My heart is singing this morning; the sun is shining, the air is finally starting to warm. This weekend, according to the weatherman, will finally produce some evidence of spring's arrival here in NC.
Which is GREAT. Really, it is.
But the reason that makes me so happy is Blue.
Blue is one of the puppies that someone dumped on the side of the road earlier this week. There was two when they showed up, and thank you God, the other one has found a home already. They were cold, scared, starving - for both food and attention.
Blue is the "runt" of the two. She was a bag of bones when she arrived, her coat was sparse, scraggly, very stinky, and so dirty she was almost greasy. She could barely walk. You could see every bone in her body, and she ATE like she'd never seen, smelled or tasted dogfood before...absolutely ravenous.
Honestly, we didn't know if she'd live.
My nurturing and compassionate instinct kicked in, and within minutes the pups were bundled up, sheltered, watered and fed. The only thing -well, two things- that kept me from scooping them up and cuddling them for hours were their unholy stink and my husband's good sense.
The next few days were a wreck for me. Nurturing, care-giving, cleaning, loving. All for two puppies I knew I couldn't keep. It broke my heart to bathe them, knowing someone else would be cuddling them. But I also knew that if I didn't bathe them, they most likely wouldn't find a home.
I knew we couldn't afford another dog financially, and I definitely didn't have the time for puppies. And I don't, really. Every time I think of taking in a puppy, I have flashbacks of our last dog when she was a pup...
Being outside CONSTANTLY, trying to housetrain.
Razor-sharp puppy teeth.
Losing sleep...waking whenever the dog moved, to make sure she didn't make a mess in the
house.
Puppy breath...ugh! How some people can love puppy breath is beyond me. It's a smelly
combination of garbage and turds.
Chewing. On. Everything: fingers, hair, furniture, toes, clothes, paper, books, mail, Bibles.
Why is it that human hands make the best teething devices for puppies?? Especially
that meaty area between the thumb and wrist...
I can make myself almost neurotic bringing up memories of all the bad stuff, or the less-than-pleasant parts of bringing home a puppy.
But as Blue sits here in front of me, alternating between biting my notebook and falling over her own feet, I'm realizing I've forgotten all the cute and rediculously funny moments that puppies bring:
tails wagging so hard they can't stand up
goofy feet
discovering the world around them
awakening to the purpose of those funny shaped holes on the front edge of their faces
their momentary fearlessness
yawning so hard they fall over
gaining strength, gaining coordination, but not at the same time
puppy play
unbridled trust
puppy barks
jumping like frogs
sudden crashes, wherever they fall, into naps
I NEEDED to be reminded of this stuff. That having a puppy isn't all bad; sure, it's work, but anything worth doing or having always is.
I originally intended this to be a letter to whoever adopted Blue. And it might still be, so I'll tell you how far she's come.
Five days ago, I could see every bone, she could barely walk.
Today she's running, jumping, playing, wrestling. She's getting some meat on them tiny
bones.
Five days ago, she limped away from me when we first saw her, but not from the blanket and shelter we built for her. Or the food.
Today she runs to me when I call her name. Today she follows me around...like a ...puppy. She's become my shadow; when I stop walking, she sits and looks up at me.
Five days ago, she barely had any fur. She looked like the equivalent of being threadbare. She was covered in dry skin and scabs.
Today she's getting a beautiful coat, which is filling in quite nicely. Fluffy with new growth. The scabs and dry spots on her body are almost completely gone. She's been dewormed, bathed, toenails clipped, dried with a towel and a hairdryer. She's cool as a cucumber, totally laid back.
She loves to play. She loves to be where you are. She loves to curl up in the crook of your arm and go to sleep. She loves having her belly rubbed, and her chest scratched.
She's about the size of a three-pound bag of sugar, so she fits nicely in your arms. And if she's really happy, she'll rest her head in that perfect spot right where your neck and shoulder meet.
I started calling her Blue, simply because of the blue spot in her left eye.
Her coloring is black and brown, with similar markings to a rottweiler. Now that I think about it, she's exactly the same color as our dog Trigger.
