I've been struggling to get into words more of the amazing-ness of my weekend with God, which has now been more than a week ago. I'd get some beautiful sentiments down, then be stuck. Unable to move, as if locked in quicksand. Pen moves no more, brain not sending any more signals.
I managed to (try to) get into words the story of Ruth, so soul-stirringly told through the eyes of Boaz. Once I went over it, through numerous editing attempts, I finally came to the conclusion that whatever I wrote sounded so incredibly inadequate, like a caveman grunting.
I couldn't quite get into words the relationship between Boaz and Ruth, which I saw as Jesus and myself. I knew that I was going to name this post "Redemption", but seriously, there are no other words I could come up with, in any semblance of order, to express the true beauty, power and strength of redemption, all while sharing the pain it takes to get there, sacrifice, and death.
So I was so kindly reminded in prayer of a vision I had back in February. So I'll share that instead, since it more than covers anything I could express about my weekend.
Enjoy.
Cry.
Be shaken, be broken.
I was.
I close my eyes in my worship and prayer time, close my eyes to focus on the Almighty, so I'm not distracted by what my eyes see. The music plays, beautiful, intoxicating music; I've prayed with it before. No words, just music, so I can sing my own praises from my heart.
The darkness behind my eyelids gets deeper, darker, surrounding me.
As clearly as if I opened my eyes after a satisfying slumber, I see I'm not in my usual prayer place. The darkness is encircling my view, like those old-timey movies.
At first all I can see is my feet, but I'm standing on sandy, rocky soil. The darkness retreats a little more to reveal more of my surroundings; a rocky desert path, winding its way between the arid vegetation up the hill I find myself on.
I turn to my right a bit, and see that there's a large outcropping of stones and boulders. I notice it's the highest spot around me, and pay it no more attention, as my focus is drawn to the outskirts of the darkness, now quickly fading.
My gaze, in slow motion, moves beyond the stones, down the hillside I'm perched on, to take in the view of the adjacent hillside.
The entire scene opens up to my view now, I'm no longer watching an old movie; I'm in it. Breathing the dry air, feeling the blowing sand hit my skin, hearing the noises. I see the walled city off to the right, and the clouds in the vast sky. I notice the gathering on a low hilltop between the city walls and the hill I'm standing on.
As perception and memory begin to work together, the grim realization of what I'm looking at hits me: three crosses, with three men hanging on those crosses. The center cross is higher, and supernaturally, much much larger. My breath catches as I whisper, "Jesus".
I notice the crowd at the base of the crosses. I see my Savior's mouth move, I see the crown of thorns stuck into the flesh of his forehead and temple. I notice the faces in the crowd, some covered in tears and dirt. I see the roman soldiers, their mocking gestures and sneering mouths, as they tear at various fabrics, as one picks up a spear and jabs it into my Savior's side.
The clouds in the sky are gathering; getting larger, darker, closer together, and more ominous.
The music in my ears intensifies, as if all the angels in heaven are singing together in fervent premonition. Just like the soundtrack in a movie, I know something is about to happen, I know in my heart what's to come.
The clouds darken and build upon one another, following the intensity in music, until only one beam of sunlight breaks through, shining its last light on the center cross.
I see Jesus' lips move in anguish; He cries out, then drops his head onto his chest. At that same second, the beam of sunlight is overtaken by the clouds, thunder explodes, and the immense weight of God's wrath upon Christ physically shakes the earth.
I instantly feel my heart physically breaking in my chest, an incredible, gut-wrenching pain like I've never experienced before. Sorrow steals the breath from my lungs and replaces it with fire.
I just witnessed the death of my Savior...the death I deserved.
As I fight for air, and fight from downing in my own tears, I hear a voice say, "WAS IT ALL FOR NOTHING?"
I weep and weep as my view goes dark, my heart breaking, my face pouring out a tidal wave of tears, my body shaking and trembling from uncontrollable sobbing.
Overwhelmed.
Broken.
