I Will Go With You

This past weekend, a new dog came to the kennel for her first stay here.  She did very well, but she was very hesitant to go back in her kennel run.  This, of course, is not unusual.

Over the years, I've learned that taking a dog by the collar and forcing it doesn't work for many reasons.  Not only does it scare the dog, it's physically difficult.  What does work is to take the dog by the collar and walk into the kennel run with the dog.

Facing uncertainty alone can be scary.  If someone is by our side, it's not nearly as bad.  

Maybe today you need someone by your side.  Or maybe you need to be by the side of someone else.  Either way, we are showing the love of God, who promises to be with us, when we show up in person to face the fears. Sometimes we can't share our fears with another person.  Even then, we know our great God knows and walks by our side.

"Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you."

Hebrews 13:5 (NIV)

Losing the Good Ones

Mid-May, I said goodbye to Emmit.

This past Wednesday, I said goodbye to Franklin.

Emmit was around 13 years old, though he was in my home for only 18 months.  Frank was dumped here as a kitten, and was closing in on 14 years.  Emmit had a tough start in life, but he ended well.  Frank pretty much had a good life since he landed here.

Even though it seemed they lived a full life, their presence has been missed.  Another element that makes their loss a little more poignant is that they were, well, normal.

You see, the dogs and cats I've had since living in the country strongly resemble the Island of Misfit Toys.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, do a search and see.  I've had an abused dog that was so scared of everything it was an embarrassment.  At the same time, I had a three legged cat and not one but two other cats that had one eye.  And let's not forget Tilly, who, I can not stress enough, is the worst greeter of any dog ever.  

But Emmit was calm and good natured.  Frankie was mostly a dog-cat, greeting everyone, not intrusive.  Basically, my normal, likable pets are gone.

And while I feel their loss and illusion that my life is normal, if I'm honest, loving the difficult pets is not so different from loving the difficult people of our lives.  In fact, likely I am one of those difficult people.  And maybe you are too.  We don't really have a 100% likability rating (Sorry).  Maybe some of us can hide this better than others.  Maybe some of us really are more likable, but we all fall short.
In God's economy, there are no misfits, no land of unwanted toys.  We may view some people (never ourselves) as the lowest, trash, hopeless. 

But God's specialty are the ones others scorn (and even ourselves).  He even asks us to take care of them.  Who wants that job?  We are called to love the unlovable, because we're not always so lovable ourselves.  God hasn't banished us. When we run to Him, His arms are open, just waiting for us to finally figure out He's been there all along.

Having "just one dog and three cats" is ALMOST like an average pet owner number.  I haven't had this few pets in......I'm not sure how many years.  But I will pull in my flawed, four legged friends, brush aside their less charming traits, and continue to love them for however many years I may have with them.

I'll remember that God does the same with me.  

Generosity - Is It Contagious?

See those cute little bandanas around the necks of Spike and Bert (those are the dogs)?  That's where it began.  With patriotic bandanas.

Spike and Bert belong to some neighbors, who were away from home while picking up their daughter, who had just completed Marine Boot Camp.  Impressive.  A different neighbor decorated for their return home, including giving me the bandanas for their dogs so they were decorated as well.  As you can imagine, it was a festive time.

Actually, it didn't really begin with bandanas.  The neighbors I have out here on the Gold Coast of Hardin County are wonderful at looking after each other.  When I broke my shoulder in mid-May, I was the recipient of much kindness and help.

But this story began with those bandanas.  The generosity just flowed, and the next thing I knew, my lawn was being mowed (not by me), and then limbs were removed and brush was pulled.  Work I couldn't physically do even with two good shoulders.  As I watched this work, I had that rare heart-warming feeling, the one you get when someone is being amazing.  It shouldn't be rare, but it is.

I became aware of a few other instances of generous spirits pouring out, their actions done quietly.  And those are just the ones I knew about.  Even little things, like when I was cleaning my windows and one popped out and I could not move.  Fortunately a neighbor responded quickly and helped me get it back on track.

Maybe it is the "little things" that seem of no consequence, but these little things translate into a big attitude shift.  When we experience another's generosity, we very well may pass it along to the next person.

Dogs know no limit when it comes to pouring out their love and affection.  Perhaps we can start doing the same.

Emptiness

Accidentally, I typed, "Emptymess" and thought...yeah, that's about right too.

The kennel has been unusually quiet for June the last two days.  Time to do some extra cleaning (and yard work because yes, that is a weed wacker back there, charging)

Life can be empty too.  It is unsettling.  It can easily be a step on a downward spiral.   We were created wanting to fill our lives, and often we choose quick fixes, empty promises, band aids over gaping wounds....you get the idea. 

