It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age (17 page)

When my (Phil’s) wife began having seizures and was tested for Huntington’s disease, it was friends in our church who cried with us, baby-sat the kids, and even brought casseroles. God’s people, who really live for others, give us a tiny foretaste of what heaven will be like, and help provide hope down here.

Hope opens doors that despair has slammed shut. Hope looks for the good instead of camping on the worst. Hope turns problems into opportunities and fear into faith. Here are some stories of hope for the paranoid, the fearful, and those whose fridges are filled with food that has long since passed its expiration dates.

In Case You Haven’t Noticed,
This Isn’t Paradise

Happiness often sneaks in through a door
you didn’t know you left open.
John Barrymore

If you were one of the lucky ones who was handed a brochure at birth that said, ‘‘Welcome to paradise! Get ready to embark on a pain-free, problem-free journey where there will be no main course, only dessert,’’ this chapter isn’t for you. You have our permission to skip on ahead. If, however, you’re like the rest of us and all you got was a slap on the backside and a disinfectant bath from a nurse named Attila, then you may have a firm grasp of the fact that this world ain’t paradise.
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In second grade I (Phil) discovered firsthand that this world isn’t paradise. Back in those primitive times, they used to line us up alphabetically in the school hallway for a meeting with a huge nurse who wore a name tag that said B. L. We didn’t know what the initials stood for, so we called her Big Lump. Some people are kind and good. Some people smile a lot. Not B. L. She was mean. She never smiled. In fact, she looked so sour she could have probably sucked rivets off a skateboard. Thankfully my last name put me at the front of the line, so I didn’t have time to be terrified. In one hand Big Lump held a needle the size of barbeque tongs. In her other hand, she balanced the rest of it. I stepped forward, staring at the sword—I mean, needle. She jerked my sleeve up over my tiny shoulder blade, swabbed my skinny little arm, and jammed that shiny needle home. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I felt it go out the other side. I hollered loudly. I didn’t care what the other students thought. That sucker hurt! Then B. L. handed me a sugar cube to soothe the pain. As if that would help. I didn’t care what I was being immunized against, all I remember thinking was that there was no way the disease could have been worse than the precaution. But at least I did find something to be thankful for. I was glad my name wasn’t Zaccheus Zabolotney, who stood terrified at the back of that line, waiting his turn, listening to everyone’s screams as they filed by.

Whether we have time to prepare for it or not, life gives us pain. It can give us pain even when it’s trying to protect us. Believe it or not, it can also give us pain when we’re trying to do good.

When my (Martha’s) son and daughter-in-law asked if I would feed and walk their six-month-old border collie for them, I said sure. But they had one of those releaseable dog leashes that I wasn’t used to operating. I held the leash in my left hand and the control in my right. (I’ve since learned that the instructions say this is not advisable. I now know why.)

As soon as the dog hit the outdoors she took off, and I could feel the leash zip through the palm of my hand with such force, I was sure that the leash had sliced right through it. I paused briefly to look down at my palm, fully expecting to see a geyser of blood. But it wasn’t bleeding. What happened next, however, is all a slow-motion blur. Taking full advantage of my diverted attention, and too excited about seeing a neighbor boy out front to contain her enthusiasm, that dog took off like a bullet, taking me with her. I tried my best to keep up, my legs moving as fast as they possibly could, until I finally gave up and just went with it.

I don’t know how long I was airborne. In my memory it seemed about as long as one of Tinkerbell’s flights with Peter Pan, but without the grace and fairy dust. When I came back down, I was cheek to cheek with the asphalt street,
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getting a derma-peel the hard way.
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My face was scratched and bruised, my knee was scraped and bruised, and my forearms and shoulders had bruises, too. All this from doing a good deed. The dog got his afternoon walk and I got an afternoon flight. But even though I was hurt, I have to say I’ve laughed more over that incident than I’ve cried.

Things aren’t going to go perfectly for any of us. We were never promised that. But if we look hard enough at our troubles, we can usually find something to laugh about.

And if nothing else, these pains and embarrassments of life can remind us that this may not be paradise. But it’s coming.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.
Revelation 21:4

You don’t stop laughing because you grow old;
you grow old because you stop laughing.
Michael Pritchard

In order to maintain a well-balanced perspective, the person who has a dog to worship him should also have a cat to ignore him.
Peterborough Examiner

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Please don’t write telling us that ain’t ain’t a word. We already know it ain’t.

²
Sounds like a country song.

³
Sounds like a crooner song.