The darkness gives way again, I catch my breath, and I quickly recognize the scene. I'm back where I first was, at the top of the same hill, beside the same grouping of boulders.
I see the stone, and now see it for what it is; I know it's THE stone.
I try to take in more of the view, but it doesn't extend any further than the rocks. I notice the lingering shadows of night; it's still early morning, the sun hasn't yet risen.
All of a sudden, a sliver of brilliant white light, almost a pinhole, comes from between the stone and the rocks around it. Just a peek at first, but growing from the original speck of light. It spreads to surround the stone in the foreground. Just like an eclipse, the entire stone is now surrounded with light. I realize the stone is rolling to the side, effortlessly, until the hole left behind is exposed, emitting such a brilliant light; I can't see anything behind the Light.
The the source of Light moved out into the open. I cannot breathe, I cannot even blink. I'm afraid it will disappear if I blink.
Then, as if He knew what I was feeling as I watched, I was flooded with the most amazing feeling of peace I've ever known. That peace filled me and sustained me, strengthened me as I watched Him go.
My view went dark again, and the air rushed back into my lungs. I was completely overcome.
Whew!! I still cry!!
Redemption.
Webster's dictionary has six definitions:
1) To buy back / to get or win back
2) To free from what distresses or harms
- To free from captivity by payment of ransom
- To extricate from or help to overcome something detrimental
- To release from blame or debt
- To free from the consequences of sin
3) To change for the better
4) Repair, restore
5) To make good (fulfill)
6) To atone for
After that, there really is no way to "tie up" this post, no way to sucessfully close. There's no blanket answer, no general rule. Your individual walk and relationship with Jesus will help you finish it, for your life, for your situation, your healing.
God bless.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Step 1: Affirmation and Love
This is an absolutely joyous morning for me. Not the "wake-up-on-the-right-side-of-the-bed" joy, or "nothing-bad-or-unfortunate-or-challenging-has-happened-this-morning" kind of joy, or even "the-dog-ate-nothing-of-value-overnight" joy. I'm talking about a deep seated, despite the above things, nothing-can-steal-this joy.
I say this with the utmost confidence, deep in my soul feeling of affirmation, that there has been absolute renewal in my Source of Joy.
I just came from a weekend of retreat, a getaway with God, where He lit the spark of pure joy in my heart.
I can't express what I experienced these last few days. Something totally indescribable, unworthy of mere words. I truly experienced God.
A reconnection to the heart of the Father - His heart for me.
A weekend of moments between He & I, to heal wounds, address my insecurities, and to reestablish my identity as a daughter of the Most High God.
I went into the weekend full of expectation- I expected Him to meet me there, a place and time I could devote fully to Him. I expected Him to speak to me, not in the ways that I wanted Him to, but in the ways that HE knew best. My trust in Him, my vulnerability to what He knew I needed, opened the door for ANYTHING He might say to me.
Now, this wasn't a "Moses- burning bush" kind of weekend. It reaffirmed for me, how God loves us, by sending His Spirit to minister to those who need to hear His words, through the people He loves so much~ moment after moment.
I went into the weekend longing for my identity in Christ; something only God Himself could define. Like the artist, when He names a painting, or a sculptor, identifying and defining His treasured work. Plans and purposes...
It's like He met me at the door, waiting for me, welcoming me in. And I'm pretty sure He noticed my anticipation and excitement; He did not disappoint!!
The weekend started in worship. Holy and beautiful moments, for me, have always been ushered in by worship: be it music, be it prayers of praise and thanksgiving, be it quiet reflection of the Creator witnessed throughout creation.
The Lord must have known what a monumentous task I was, because He began his work immediately.
I sat down, very aware of my feelings of intimidation being surrounded by the women in the room. For some reason, I've always been uncomfortable around large groups of women. Maybe because I'm not a "typical" woman.
