It was one of the best trips we had ever made to Illinois. Considering we were heading down for Grandpa’s funeral, and responsible for the sermon, the music, and one third of the pallbearers, made the peaceful 10 hour drive that much more amazing. We sang, read scripture, and started reading aloud a new book, The Power of Crying Out, by Bill Gothard. Long drives are great for starting those projects you’ve been meaning to get around to…
Quietly we hauled all of our belongings for the next few days into my folks’ vacant house in Prospect Heights. As they were snow-birding in Florida, there were none of the usual raucous greetings that six boys and one girl (and their parents) can generate. Yes, all was calm, until I began to prepare for tomorrow’s visitation by hanging up our good clothes.
“Kelvin Kraemer, where is the suit bag?!!!!†But even before he came running in response to my abnormal scream, I knew exactly where the suits were. All seven of them: five hundred miles away in Minnesota. For the next several minutes, I pitched a very uncharacteristic fit, alternately blaming everyone, and wailing how we were going to appear at the funeral proceedings dressed in our jeans and sweat pants! My husband and children stared in stunned silence at first, not accustomed to seeing their wife and mother carry on this way, and also taking in the seriousness of the situation. Even if we drove back to Minnesota to get them, we would not be back in time for the 2:00 visitation tomorrow. And besides, Kelvin was still “receiving†the sermon and needed more time to work on it. It was too late to box them up for overnight shipping. Kelvin made several calls to our neighbors “up north†to ask if any trucks were coming to Chicago area. We also left a message with my sister, Nancy, who lives only a few miles from my folks. Then, as a chorus they began to reassure and comfort me that God was not surprised, and we could talk to Him about it.
“We just read about ‘the power of crying out’†they reminded me. I was interested in “crying out†all right, but not to God. I found continuing my tantrum almost enjoyable. Finally, half in desperation, and half in amazement at the faith my children, I submitted to joining the family in a now late night session of crying out to God. Afterwards I admitted that I felt silly asking God for suits when life abounds with much weightier matters. That is, until my young teen-age daughter spoke up.
“Maybe God is preparing us to pray for harder things in the future,’ she offered thoughtfully. I pondered her comment long enough to answer a call from my parents’ neighbor, Rosemarie.
“We just got home and see that you’ve arrived from Minnesota,†came a rather cheery voice for 10:30 PM. “Is there anything you need?â€
“No,†I lied, unwilling to go into details. “Everything is fine.â€
I awoke early the next morning and peered into the closet, wondering if God had granted our one son’s request to physically translate them 500 miles. Not this time. Then the phone began to ring.
“Kelvin, we missed four trucks heading for Franklin Park (the very site of the funeral) by thirty minutes,†came the voice from Minnesota. “I’m sorry, but we’re out of options.â€
At 8:00 AM came a response from Mom Kraemer, who, now recently widowed, had enough to deal with today.
“I can send your brother Steven out with my charge card; go buy new suits at Kohl’sâ€
Buy new suits?! Seven of them?! My frugal mind reeled with the suggestion. Kelvin and our 19 year old son Joseph had just recently purchased new suits. Maybe a thrift store might have some. I called Kohl’s anyways. They don’t sell suits. I decided to call back Rosemarie and tell her the truth.
“I don’t know where any thrift stores are, “she replied. “Why don’t you try the Catholic Church?â€
“The Catholic Church?†I wondered. “How would that help?â€
It was now 10:00AM. Four hours to go…and no suits to wear. The suggestion was made to cry out to God as a family again. We did. The doorbell rang. It was my sister Nancy, who happened to have the day off. She also happened to have three suits in her hands.
“I got your message last night,†she shared. “But the line was busy and then it was too late to call you back. I brought you suits from Joe(her husband) and Michael( her son). Try them on.â€
Amazingly, Kelvin could fit in Michael’s, and Joseph fit in Joe’s. Two down, five to go.
“Did I tell you what I found in the third suit?†asked Nancy. Joe hasn’t worn this old pinstripe for ten years. I was going through the pockets before donating it to charity and I found $300.00! I’ll give you $100.00 to help you purchase any remaining outfits. But first, I have a few calls to make.â€
And with her directory for St. James Catholic Church, she began to call her friends with sons who might have suits. At 11:00AM, we drove to the first house. Joshua and John each picked up suits, ties and a few dress shirts. A mother of seven sons dropped off some more clothes. Three more to go. Never finding the thrift stores, I finally submitted to purchasing the remaining pieces at the local Wal-mart with the “pocket change†from my sister. We shoppers raced home with our treasures by 1:00PM. After rapidly downing the lunch left for us by Kelvin and Joseph, we were dressed and on our way to the visitation by 1:30!
What a story we had to tell! And tell it, we did. To our relatives, and funeral guests. To our neighbors in Illinois, and in Minnesota. And now to you, the readers of this letter. Never underestimate the Power of Crying Out!
“The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are attentive to his cry.â€
Psalm 34:15