We make terrible choices.  Maybe we'll feel better if we pursue that job, that person, that bag of Oreo cookies.  We may feel full for five minutes or even a few years, but ultimately, our attempts to fill our lives with happiness, or just momentary easing of pain, fail.

Before grocery stores and vending machines, people had to spend a large portion of their day growing and making their own bread.  When Jesus showed up and told them "I AM the bread of life", people were eager to know what kind of sustenance he was offering.

Now if our vending machine runs empty, we can go to the next one, or go to the store, or have something delivered.  It's really easy.  Except we often treat our spiritual lives the same way. If we don't immediately feel satisfied or have answers in religion, we shrug our shoulders and move onto what must really work.  We thirst for more. Then Jesus said, "I AM Living Water."  What?  A well that doesn't run dry?  Is not distant?  Why yes.

Often we think that if we choose to follow Christ, we'll have to give up all the "good stuff." And we don't.  We may want to at some time, but that's not the point.  We don't ditch our vices because they make us bad people, it is because those vices enslave us in the way that Jesus wants to set us free.

And freedom is what He gives.  Free indeed.

In a few short days, the kennel will be overflowing with dogs for the holiday weekend.

The Good News is that we can choose a life that overflows with goodness, mercy, forgiveness, and deep peace.  We may still be a mess, but not an empty one.

Scratching that Itch

This is what happens when you jump on the kitchen counter.  "I told you 'no!'"

Poor Franklin.  After a stray cat's bite became infected, Frank wouldn't stop scratching the wound, resulting in the Cone of Shame.  It caused quite a stir when he first had it on.  Captain wouldn't stop staring at him.  Tilly growled.

I might have laughed.

Frank seems embarrassed, but without this drastic, visible barrier, his wound will never heal, resulting in a much worse infection.

There are those times when we can't seem to stop going back to a bad habit.  Whether it's tackling a bag of Oreos (there may be some personal experience involved here) or dwelling on difficult circumstances, sometimes we can't break the cycle.  As a result, the initial problem becomes worse.  Our minds and bodies can become infected with a poison that grows.

Sometimes it takes an intervention of friends, a barrier put up around us, a whispered word of hope, before we can stop making a bad situation worse.

Perhaps we dismiss God's word as being outdated, a fairy tale, or just impractical for our circumstances.  Yet God's people from the beginning regarded it as a kindness for how to live successfully.  As far back as Proverbs, we are told, "As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly." (Proverbs 26:11).  I don't like to admit my own level of foolishness, but unfortunately plenty of my own notions and actions have proved out this warning.

Don't get me wrong, not all our pain is a result of our foolishness.  We may find ourselves in the pit of despair through no (or little) fault of our own.  Recently I saw a group that expressed concern for those in emotional distress.  This was great, I thought as I read it. Then I saw the gist of the rest of their message was, "We don't have an answer but we do have a distraction."  Having been in the pit plenty of times myself, I found it difficult enough with the knowledge that God was with me.  It seems that despair would be twice as deep after the temporary distraction if that is all there was to offer.  When we go back to scratching our bad itch, we need someone to pull our hand away from it forever, not for a moment.

As I write, Frank is laying on my lap, purring and dozing, even with the cone uncomfortably around him, seemingly at peace with this scratch deterring measure.

A reproof to turn us from folly doesn't always come in the form of a plastic cone around our neck.  But sometimes it's visible and embarrassing.  Maybe some will laugh, stare, or become hostile, rejecting us.  But there are those who will run toward us and our pain, sitting by as we endure the difficult steps of healing.  That's the kind of person I've needed, and it's the kind of person I want to be, because that's the kind of God we have, great in compassion and mercy.

Stumbling Upon the Sacred

A couple weeks ago, some friends and I went hiking.  We enjoyed some striking views.

Slowing down, we found some fascinating fungi (or whatever it is - don't judge me).

As the border collie of hikers, nipping at my friends' heels to hurry them up of their enjoyment of nature (my usual not slowing down to appreciate the little things...blah blah blah), I was in the lead of the trail.  While my friends marveled, I paused to figure out just where the next trail marker could be.  Then I saw it, just before I was three steps on top of it.

I started doing that thing you do when you want to yell to everyone to shut up and dash immediately to where you are except you can't because that completely would defeat the purpose.  Instead, I did some strange pantomime that somehow my friends understood. While I pointed and gasped (somewhat quietly), we gathered as close as we could and beheld this one or two day old fawn.

The only word any of us could come up with (later, because we were rendered speechless not out of necessity, but out of awe) was "holy."  There was something about this unexpected find that was a treasure beyond the others.  To me, it was the visible breathing of this sleeping creature, vulnerable, and amazingly beautiful.