I've always strived to be me, choosing to stand out in the crowd instead of following the crowd. I'm tattooed, pierced, had multi-colored hair, long hair, short hair, definitely my own style of clothes. I'm creative (in my own mind), I'm loud, and a lot of times I'm crass and foul-mouthed. I'm the kind of woman who likes to do the unexpected. If someone tells me I can't do something, my sole motivation becomes proving them wrong. (see my military career). I'm strong- physically, emotionally, and mentally. And without getting into too many details, I'll leave it at that.
So this was the "identity" I was laying on the table; this was the "identity" I so desperately needed God's help in making it all make sense. My insecurities in the presence of so much estrogen made me feel like my femininity was lacking.
I closed my eyes, and told Him, "Lord I need You." Immediately, the movie screen played images of my life across the backs of my eyelids.
I saw moments from my younger days that spoke to my soul- moments that my conscious mind told me were the moments that shaped my identity. But as the movie of my life played before my eyes, my spirit knew that something wasn't right. My body responded by sending wave after wave of hot tears down my face, dripping into my praying hands, waterfalling onto the floor. I felt like my life was being erased...moments lived in the physical were now devoid of any meaning to me.
I cried out to God as I watched the "old me" die... "Lord, then who did you create me to be??"
I felt my heart nearly explode as He answered my soul-cry: I created you to be a WOMAN." He instantly validated my presence among these other women in the room.
I could feel women praying with me, touching me on my back and my shoulders throughout this whole weepy interchange, as if passing along their acceptance, their love; the Father's love, the Father's acceptance.
Hearing these words from the Lord were exactly what I needed to hear from Him. Even though there were no further explanations, no further details, just knowing that the Father, Creator of the Universe made me to be a woman -
Even without stunning beauty
Even without strong femininity
Even without oozing sensuality
Even without a womb.
The things I associated with womanhood - beauty, gentleness, softness, child-bearing - I've never felt like I've had.
Yet He affirmed me, a woman.
At this very second, I'm feeling a strange kinship with Abraham's Sarah... (Boy, that opens up a whole WORLD of possibilities...)
Back to women ministering to one another.
I know the Holy Spirit was busy this weekend; He sent numerous women to me, to further affirm my identity, to share His love.
Women were telling me my tattoos were beautiful.
(Really?? I never hear they're beautiful. Pretty, interesting, I get those. But never beautiful.)
Women told me my smile is beautiful. That when I smile, my whole face smiles. My eyes smile when I smile. Which makes me smile. :)
Women telling me how beautifully I worship.
(Awe.Some. 'Cause I felt like an idiot. But I didn't care.)
I also saw this weekend, women being who God created us to be. Warm, nurturing, loving. As I would look around, I would see women praying with other women. Women who were crying, being held. And so often, the one who was holding, was crying too. Sharing. Compassionate. Numerous times as I watched the intimate interactions among women, I was broken. I was reminded that women are not were not created to be hurtful, catty, spiteful, jealous. I witnessed the opposite. I remember seeing one woman be moved by God to invite another woman in tears to take communion. They didn't know each other; they weren't friends before they met this weekend. It was the most peaceful, loving gesture I'd seen in a very long time. I cried. I cried not at the moment, but I cried because I'd held such a wrong perception of women. And I realized that because I held that innacurate perception of women, my identity was thus hindered.
Each woman who stopped to pass along a message of encouragement, a message of love - I thank you. I recieved each word of encouragement from you and embraced it, because I took it as a message from our Father, delivered by the most precious creatures of His creation:
You.
I say this with the utmost confidence, deep in my soul feeling of affirmation, that there has been absolute renewal in my Source of Joy.
I just came from a weekend of retreat, a getaway with God, where He lit the spark of pure joy in my heart.
I can't express what I experienced these last few days. Something totally indescribable, unworthy of mere words. I truly experienced God.
A reconnection to the heart of the Father - His heart for me.
A weekend of moments between He & I, to heal wounds, address my insecurities, and to reestablish my identity as a daughter of the Most High God.
I went into the weekend full of expectation- I expected Him to meet me there, a place and time I could devote fully to Him. I expected Him to speak to me, not in the ways that I wanted Him to, but in the ways that HE knew best. My trust in Him, my vulnerability to what He knew I needed, opened the door for ANYTHING He might say to me.