As a matter of fact, if Trigger, our big ol' hound dog, and Spencer, our shepherd we lost last year, had a baby, she'd be it!
Blue is goofy like Trigger, big floppy ears that fall into her food when she eats, a broad chest, and clown feet. But the feathers on the back of her legs, her shepherd stance, and her protective attitude remind me of Spencer.
Today she pulled a classic Spencer move - I almost cried. When my husband walked up to us, she got so excited and wagged her tail so hard, her rear end swung around toward him. Spencer did it his whole life whenever he was happy to see us; we called him "Squiggle-butt" for it.
I've almost dreaded having to take care of this pup. But as God always does, He surprises me in the ordinary, the mundane, and even the tedious, by letting me know He's there.
He's drawing my attention back to the miniscule details of His creation.
The sound of the birds chirping and chattering, almost forcing spring into our lives.
The minor changes in the temperature, and how five degrees makes a difference between playful romping and a cuddly, shivering lump on my lap.
Walking around with her outside forces me to pay attention to the tiny. Tiny buds on the trees; tiny bursts of color from dormant blueberry bushes; the sounds tiny paws make while walking through the crunchy winter leaves and grass; the tiny purple flowers peeking through the remnants of tufts of onion grass.
New awareness of growth, new life, all around us as the long winter finally, relentlessly, fades away. The season of death giving way to life, the season of darkness giving way to light.
Laying in the surprise patch of wild pansies, (that I never would have seen had it not been for Blue's arrival), down on the ground to escape the wind but not the sun, the sound of soft buzzing brings my eyes to the honeybees, hovering from flower to flower. Blue bounces through them, oblivious to their instinct to gather pollen, and oblivious to what's happening inside me.
She must have heard me smile; she stops, rushes to me, and as ruthlessly as she can, attacks the pen in my hand.
It's Easter weekend. She's not a chick, or a bunny. But she'd be the cutest addition to an easter basket.
If we can't keep her, I pray her next home is her permanent home.
I pray her new family spoils her with love, is faithful in her training, and has the same desire I do to help God's creatures, big or small. She will, I'm sure, weasel her way into their hearts as much as she has in mine.
I pray God uses this little redeemed pup, saved from death, afforded a new life for no other reason than love and compassion, to change someone's life, just as she is mine.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Little lessons
A couple of months ago, a friend of ours in church asked me
if I wanted to sing with her.
For some crazy reason, I said yes.
Let me give you a little background…
I have not sung in church (apart from hymns with the rest of
the congregation), or in front of anyone else, for that matter, in probably 30
years.
With that being said, when my friend sings in church, a
little bit of heaven pours into our little country church. Her songs are sometimes chosen by her, other
times she’s led by the Holy Spirit to sing a particular song. No matter who chooses the song, it moves
everyone who’s witness to it. When she
sings, she ushers in the Spirit of God, reviving, renewing, and so often,
comforting.
Her fearlessness when she sings.
Her urgency TO sing.
Her flawless voice; her simple guitar.
Altogether, it’s a combination that brings His Presence, as
a present for us… a gift.
So, you can imagine my shock when I heard the words of
agreement fall out of my mouth when she asked me to sing.
An inkling of fear instantly struck me. Not the kind that makes me crawl into a deep
dark hole, but the kind that makes me wonder, ‘what the heck did I just agree
to…’
Not thinking anything of it, I went on. Set aside time to practice with her,
cancelled those practice times. Told her
I couldn’t sing alone, that I don’t want to sing alone, because I was terrified
of just how bad my voice would be. And
thinking about it now, she always looked at me kind of funny. Now I realize why. But I’ll get to that.
My friend’s gift is worship.
It oozes out of her person, in everything she does. We recognize it through her music,
mostly. She is extremely aware of God
all around her, so she worships. It’s
what He created her to do, and she does it, beautifully. God uses her gift of worship to reach people
everywhere she goes, be it church, the grocery store, spending time with
friends, her children’s school…
Another friend is gifted with worship as well. She’s our worship leader at church, she leads
the choir. The amazing thing about this friend
is her hearing is failing! She is such
an inspiration, because what some people would see as a cruel joke – a love and
passion for music and worship – and the one sense we most outwardly utilize for
worship – hearing; hers is diminishing.