In the nearly two weeks since this event, I've pondered our collective reaction to this tiny life.  It makes me wonder what it was like to live in ancient Israel, going to the market or the well for bread or water.  It was difficult, every day work to secure food and water.  Then one day some of these people stumble upon this guy (who was described as physically NOT attractive) in the market, or at the well, saying these wondrous things.  Most people kept going, eager to go about their business.  But some paused, hearing a message that was unexpected, life-giving and beautiful.  "I am the bread of life."  "I am Living Water."

In the twenty-first century, those of us in the United States give little thought to our bread and water.  We get upset if we can't find the exact kind of marbled rye we like, and may drive to more than one store to get it.  Our choice of water is ridiculous.  Yet culturally we suffer from discontent beyond reason.  It's not enough to be physically satisfied. We want to be happy and by happy we mean our extremely specific definition of happy.

I'm fortunate enough to have some contacts on social media who live in Uganda.  They message me, ask how I am, pray for me and my needs.  They tell me what they need - and their requests humble mine.  They understand God's provision in a way that I honestly can not.  They are satisfied and even thankful in a way that defies my understanding.  Sometimes I think they live most days in that emotion of wonder and appreciation that my friends and I experienced with that day old fawn, an experience that was unique and rare for us.  Our "western culture" falsely leads us to believe we are the comfortable ones, but in reality, we are blinded by a poverty of spirit.  We don't know what we don't know.

If there is anything I am good at, it is to manufacture discontent and ingratitude.  Frankly, it's embarrassing.  Fortunately, I feel that God is getting through to me on this matter.  The conversation goes something like this, "What is your problem?"  Sure, Jesus is gentle, but He knows I need a clubbing to the head to get through to me, so the blunt question pierces my soul.  "Yeah, I know.  It's not easy to be this hard headed, and mostly hard hearted.  But help me, okay?"

And He does.  And He can help you too.

Not every hike is going to reveal a wonder as powerful as this most recent.  But that doesn't mean I can't be satisfied with every day provision that is beyond reason, and so much more than what I deserve.  It's not just bread, water, and wonder, but forgiveness, redemption and grace.  That's what stirs my soul to overflowing, to a deeper satisfaction than I can find on any shelf in any market place and at any well.

The Living Water awaits to provide refreshment, I just need to jump into it.

When Your Dog is NOT Lassie

There she is.  The little darling.

About two and a half weeks ago, I fractured my shoulder while trying to get my Tilly and Emmit in for the night.  It was dark, there was a tree and I landed on the trunk shoulder first.  Several people asked me what the dogs did while I was writhing in pain and trying not to pass out.

Answer:  they went back to doing the annoying behavior of ignoring me, which is what brought on my impatience in the first place.  They didn't swarm me with their paws on my arm, remorseful and sad for my pain.  In other words, they really didn't care.

Then four days later, Emmit lived his last day.

More questions, "How did Tilly react?"  My response, "I'm not sure if she's noticed."

The truth is we want our dogs to be in tune with us, to react to our pain, our grief, and our joys.  And there are those (very few) dogs who, like Lassie, show sympathy and enthusiasm in appropriate measure.  But the reason Lassie was the iconic dog of bravery and valor, saving Timmy from the well, guarding people and property in unusual fashion, is because it is so rare.  Reality, lest we forget, is a lot less than the stories we like to tell.

To be fair, I'm not exactly the owner that inspires Tilly to act more like a candidate for MENSA. Very generous friends describe her as "full of joy."  She's full of something alright. 

After walking around in a sling for more than two weeks, I've spent plenty of time being impatient with not just Tilly, but with God too.  The merry month of May brought more than its share of challenges and I was pretty irritated about it and I let my feelings on the matter be known.  I found myself wishing God was like Lassie.  I wanted a visible champion, protecting me from pain, and staying close by my side while I went through the frustrations.

After exhausting myself with my mental prayer complaints, I remembered.  While the Lord of All may not be One I can see with my eyes, His presence is there, even if it seems elusive.  I just let the pain chase away that little fact. Anger blinded me from remembering God is FOR ME, not against me.  He allows the challenges for reasons I rarely understand.  But what I do understand is His economy is very different from ours, and the means He uses to bring me back to Him (even when I'm resentful) are not bad. 

I may be an imperfect dog owner (and I am), but God is the Perfect Keeper of my soul, and my Protector.  The challenges of May are nothing compared to past difficulties, and certainly not unusual to living on earth.   ^"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; ⁹ persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." (II Corinthians 4:8-9).  Or, the Chumbawamba paraphrase I fall back on, "I get knocked down, but I get up again.  Ain't nothing going to keep me down."

Tilly has never been Lassie and will not turn into Lassie.  And I'm not worthy of being Lassie's owner, so there's that.  While I may be disappointed in my little dog, and more disappointed in myself, I can't be disappointed in God.  Well, I can, and I have been, but there's no truth to it. 

After all, He is for me.  And He's for you too.  Don't forget.