Now, this wasn't a "Moses- burning bush" kind of weekend. It reaffirmed for me, how God loves us, by sending His Spirit to minister to those who need to hear His words, through the people He loves so much~ moment after moment.
I went into the weekend longing for my identity in Christ; something only God Himself could define. Like the artist, when He names a painting, or a sculptor, identifying and defining His treasured work. Plans and purposes...
It's like He met me at the door, waiting for me, welcoming me in. And I'm pretty sure He noticed my anticipation and excitement; He did not disappoint!!
The weekend started in worship. Holy and beautiful moments, for me, have always been ushered in by worship: be it music, be it prayers of praise and thanksgiving, be it quiet reflection of the Creator witnessed throughout creation.
The Lord must have known what a monumentous task I was, because He began his work immediately.
I sat down, very aware of my feelings of intimidation being surrounded by the women in the room. For some reason, I've always been uncomfortable around large groups of women. Maybe because I'm not a "typical" woman.
I've always strived to be me, choosing to stand out in the crowd instead of following the crowd. I'm tattooed, pierced, had multi-colored hair, long hair, short hair, definitely my own style of clothes. I'm creative (in my own mind), I'm loud, and a lot of times I'm crass and foul-mouthed. I'm the kind of woman who likes to do the unexpected. If someone tells me I can't do something, my sole motivation becomes proving them wrong. (see my military career). I'm strong- physically, emotionally, and mentally. And without getting into too many details, I'll leave it at that.
So this was the "identity" I was laying on the table; this was the "identity" I so desperately needed God's help in making it all make sense. My insecurities in the presence of so much estrogen made me feel like my femininity was lacking.
I closed my eyes, and told Him, "Lord I need You." Immediately, the movie screen played images of my life across the backs of my eyelids.
I saw moments from my younger days that spoke to my soul- moments that my conscious mind told me were the moments that shaped my identity. But as the movie of my life played before my eyes, my spirit knew that something wasn't right. My body responded by sending wave after wave of hot tears down my face, dripping into my praying hands, waterfalling onto the floor. I felt like my life was being erased...moments lived in the physical were now devoid of any meaning to me.
I cried out to God as I watched the "old me" die... "Lord, then who did you create me to be??"
I felt my heart nearly explode as He answered my soul-cry: I created you to be a WOMAN." He instantly validated my presence among these other women in the room.
I could feel women praying with me, touching me on my back and my shoulders throughout this whole weepy interchange, as if passing along their acceptance, their love; the Father's love, the Father's acceptance.
Hearing these words from the Lord were exactly what I needed to hear from Him. Even though there were no further explanations, no further details, just knowing that the Father, Creator of the Universe made me to be a woman -
Even without stunning beauty
Even without strong femininity
Even without oozing sensuality
Even without a womb.
The things I associated with womanhood - beauty, gentleness, softness, child-bearing - I've never felt like I've had.
Yet He affirmed me, a woman.
At this very second, I'm feeling a strange kinship with Abraham's Sarah... (Boy, that opens up a whole WORLD of possibilities...)
Back to women ministering to one another.
I know the Holy Spirit was busy this weekend; He sent numerous women to me, to further affirm my identity, to share His love.
Women were telling me my tattoos were beautiful.
(Really?? I never hear they're beautiful. Pretty, interesting, I get those. But never beautiful.)
Women told me my smile is beautiful. That when I smile, my whole face smiles. My eyes smile when I smile. Which makes me smile. :)
Women telling me how beautifully I worship.
(Awe.Some. 'Cause I felt like an idiot. But I didn't care.)
