nineteen years younger.

 

But when Nadeen heard her then 18-year-old brother had asked someone to marry him, she and Earl made the trek to Oklahoma to meet (check out) this beautiful, but unknown young woman. A year later and newly wedded, Dixie and I arrived at their doorstep in eastern Washington, at one o’clock in the morning, out of gas and out of money. Literally.

 

We lived with them the rest of the summer while I worked in the wheat harvests and Dixie helped feed harvest crews. Because of their generosity, we saved enough money to make the final leg of our journey to Seattle, where I began my third year of undergraduate Bible/Theology studies.

A few years later, during an occasional time out while traveling in evangelistic work, we again stayed with my sister and her family. And we had great fun together. Dixie often exclaimed it was while watching and listening to her sister-in-law she learned how to be a wife and mother.

 

In the years that followed, time and ministry separated us geographically, from both “sides” of our family, in Oklahoma and in Washington. But “Sis” was always there to welcome us when we “came home.”

Years had come and gone, when Robin, one of the three Carey sisters, called to say the end was near for their mom. At the same time, Dixie was herself weak from recent surgery, chemo and radiation treatments. Yet it was clear how important this was for her. So, making her as comfortable as possible, we drove through the Cascade Mountains to see Nadeen.

During our brief visit, we held this hand that had welcomed us into her life, once so warm and strong, now frail and cold. Together, we spoke with her at her bedside as she tried to smile and whisper words of encouragement to us. And we prayed. Then we each spent a few private minutes with her to share our love and gratefulness for her being in our lives. Late that afternoon, we drove the two and on-half hour journey home.

 

Early the following morning, the phone rang. It was Robin calling to tell us, “Mom is gone.”

 

Days later there followed a memorial service, and still later a private interment. On each occasion, Dixie was determined to be present to honor this special woman who years before, together with her husband, had come to meet the young stranger her brother said he was going to marry.

 

Exactly a year and a day after Nadeen’s passing, Dixie left us. Knowing my sister’s gift of hospitality, I imagine her among those being there to welcome my dearest friend and lover to her new home with Jesus.

 

Chances are, you may never have known my sister. But if you are lucky enough, you have someone like her in your life, someone who has always been there for you on your own sacred journey.

 

It’s November. Thanksgiving is not far away.

 

Wouldn’t you like to write him or her a note today? Or call? Or make a special Skype or FaceTime visit if you live far away. Reach out to this special person while you can. Tell them why they mean so much to you.

 

You can never be too thankful for someone who has played so important a role in your life.

 

A POEM FOR NADEEN

As we age, roles change. Someone says goodbye.

A space opens. We look around. We wait.

Who will fill the open space now?

The truth is, no one.

Like a fingerprint or an eye print.

The space is unique.

It will never be filled.

Not completely.

Not the way it was.

Not by anyone.

That’s what makes this space so special.

But we can try. We must try.

And so we move closer.

Together.

 

We gaze through eyes made fresh with tears.

We listen to a voice made clear and strong again.

And as we do, something happens.

Something amazing. And wonderful. And divine.

Slowly . . . in our minds and in our hearts . . . the space fills us!

And the one who said goodbye lives on still

in each of us.

And the Creator of all life reminds us

this is not the end of a life . . .

It is the beginning.

Until we meet again . . .

 

~ Ward Tanneberg / written for my sister and read at her memorial / 8 August 2014

 

 

Next week: THANKSGIVING IN SAVANNAH. A return to Georgia’s most beautiful city; where my award-winning novel, Redeeming Grace, begins.

If you enjoy Perspective, share it with your friends. Written weekly from a pastor’s heart to followers of Jesus in life’s second half. It’s FREE at www.wardtanneberg.com/blog/. Personal and practical, love and laughter, tears and triumph. It’s life in the second half.