But she keeps on. God
does the amazing, and He’s ingrained her with such a passion for Him, and a
passion for worshipping Him, that she cannot stop, even now. I believe God is heightening her other senses. Music and worship is so ingrained into her
being, that she can play the piano, and hear the notes in her heart, sung and
played to the One who holds her whole heart.
She taught herself to play music, so she can worship.
Let that sink in…
Hello…that’s intense!!
These women, have played a huge role in the lesson I’ve been
learning from all my studies, and time in prayer…they may not know it yet, but
they will very soon.
Lately, in my schooling and my own Bible studies, I’m being
absolutely bombarded with scriptural references to the Body of Christ. As the church, I’m learning just what we’re
supposed to be doing, how we’re supposed to be treating one another, what the
purposes for our gifts are…
Gifts! That’s where I
was going with this!
Out of all the references I’m getting to the Body of Christ,
the ones that are hitting home the most lately are the ones about gifts. Selfishly, I can look back at the last few
months and say that I was interested in those mostly because I wondered what my
gift was. And I slowly came to realize,
there’s a bigger picture…
I knew the Lord had a lesson for me in there, somewhere…
Ephesians 4:11-12…”He gave some apostles, some prophets,
some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers. His purpose was to equip God’s people for
the work of serving and building up the body of Christ…”
Ephesians 4:7…”God has given his grace to each one of us
measured out by the gift that is given by Christ.”
Philippians 2:3-4…”Don’t do anything for selfish purposes
(ouch), but with humility think of others as better than yourselves (ouch,
again). Instead of each person watching
out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others.”
Wow…each of us is given gifts, and we’re supposed to use
those gifts to help build up the body!!
I totally get it now!
How awesome!
But I had no idea what this looked like.
Until yesterday, when God dropped the weight of it in my lap. It hit me like a ton of bricks. My eyes could now see what had been happening;
my brain finally put it all together.
All this time I’d been wondering what my gift was, so
I could share it with the body, with the church. So I could help build up the
body. (“Me, me, me, I, I, I…” Sorry for the movie quote. It’s what just came to mind.)
Whenever God teaches me something, it’s very personal, very
real, and usually huge, & life-affecting to me. I can’t just learn something from reading the
Word, or hearing someone talk about it.
I can do that all day long, but I’ve learned that the second I try to
teach what I’ve heard someone else teach, I become the world’s biggest
hypocrite. The lesson has to be real in
my life first, in order for me to share it.
That’s how I knew that somehow, in some way, this “body of
Christ” bombardment was going to be big for me.
I was sitting at the computer yesterday, thinking about how
both of my worshipping friends have encouraged me to do this singing
thing. I was guilt-ridden over previous judgments
I’d held, technically stupid, closed-minded things, then convicted for it,
especially when these people were telling me I had nothing to fear, building me…up…so…
Much…
Oh God.
Here I was, in my absolute Arrogance, thinking I had
something to bring to this body of believers.
Here I was, thinking I was something.
Thinking I had something they needed.
Thinking I knew something they didn’t.
Woe.
In that few moments, I was humbled, I was convicted. My eyes were opened wide, and then shut in
shame.
But Love showed me the lesson, and I was excited!!
Again, the Lord taught me, made it real, made it
personal. He always does it by using a
perspective different than my own. This time,
he used my friends to show me, personally, what it looks like for the body of Christ
to use their gifts to build up the body.
How it’s depicted in scripture.
With the lesson came such an overwhelming feeling of
love. I cannot explain it… I felt an unbelievable love for my friends
who shared their gift. For using their
gift to inspire me, to build me up, to share the love of the Father with
me. Whether they knew it or not, they
were the instruments of a powerful lesson for me, one that will be poured out
to the words of “My Hope is in You”, in a week and a half. Now that I’m grasping the lesson, I’ll be able
to pour out my heart to the Lord with my song, with a tremendous sense of
gratitude, with no fear, and free from judgment.
