Waves

One of my favorite art apps on my iPod had suddenly developed a mind of its own. When I try to move the screen down, it moves up. When I try to use the colors on the right side of the screen, at first it ignores me, and then it crashes and I lose whatever art I was working on. I finally gave up and wrote the app developer, begging for a solution. But in the meantime, I had to find another art app that allows that same wonderful watercolor effect. I started playing with another one I already have on my iPad, but it lags a second behind my stylus. Again, I am forced to conclude, perfection on earth will never come.

But in the meantime, I drew with the imperfect app a picture of the sea. And then the day became outrageously busy, and I didn't have time to draw anything else. I lay awake last night wondering what God might be trying to tell me through my subconscious in my drawing of the sea. I was stumped. The only thing I could think of was that I wanted to throw all the school books this year in the sea and start all over. I suspect Asherel shares my feeling. Somehow I doubt God's message is one of defeat, or giving up.

Maybe God wants me to take a vacation to the ocean! This would be a positive message and one I could really use. And while at the ocean, I could throw all the school books in the sea.

And then I thought about our lesson at the dog club last night. Our teacher is wonderful and was trying to teach Asherel why Honeybun might be tentative in her runs at the agility contests. Laura pointed out that if a cue to the dog from the handler comes late, the dog has to slow down to read what the handler is trying to say. The dog becomes slower and slower, and more and more tentative, and the handler loses more and more confidence and slows down herself to be sure the dog is able to read the signals in time...and so the downward spiral goes.

That is what is happening to me in our school this year. I feel like we are getting sucked down the "too busy/too hard/ too much to do" drain, and I am feeling powerless to fight the powerful downward swirl.
One of our instructor's advice to Asherel was, "Run, don't look back!! Everytime you look back, she slows down!"

The ocean pounds tirelessly at the shore. Wave after wave it sends forth, and I wonder if it ever feels disgusted that it doesn't seem to be getting anywhere. We are reading about Sequoya, the  Cherokee who developed the writing system that preserved the Cherokee language. For most of his life he was laughed at, scorned, ridiculed, and told the system was too hard, no one would ever learn it, and he was wasting his time. In the end, he succeeded, and realized that his life of struggle had been worth it. He singlehandedly preserved the Cherokee culture in the midst of our nation's horrendous treatment of the Native Americans. it was his invention of a common written language that provided communication across the vast continent with the various Cherokee tribes that ultimately held them together.

The ocean never gives up. The waves keep coming. There is my powerful message. Do what you need to do day after day after day. There will be swells, and there will be troughs. And progress is sometimes measured not in how far we advance, but how faithfully we fulfill the task set before us.
"Persevere!", the waves call, even as the tide sweeps them back to where they started.

David of the Bible was often in despair, as he became a fugitive, running for his life from the jealous King Saul who was determined to kill him. David likens the struggle to a raging sea, to waves threatening to engulf him. Then he finds solace in the knowledge that God can calm the sea, and God can reach in and snatch David from despair, and place him in a "spacious place" of refuge.

Even with the imperfect iPod app, I drew a pretty picture I thought. It could be better. It always could be. But it could be worse. Perhaps I will draw a better one today with a message that doesn't have to be contorted out of nothing.

2 Samuel 22: 5-7, 16, 20-22, 33

⁵ The waves of death swirled about me;
   the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
⁶ The cords of the grave coiled around me;
   the snares of death confronted me.
 ⁷ “In my distress I called to the LORD;
   I called out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
   my cry came to his ears.

  ¹⁶ The valleys of the sea were exposed
   and the foundations of the earth laid bare
at the rebuke of the LORD,
   at the blast of breath from his nostrils.

 ²⁰ He brought me out into a spacious place;
   he rescued me because he delighted in me.
 ²¹ “The LORD has dealt with me according to my righteousness;
   according to the cleanness of my hands he has rewarded me.
²² For I have kept the ways of the LORD;
   I am not guilty of turning from my God.

³³ It is God who arms me with strength
   and keeps my way secure.