Best Before 1983

Don’t carry a grudge. While you’re carrying the grudge,
the other guy’s out dancing.
Buddy Hackett

Expiration dates. Most food products have them. They may be hidden under all the mold that has grown over them, but they’re in there somewhere. Even if the expiration date isn’t stamped on the packaging, common sense tells us that there is a shelf life to most food products. After a certain amount of time, they’re going to lose their nutritional value and perhaps even become harmful to us if eaten.

I (Martha) once uncovered a cucumber in my vegetable drawer that had more moss growing on it than the Swamp Thing. It had obviously lived with me well beyond its ‘‘expiration date,’’ which for vegetables is usually somewhere between the time you buy it at the grocery store and the time it petrifies.

Like that cucumber, there are other things that don’t have expiration dates printed on them, but they should.

We believe that grudges should have expiration dates. The hurt is what someone does to us. The grudge is what we do to ourselves, and if we’re smart, we’ll put an expiration date on it.

Husbands and wives should put expiration dates on some of their disagreements, too. I (Phil) once had a heated argument with my wife days before Christmas. It gave a whole new meaning to ‘‘Silent Night.’’ But whether it happened five years ago, ten years ago, or even two hours ago, if it’s already been discussed and worked through, let’s throw it out like the Swamp Thing cucumber.

Do you know we have expirations dates, too? Each and every one of us. For some of us it might be May 6, 2010. For others it could be December 1, 2014. Or perhaps even December 1 of this year. None of us like thinking about it, but we have an expiration date that only God knows. None of us can avoid it. One hundred percent of people are dying now. It’s an epidemic.

Maybe it would have been a good idea if God had stamped an expiration date on our bodies somewhere. Our behavior toward others and toward ourselves might change just a little if we had to look at that expiration date each time we looked in the mirror. We might be more patient with the people around us:

‘‘What an absolute self-centered, egotistical jerk she is! Oh, wait. It says on her forehead that she’s due to expire next week. You know, maybe I should cut her a little slack instead. Only God knows what is really going on in her life.’’

Or ‘‘I wish I had more time to spend with my son. But I’m just so busy. Wait, it says here that his expiration date is—I’m not going to the office today. I’m taking my son to the park.’’

With personal expiration dates, we would probably be a lot more forgiving of others, too.

‘‘Do you have any idea what he did? Well, let me tell you . . .

‘‘Oh, wait. It says here that I’m due to expire this afternoon. Maybe I should go a little lighter on him since God does say that I’m going to be judged in the same way I’ve judged others. Okay, never mind. Forget I even brought him up. Just pray for him, which is what I guess I should have been doing for him all along anyway.’’

There’s no telling what kind of positive behavior an expiration date might inspire in all of us. If we had a true awareness of how much longer we had, we’d let a lot of things slide. We wouldn’t stress over many of the situations that cause us so much anguish now. We would put our attention on the truly important things and not waste our time on things that don’t really matter. Who cares if someone is gossiping or lying about us? They’ve got their own expiration date to worry about. Who cares about that offense that happened ten years ago? Are we going to spend the last five, ten, or fifteen years of our lives fretting over that, or are we going to, like Tim McGraw sings, live like we are dying?

Expiration dates—we can either pay attention and let them move us to action, or we can ignore the big picture and end up throwing away far too many precious years.

This is the day the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24

Sweeter Than Honey

All I have seen teaches me to trust
the Creator for all I have not seen.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Did you know that there is a food that will never spoil? It’s honey, a personal favorite of folks like Winnie the Pooh and at least one of us. Other foods will last for years in your refrigerator without so much as a complaint or an explosion. There’s molasses, for instance, and baking soda. But for the most part, food that’s in there too long will take on a life of it’s own, and before long it will turn rotten.
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But honey is one of those miracle foods.

It’s hard to find things on this earth that will not decay.

I (Phil) have three autographed Toronto Blue Jays bats in my basement, given to me after I spoke to the team. You can get on eBay and make some good money with these. The problem is that when my sons were younger, they discovered that these bats were great for hitting rocks and trees . . . and each other.

The bats were priceless once.

Not anymore.

So it is with most of what we see around us. Look out your window now. How much of what you see will last forever? How much of what we’re investing our lives in will mold, crack, peel, rust, snap, or wind up in a landfill somewhere?

Next time you open the fridge door and find something growing in there, let it remind you of the things that will never rot, petrify, or corrode. Scripture promises that God’s Word and people last forever. And it offers great news about our inheritance:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you. 1 Peter 1:3–4

How sweet is the promise of heaven. It’s the assurance that we have an inheritance that outlasts even honey. It’s a written guarantee from the only one who hasn’t broken a promise yet.