The whole lesson is making my look at the church I go to
differently. How many times has God used
these people to teach a lesson I was too arrogant to see? How many times have I judged these
people? Oh God, how long have I not
loved these people, not just humanly loved them, but love them as You love
them?? I’m still taking in the weight of
the lesson… sure, the brick load fell yesterday, but the dust is still settling…
My friend looking at me funny when I’d tell her I couldn’t
sing by myself: she knew I’d sing. Maybe not in the understanding of what would
get me there, but she knew. I believe
that she was under orders from higher headquarters to ask me to sing. (Her willing spirit is also inspiring!)
It’s not like I’m a wonderful singer. I’ve watched too many episode of American Idol
to know that I do not have a voice that is anything special. But, it is the voice God gave to me, to
praise Him with. If He loves it, then I guess
I can use it to glorify Him.
To sing is to use your voice. I’m learning that my voice is within, and
that voice better expresses itself with words, once I slow down my thought
process enough to hear the words between the thoughts. This lesson is giving me more confidence to
share my words, it’s helping me find my inner voice, and to tune in more to the
One who gave me that voice.
I can’t thank my friends enough, for being willing to be
used by God.
Beautiful instruments, played together for a glorious
orchestra.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
The Mountain
Standing on a mountaintops, gazing in awe and wonder at the immensity of the view before my eyes.
Up to this point, my view while climbing the mountain has been one-foot-in-front-of-the-other, only seeing what's closest to me. Birds, trees, tiny plants on the path; the tiny microcosm of my existence at the moment.
The higher I climb, I can catch glimpses of a larger view. A clearing brings an opening into a slightly bigger picture than where I am.
Briefly, the perspective changes. Step after step, I can see not where I am, but what's beyond. My focus is no longer on my steps in front of me, the rocks in my path, the sweat dripping down my spine.
The source of my breathlessness changes...it's no longer from the physical exertion; it's from the realization that something much much bigger is at work here.
There's so much more than what I see! There's so much more TO experience out there!!
The reminder is temporary as the path takes me back into the cover of my own travels.
My mind tries to process, to comprehend.
As I focus my thoughts on the "big-ness" of what I've just seen, it keeps my mind busy, distracted from the minutia of my own path, my walk, my hike.
Before I realize it, I've traveled farther than expected. Because my focus wasn't on me, or what was happening around me, the journey to the mountaintop ended up being much quicker, less painful.
And once I get there, I can now see the even bigger picture. The one where you can't get any higher.
I can look down and see how my hike got me here. I can also see how other's hikes have gotten them to this peak, or even to other peaks.
WOAH.
I have to rest here a while. Take it all in...
I realize sometime later that I have to go back down the mountain, back to my life, the everyday.
The journey back down shows the same views; the same points on the journey that the focus is on just where I'm at, and other points where I can get the broader view.
But this time it's different. I can now see all these points on the journey through the lens of a goal: to share this journey, and all I've learned on the journey, with others.
People who don't think this kind of journey could be for them.
People who don't think they can do it.
People who are on their own journey, maybe stuck in the thickets with blinders on to the
grander views.
People on their journey who may not want to leave the place of the grander views, but
haven't seen what it's like from the top.
I have to share this journey, every bit of it.
From the start: a decision, then one foot in front of the other.
The tough spots, where rocks and obstacles try their best to hold me back.
The alone places, in the middle of the forest, with no end in sight.
The joyous places. When the unexpected happens. Birds singing at odd times. Or the whinny of wild horses.
To the moments that take your breath away. When the trees break open, if only for a moment, to show that this isn't the only mountain in the range.
And the view from the top? Well, that's indescribable.
How you feel so big and so small, all at the same time.
How you perspective is forever changed there.
And from then on, the hike always beckons.
Up to this point, my view while climbing the mountain has been one-foot-in-front-of-the-other, only seeing what's closest to me. Birds, trees, tiny plants on the path; the tiny microcosm of my existence at the moment.
The higher I climb, I can catch glimpses of a larger view. A clearing brings an opening into a slightly bigger picture than where I am.
Briefly, the perspective changes. Step after step, I can see not where I am, but what's beyond. My focus is no longer on my steps in front of me, the rocks in my path, the sweat dripping down my spine.