I also saw this weekend, women being who God created us to be. Warm, nurturing, loving. As I would look around, I would see women praying with other women. Women who were crying, being held. And so often, the one who was holding, was crying too. Sharing. Compassionate. Numerous times as I watched the intimate interactions among women, I was broken. I was reminded that women
Each woman who stopped to pass along a message of encouragement, a message of love - I thank you. I recieved each word of encouragement from you and embraced it, because I took it as a message from our Father, delivered by the most precious creatures of His creation:
You.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
For the Love of a Dog
Spencer... The most loyal dog I've ever known.
Not just loyal, but obedient. I never knew how important those qualities were.
A beautiful creature.
Bear with me as I publicly grieve the loss of my friend, and process it all. ALL.
Spence was my hub's dog, he was one of the gifts in our marriage. He was my step-son's "brother", as they were only months apart in age.
(I dread this afternoon, when I break the news. I'm crying in advance.)
We called him "airplane ears", "old man", & "squiggle-butt" - because when he got excited to see us, his tail would wag so hard that his rear-end would swing around next to his head. Hilarious to see, really.
He was, at times, so human. His compassion for us when we were hurting or sad was unbelievable.
Other times, he was so...dog.
So many memories... He just turned 13 years old last month, and I've known him for the last 8 1/2.
He adapted to all of the other animals in our house and on our farm so well. Some better than others, (any chicken. any guinea hen. mice. Levi).
He got into a fight with Levi in the driveway one day, it was by far the most brutal thing I've ever witnessed. I had no control over what was going on, I couldn't get either one to stop. Horrible.
Anyways. After bringing him home from the vet with stitches, drainage tubes in his neck, I laid him on the couch. Our cat instantly laid up against him, purring her heart out, soothing his pain.
I sat on the floor, just stroking his fur, comforting him, for hours. I remember getting up to go to the restroom, and he cried and cried and cried. I couldn't leave his side until Daddy came home.
I remember when my hub returned from deployment, after 5 months away.
I pulled into the driveway, and G hid on the side of the garage while I ran in the house to get the dogs. They ran out to greet me, and G walked around the corner... oh.my.gosh. Talk about an excited pup!! He jumped all over him, whining, crying, barking, yipping, jumping all over the place!
One winter, I let the dogs out in the morning. I watched them bee-line towards the back forty, like any other morning. Thirty minutes later we called them back to the house. The first two dogs come back, slowly dragging swollen bellies. It was hunting season, so we figured they found some one's deer-gut-bucket castoffs. When off in the distance, here comes Spencer, trotting happily... with something huge and floppy hanging out of his mouth. As he approaches, we try not to laugh out loud, seeing the deer liver barely hanging in between his lips. He stops at my hub's feet, gently lays down the liver, butt just-a-swinging, smiling up at him. "Look what I brought for you, Dad!!"
No matter how old Spence was, if it snowed here in NC, he reverted back into an energetic, spastic puppy. Jumping, hopping, spinning, flipping, putting his face under the snow, then throwing his head in the air, watching the snow fly off his head.
Spencer could dig a hole to China, as long as a mouse or mole once occupied said hole. He would dig with such purpose, fast and furious, then cram his shepherd nose all the way into the hole he dug, until only his eyeballs were exposed. We would get him riled up, instigating him, just because it was super-duper amusing!
He was the protector of our canine family; and of myself and the boy. God forbid if anyone tried to come at us - the distance between a threat and his charge grew immensely when he stood in the gap.
One night we were sitting at the fire pit with the neighbor, in the middle of the night (yes, it was one of those nights) when we saw someone walk up and down the street one time too many. We live in the country; there's no gas stations, stores or payphones. So anyone walking the streets out here is, 9.9 times out of 10, up to no good. Especially at that time of night. My hubs, the neighbor, and Spencer all crept to the road, hidden in the shadows. They met the suspicious individual in a particularly dark spot in the road, and confronted him. First, with voices. They surrounded him. Hubs was holding a flashlight on him, from high in the air. The neighbor asked him what he was doing, right at the moment the light lit up his face. All the while, Spencer was walking in a circle behind them all, growling...
Between the voice coming from one spot, a light in his face from somewhere else, and the growls coming from different places, well, we never saw that guy again.