The source of my breathlessness changes...it's no longer from the physical exertion; it's from the realization that something much much bigger is at work here.
There's so much more than what I see! There's so much more TO experience out there!!
The reminder is temporary as the path takes me back into the cover of my own travels.
My mind tries to process, to comprehend.
As I focus my thoughts on the "big-ness" of what I've just seen, it keeps my mind busy, distracted from the minutia of my own path, my walk, my hike.
Before I realize it, I've traveled farther than expected. Because my focus wasn't on me, or what was happening around me, the journey to the mountaintop ended up being much quicker, less painful.
And once I get there, I can now see the even bigger picture. The one where you can't get any higher.
I can look down and see how my hike got me here. I can also see how other's hikes have gotten them to this peak, or even to other peaks.
WOAH.
I have to rest here a while. Take it all in...
I realize sometime later that I have to go back down the mountain, back to my life, the everyday.
The journey back down shows the same views; the same points on the journey that the focus is on just where I'm at, and other points where I can get the broader view.
But this time it's different. I can now see all these points on the journey through the lens of a goal: to share this journey, and all I've learned on the journey, with others.
People who don't think this kind of journey could be for them.
People who don't think they can do it.
People who are on their own journey, maybe stuck in the thickets with blinders on to the
grander views.
People on their journey who may not want to leave the place of the grander views, but
haven't seen what it's like from the top.
I have to share this journey, every bit of it.
From the start: a decision, then one foot in front of the other.
The tough spots, where rocks and obstacles try their best to hold me back.
The alone places, in the middle of the forest, with no end in sight.
The joyous places. When the unexpected happens. Birds singing at odd times. Or the whinny of wild horses.
To the moments that take your breath away. When the trees break open, if only for a moment, to show that this isn't the only mountain in the range.
And the view from the top? Well, that's indescribable.
How you feel so big and so small, all at the same time.
How you perspective is forever changed there.
And from then on, the hike always beckons.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
A Letter to my Boy
You just turned thirteen. I figured I'd better write this now, while I still like you.
You, son, amaze me. Watching you grow.
Maybe it's a blessing you don't live with me and your dad every day. We see you every few days, and it gives me time to truly miss you, to appreciate you more, to really notice you.
To watch you develop your own personality; to see little inklings of the future you popping out...a little here, a little there.
To see what you struggle with, and to notice that some of it isn't changing as you get older.
Those few years you spent refining your sense of humor - priceless. I still laugh at some of those exchanges. You are still, by far, one of the funniest people on this earth.
The way your brain works reminds me of your father. Your ambition comes from your mother. Your heart reminds me of me.
You were, and still are, my favorite wedding gift.
You have weaseled your way into one of the top spots of the most influential people in my life.
You've taught me how to encourage. You've taught me how to not just layer blanket praise, but to seek out strengths and build on those. To notice every good thing, instead of just one thing. You've taught me a patience that is definitely a work-in-progress. You've become my friend, my partner in crime, my fellow adventurer, my exploring sidekick, my creative co-conspirator, and my comic relief.
But most of all, you've taught me how to love in a way I never understood, and never would have, had you not been brought into my life.
I am stopped dead in my tracks at how much of a man you are sometimes. You have wisdom and maturity that go beyond your years. The beauty is that you're not hindered in any way, shape, or form by the experiences of life that bring most people to that point, or the crippling fear that usually accompanies.
That's why I've learned to keep laughing at the moments in between:
when you make your weird noises,
when you can't seem to make a complete sentence,
when you're standing on a flimsy plastic chair in the middle of a gravel driveway trying to
shoot a pine cone out of a tree with a BB gun on a windy day,
when you grab the dog's jaws and open them wide and yell into her cavernous mouth,
when you don't pick up your socks/ shoes/ coat/ book bag/ homework/ candy wrappers/
pencils/ dirty clothes/ hats/ football/ slingshot,
when I find BBs and pellets EVERYWHERE,
when you get into farting contests with your dad and the dog,
and my FaVoRiTe, talking with food in your mouth (spoken through clenched teeth).
I love watching you watch other people; taking in every single person you meet. I love hearing about your adventures (& misadventures) at school...you're handling it so much better than I did. Your confidence, that you completely pay no attention to, speaks to people around you. The lives you speak into every single day are changed, just because of who you are. You are genuine, caring, and loyal.
I love that your favorite movies are Machine Gun Preacher, Shooter, and Boondock Saints, and that your favorite book, so far, is Grizzly Adams.
One of my favorite stories you told me was how you almost got into a fight at school, because some kids were picking on your friend in a wheelchair. You fought tears even in telling me the story.
Yeah, dude. My heart EXPLODED with pride that day.
I don't ever want you to lose that.
I don't ever want you to be afraid. I don't want you to ever quit caring about people. I don't ever want you to quit giving every single person you meet the best of you, of your heart. I don't ever want you to quit standing up for what's right.
My prayers for you are a little out of the ordinary, but so am I. So is your dad. So are you.
(Besides, life's more fun that way.)
I pray adventure for you.
I pray you see amazing things in this lifetime. I pray you see more of this beautiful planet than we have. I pray you see breath-taking sights, eat exotic foods, live in other cultures, and learn to appreciate the beauty in humanity. I pray you experience people who live in true community, and I pray you experience people who are shunned, hurt, poor, hungry, homeless, grieving. It is with them that your eyes will be opened.
I pray you experience hard times. Hard times are what refine us, they scrape away all the crap we surround ourselves with, what we cushion our security with. I pray that in those hard times, you grow closer and closer to God.
I pray you experience true joy. Joy that cannot be taken away, a peace that fills your every day. Deep down, you know where this comes from. (wink wink)
I pray you are free-spirited enough to follow your heart, no matter where it takes you, and that amazing brain keeps you focused on what's important in this life, on what's True.
Speaking of that brain of yours, I pray you stay hungry for knowledge. Keep learning about what interests you; there's always opportunity to learn more. But knowledge is a gift, and the best gifts are always shared.
I pray for courage, that you remain courageous. And in order for you to be courageous, you'll have to be in situations that require you to be courageous. I have to accept this, if I want my boy to be a man someday. Don't worry, I'll get over it...eventually...
I pray that your faith grows strong, and remains strong. However that has to happen.
I pray you make mistakes. (Lord, not the kind of mistakes we made, pleeeeeeese....) The kind of mistakes you learn from, you grow from. The ones you walk away from, or come out of, changed.
I pray you love others. Recklessly, unashamed, wholeheartedly. "Like you love yourself". And pay attention to what happens.
I love seeing how Jesus lives through you, a willing heart. And it's not even in ways you're aware of. It's because of your humility. Please keep that. I am beyond excited to see where life takes you, and how the world changes wherever you go.
I love you buddy, more than you'll ever know. I thank God for the beautiful wonderful gift you are in my life, and pray that you have that effect on everyone you meet.
Enjoy this life, enjoy every moment. Your parental influences are ones of adventure, justice, and compassion. Embrace them all.
Now. Let's get to work on cleaning that room of yours, okay?
You, son, amaze me. Watching you grow.
Maybe it's a blessing you don't live with me and your dad every day. We see you every few days, and it gives me time to truly miss you, to appreciate you more, to really notice you.
To watch you develop your own personality; to see little inklings of the future you popping out...a little here, a little there.
To see what you struggle with, and to notice that some of it isn't changing as you get older.
Those few years you spent refining your sense of humor - priceless. I still laugh at some of those exchanges. You are still, by far, one of the funniest people on this earth.
The way your brain works reminds me of your father. Your ambition comes from your mother. Your heart reminds me of me.
You were, and still are, my favorite wedding gift.
You have weaseled your way into one of the top spots of the most influential people in my life.
You've taught me how to encourage. You've taught me how to not just layer blanket praise, but to seek out strengths and build on those. To notice every good thing, instead of just one thing. You've taught me a patience that is definitely a work-in-progress. You've become my friend, my partner in crime, my fellow adventurer, my exploring sidekick, my creative co-conspirator, and my comic relief.