Before me & the hubs moved into the house we built, we lived in a farmhouse on the edge of a bean field. The beans were tall that summer. I only remember this because Spence and my Welsh Corgi ran out into the beans, and the corgi got lost. We called for her, and Spence kept leaping in the air, trying to see her. We'd see bean plants moving, then Spence would hop. More beans moving, and another straight up in the air hop by the dog. Over and over. We couldn't stop laughing!
One day we were working on some landscaping in the front yard. The dogs were out running around, doing God only knows what. (I'd soon find out) Once the work was done, and it was time for dinner to get started, I looked over to see Spencer laying out in the grass, chewing on something. I ran over to investigate, only to see him gnawing on a rabbit head...One ear gone, one eyeball hanging out.
Gross.
So I took him inside, along with the other dogs and the boy, while hubs discarded of the softball sized rabbit head.
The boy went to the right to the laundry room to take his shoes off, while I went left to the kitchen to wash the dirt from under my fingernails. A few minutes later, we met in the middle, in the foyer. We were both drawn to a quarter-sized spot of what looked like water, right in the middle of the floor. We looked at the spot on the floor, then at each other, then, as if choreographed, he looked right, I looked left.
And saw the carnage.
Imagine this, if you will...
In the middle of the day, summer time, so the sun is just getting to the point in the sky where it's starting to filter through the french doors in the living room. An invisible sadist has taken a bunny rabbit, and stuffed in to a chipper-shredder. The switch is flicked on, and in an instant, the ENTIRE living room is covered in blood and bunny bits. The sadist and the chipper shredder disappear, and in his spot, stands Spencer. Head down, barely looking at me, tail between his legs.
Moving on.
Spencer loved going to the woods with us... that's where the squirrels are! He would take off after anything, and be gone for what seemed like hours. Then return, giddy, and lay down wherever we were.
Happy dog!!
One night, we were getting ready to go to bed. The dogs had been out, and were settling in. All of a sudden, Spencer stands up, in the middle of the living room, and pukes something huge up.
Whatever it is, it looks like it's whole. And, it has fur.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you can't believe what just happened, where morbid curiosity takes the place of "clean it up!!!"? We were crouched over the first gift, when he walks four feet away, and pukes up the rest of it.
It is then that we see, with the two pieces of the puzzle together now, what used to be a squirrel.
He got up on the couch, laid down, and went to sleep.
He has eaten whole flocks of guineas, plenty of our chickens, too numerous to count deer parts,squirrels, rabbits, and God knows what else.
But he was our loyal, well-deserving buddy. He got snacks, treats and privileges the others didn't.
And he did the dishes every once in a while.
Now the painful part.
Spencer was getting old. I mean, come on, he was 13. His hearing was just about completely gone. His kidneys and/or bladder didn't have the capacity it used to. It took him a whole lot more effort to get on and off the couch, not to mention just get up from laying down.
My biggest fear was since he was just about deaf, he'd be out running around, go to cross the street, and not hear an oncoming vehicle.
And that's exactly what happened yesterday afternoon.
When something like this happens, you kind of go into autopilot mode, and I did, taking care of everything that had to be done.
There's something tragically beautiful in how we treat our animals when they die. The longest walk of my life, carrying my buddy's broken and bloody body, tears pouring down my face, dropping onto his shedding fur. Our other dogs saying goodbye before we buried him. It's always the one you least expect to be affected, that breaks your heart. Squatty smelled Spencer, sat down at his head, and started trembling, and would.not.leave.his.side.
I lost it.
This morning I was praying, just longing for the comfort that comes in the Presence.
It came. And remains. For now, I'm not weeping at the drop of a hat, or at the sight of Spencer's food bowl, or the blanket he laid on every night, or the memories that come flooding back. For now.
We were so incredibly blessed to have this dog in our lives as long as we did. He lived a good life, and set a standard in our hearts for (canine) loyalty, faithfulness, and obedience. His passing was instant; merciful, considering the situation.