But most of all, you've taught me how to love in a way I never understood, and never would have, had you not been brought into my life.
I am stopped dead in my tracks at how much of a man you are sometimes. You have wisdom and maturity that go beyond your years. The beauty is that you're not hindered in any way, shape, or form by the experiences of life that bring most people to that point, or the crippling fear that usually accompanies.
That's why I've learned to keep laughing at the moments in between:
when you make your weird noises,
when you can't seem to make a complete sentence,
when you're standing on a flimsy plastic chair in the middle of a gravel driveway trying to
shoot a pine cone out of a tree with a BB gun on a windy day,
when you grab the dog's jaws and open them wide and yell into her cavernous mouth,
when you don't pick up your socks/ shoes/ coat/ book bag/ homework/ candy wrappers/
pencils/ dirty clothes/ hats/ football/ slingshot,
when I find BBs and pellets EVERYWHERE,
when you get into farting contests with your dad and the dog,
and my FaVoRiTe, talking with food in your mouth (spoken through clenched teeth).
I love watching you watch other people; taking in every single person you meet. I love hearing about your adventures (& misadventures) at school...you're handling it so much better than I did. Your confidence, that you completely pay no attention to, speaks to people around you. The lives you speak into every single day are changed, just because of who you are. You are genuine, caring, and loyal.
I love that your favorite movies are Machine Gun Preacher, Shooter, and Boondock Saints, and that your favorite book, so far, is Grizzly Adams.
One of my favorite stories you told me was how you almost got into a fight at school, because some kids were picking on your friend in a wheelchair. You fought tears even in telling me the story.
Yeah, dude. My heart EXPLODED with pride that day.
I don't ever want you to lose that.
I don't ever want you to be afraid. I don't want you to ever quit caring about people. I don't ever want you to quit giving every single person you meet the best of you, of your heart. I don't ever want you to quit standing up for what's right.
My prayers for you are a little out of the ordinary, but so am I. So is your dad. So are you.
(Besides, life's more fun that way.)
I pray adventure for you.
I pray you see amazing things in this lifetime. I pray you see more of this beautiful planet than we have. I pray you see breath-taking sights, eat exotic foods, live in other cultures, and learn to appreciate the beauty in humanity. I pray you experience people who live in true community, and I pray you experience people who are shunned, hurt, poor, hungry, homeless, grieving. It is with them that your eyes will be opened.
I pray you experience hard times. Hard times are what refine us, they scrape away all the crap we surround ourselves with, what we cushion our security with. I pray that in those hard times, you grow closer and closer to God.
I pray you experience true joy. Joy that cannot be taken away, a peace that fills your every day. Deep down, you know where this comes from. (wink wink)
I pray you are free-spirited enough to follow your heart, no matter where it takes you, and that amazing brain keeps you focused on what's important in this life, on what's True.
Speaking of that brain of yours, I pray you stay hungry for knowledge. Keep learning about what interests you; there's always opportunity to learn more. But knowledge is a gift, and the best gifts are always shared.
I pray for courage, that you remain courageous. And in order for you to be courageous, you'll have to be in situations that require you to be courageous. I have to accept this, if I want my boy to be a man someday. Don't worry, I'll get over it...eventually...
I pray that your faith grows strong, and remains strong. However that has to happen.
I pray you make mistakes. (Lord, not the kind of mistakes we made, pleeeeeeese....) The kind of mistakes you learn from, you grow from. The ones you walk away from, or come out of, changed.
I pray you love others. Recklessly, unashamed, wholeheartedly. "Like you love yourself". And pay attention to what happens.
I love seeing how Jesus lives through you, a willing heart. And it's not even in ways you're aware of. It's because of your humility. Please keep that. I am beyond excited to see where life takes you, and how the world changes wherever you go.
I love you buddy, more than you'll ever know. I thank God for the beautiful wonderful gift you are in my life, and pray that you have that effect on everyone you meet.
Enjoy this life, enjoy every moment. Your parental influences are ones of adventure, justice, and compassion. Embrace them all.
Now. Let's get to work on cleaning that room of yours, okay?
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Step 2: Redemption
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.
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 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.
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