I'm still processing the effect he's made on my life, and learning the lessons from him, that we so often ignore. But, if ever a dog is crowned royalty, there is none more deserving than him.
We love you Spencer.
Not just loyal, but obedient. I never knew how important those qualities were.
A beautiful creature.
Bear with me as I publicly grieve the loss of my friend, and process it all. ALL.
Spence was my hub's dog, he was one of the gifts in our marriage. He was my step-son's "brother", as they were only months apart in age.
(I dread this afternoon, when I break the news. I'm crying in advance.)
We called him "airplane ears", "old man", & "squiggle-butt" - because when he got excited to see us, his tail would wag so hard that his rear-end would swing around next to his head. Hilarious to see, really.
He was, at times, so human. His compassion for us when we were hurting or sad was unbelievable.
Other times, he was so...dog.
So many memories... He just turned 13 years old last month, and I've known him for the last 8 1/2.
He adapted to all of the other animals in our house and on our farm so well. Some better than others, (any chicken. any guinea hen. mice. Levi).
He got into a fight with Levi in the driveway one day, it was by far the most brutal thing I've ever witnessed. I had no control over what was going on, I couldn't get either one to stop. Horrible.
Anyways. After bringing him home from the vet with stitches, drainage tubes in his neck, I laid him on the couch. Our cat instantly laid up against him, purring her heart out, soothing his pain.
I sat on the floor, just stroking his fur, comforting him, for hours. I remember getting up to go to the restroom, and he cried and cried and cried. I couldn't leave his side until Daddy came home.
I remember when my hub returned from deployment, after 5 months away.
I pulled into the driveway, and G hid on the side of the garage while I ran in the house to get the dogs. They ran out to greet me, and G walked around the corner... oh.my.gosh. Talk about an excited pup!! He jumped all over him, whining, crying, barking, yipping, jumping all over the place!
One winter, I let the dogs out in the morning. I watched them bee-line towards the back forty, like any other morning. Thirty minutes later we called them back to the house. The first two dogs come back, slowly dragging swollen bellies. It was hunting season, so we figured they found some one's deer-gut-bucket castoffs. When off in the distance, here comes Spencer, trotting happily... with something huge and floppy hanging out of his mouth. As he approaches, we try not to laugh out loud, seeing the deer liver barely hanging in between his lips. He stops at my hub's feet, gently lays down the liver, butt just-a-swinging, smiling up at him. "Look what I brought for you, Dad!!"
No matter how old Spence was, if it snowed here in NC, he reverted back into an energetic, spastic puppy. Jumping, hopping, spinning, flipping, putting his face under the snow, then throwing his head in the air, watching the snow fly off his head.
Spencer could dig a hole to China, as long as a mouse or mole once occupied said hole. He would dig with such purpose, fast and furious, then cram his shepherd nose all the way into the hole he dug, until only his eyeballs were exposed. We would get him riled up, instigating him, just because it was super-duper amusing!
He was the protector of our canine family; and of myself and the boy. God forbid if anyone tried to come at us - the distance between a threat and his charge grew immensely when he stood in the gap.
One night we were sitting at the fire pit with the neighbor, in the middle of the night (yes, it was one of those nights) when we saw someone walk up and down the street one time too many. We live in the country; there's no gas stations, stores or payphones. So anyone walking the streets out here is, 9.9 times out of 10, up to no good. Especially at that time of night. My hubs, the neighbor, and Spencer all crept to the road, hidden in the shadows. They met the suspicious individual in a particularly dark spot in the road, and confronted him. First, with voices. They surrounded him. Hubs was holding a flashlight on him, from high in the air. The neighbor asked him what he was doing, right at the moment the light lit up his face. All the while, Spencer was walking in a circle behind them all, growling...
Between the voice coming from one spot, a light in his face from somewhere else, and the growls coming from different places, well, we never saw that guy again.
Before me & the hubs moved into the house we built, we lived in a farmhouse on the edge of a bean field. The beans were tall that summer. I only remember this because Spence and my Welsh Corgi ran out into the beans, and the corgi got lost. We called for her, and Spence kept leaping in the air, trying to see her. We'd see bean plants moving, then Spence would hop. More beans moving, and another straight up in the air hop by the dog. Over and over. We couldn't stop laughing!
One day we were working on some landscaping in the front yard. The dogs were out running around, doing God only knows what. (I'd soon find out) Once the work was done, and it was time for dinner to get started, I looked over to see Spencer laying out in the grass, chewing on something. I ran over to investigate, only to see him gnawing on a rabbit head...One ear gone, one eyeball hanging out.
Gross.
So I took him inside, along with the other dogs and the boy, while hubs discarded of the softball sized rabbit head.
The boy went to the right to the laundry room to take his shoes off, while I went left to the kitchen to wash the dirt from under my fingernails. A few minutes later, we met in the middle, in the foyer. We were both drawn to a quarter-sized spot of what looked like water, right in the middle of the floor. We looked at the spot on the floor, then at each other, then, as if choreographed, he looked right, I looked left.
And saw the carnage.
Imagine this, if you will...
In the middle of the day, summer time, so the sun is just getting to the point in the sky where it's starting to filter through the french doors in the living room. An invisible sadist has taken a bunny rabbit, and stuffed in to a chipper-shredder. The switch is flicked on, and in an instant, the ENTIRE living room is covered in blood and bunny bits. The sadist and the chipper shredder disappear, and in his spot, stands Spencer. Head down, barely looking at me, tail between his legs.
Moving on.
Spencer loved going to the woods with us... that's where the squirrels are! He would take off after anything, and be gone for what seemed like hours. Then return, giddy, and lay down wherever we were.
Happy dog!!
One night, we were getting ready to go to bed. The dogs had been out, and were settling in. All of a sudden, Spencer stands up, in the middle of the living room, and pukes something huge up.
Whatever it is, it looks like it's whole. And, it has fur.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you can't believe what just happened, where morbid curiosity takes the place of "clean it up!!!"? We were crouched over the first gift, when he walks four feet away, and pukes up the rest of it.
It is then that we see, with the two pieces of the puzzle together now, what used to be a squirrel.
He got up on the couch, laid down, and went to sleep.
He has eaten whole flocks of guineas, plenty of our chickens, too numerous to count deer parts,squirrels, rabbits, and God knows what else.
But he was our loyal, well-deserving buddy. He got snacks, treats and privileges the others didn't.
And he did the dishes every once in a while.
Now the painful part.
Spencer was getting old. I mean, come on, he was 13. His hearing was just about completely gone. His kidneys and/or bladder didn't have the capacity it used to. It took him a whole lot more effort to get on and off the couch, not to mention just get up from laying down.
My biggest fear was since he was just about deaf, he'd be out running around, go to cross the street, and not hear an oncoming vehicle.
And that's exactly what happened yesterday afternoon.
When something like this happens, you kind of go into autopilot mode, and I did, taking care of everything that had to be done.
There's something tragically beautiful in how we treat our animals when they die. The longest walk of my life, carrying my buddy's broken and bloody body, tears pouring down my face, dropping onto his shedding fur. Our other dogs saying goodbye before we buried him. It's always the one you least expect to be affected, that breaks your heart. Squatty smelled Spencer, sat down at his head, and started trembling, and would.not.leave.his.side.
I lost it.
This morning I was praying, just longing for the comfort that comes in the Presence.
It came. And remains. For now, I'm not weeping at the drop of a hat, or at the sight of Spencer's food bowl, or the blanket he laid on every night, or the memories that come flooding back. For now.
We were so incredibly blessed to have this dog in our lives as long as we did. He lived a good life, and set a standard in our hearts for (canine) loyalty, faithfulness, and obedience. His passing was instant; merciful, considering the situation.
I'm still processing the effect he's made on my life, and learning the lessons from him, that we so often ignore. But, if ever a dog is crowned royalty, there is none more deserving than him.
We love you Spencer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)