Reward at the end of the tunnel

"We are going back to kindergarten," said Polly, our beloved agility trainer. Since Honeybun had gotten a few faults at the last agility trial by running right by the tunnels, and not through them, Polly told us we needed to show her that going through the tunnel would be well worth the effort.

Asherel loaded a little plate with steak, and Polly set it at the end of the tunnel.
"Now bring her here," Polly said, "Be sure she sees the reward."
Honeybun got a sniff of that steak and was standing up on her hind legs lunging for it.
"Now take her right by the entrance of the tunnel and send her," Polly said.
Honeybun didn't have to be asked twice. As soon as the leash came off, she shot through the tunnel, a blazing golden bullet.
"Do it again, but bring her a little further back."
Each time, Asherel started Honeybun further back, and finally put a jump in between her start and the tunnel. And unfailingly, Honeybun raced over the jump and like a cheetah was on her tail through the tunnel to the sumptuous reward.
"Problem solved," I laughed.

My boy is in a bit of a tunnel these days. Law school was a ton of work, but he survived his first year well. Now he is working day and night on his entry for Law Review, which is what all aspiring attorneys want to be accepted in but it is fiercely competitive. And in the midst of all this, he is trying to find a summer legal internship, preferably paid which very few first year law students can hope to secure. Thus far he has had little luck. He is getting married in July, and I think all these stressors are beginning to take their toll. He is probably thinking like Honeybun had been before our session, "Perhaps I should just avoid the tunnel altogether."

In agility trials, the tunnel is quite long, and often curved so that the entry angle is not always on an obvious line from the last obstacle. While in the dark tunnel, the dog can't see the end due to the twists and curves. She must run through it because she has been taught to expect that her master will be waiting at the other end, and she will be lavishly rewarded when she finishes her run.

Life is not unlike an agility tunnel. Sometimes the right way to go is not easily apparent. And then sometimes we enter a stretch of dark, curving, twisted events and it takes all our courage to keep moving forward. Sometimes the tunnel doesn't seem worth all that effort, all that angst. We can't see the Master, and we just have to trust He is always there just on the other side of the wall that separates us....or that He will still be there when we come out on the other side....
If we do manage to make it all the way through, we hope to find a reward that assures us all that struggle was worth it if we hope to dare navigate another tunnel. And there is always another tunnel.......

I wish I could find an easy solution for my beloved boy, something so simple as putting a plate of sirloin at the end of his tunnel. But in this case, I am not the Master, and I can't help him. I am in a bit of a tunnel myself, the tunnel of trust and faith that his Master is indeed there, waiting, and the reward will be there if he perseveres.

All God's heroes reached periods of despair. Even Jesus cried out, "If it be possible, take this cup from my hand!"  No one enters hardship without struggle. God gave us tears for a reason. There is no shame in despair....only in letting it lead to giving up. Sometimes the reward comes immediately at the end of the tunnel, and sometimes not til the agility class is over.... and sometimes the reward is not sirloin, but just a pat on the back saying, "Well done. You did your best, and nothing more can be asked of anyone."

But if any one of you knows a lawyer looking for a summer intern, a really smart, sweet, and able young man could use a reward waiting at the end of the tunnel.

Revelation 2:2
² I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false. ³ You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary.

Be ye Perfect

I was working on the wedding portrait of my son and his bride to be, and flinging my brush with disgust every few strokes.
"OH NO!"
"What's wrong?" asked Asherel, glancing up from her math book.
"I ruined Karissa! It at least looked like her before. I don't know what I did to ruin it and now I don't know what to do to make it better."
Asherel who has an excellent artist eye, looked carefully at it.
"Her teeth are too dark and the shadows around Matt's eyes are too dark. And his nose is too long."
She left the room.
I went back to work on it and then stepped back.

"Don't do anything else!" cried Asherel returning.
"It does look like them all of a sudden, doesn't it?" I smiled.
"Yes," she said.
And if it doesn't look like them to them, in twenty years it won't look like them anyway and they will look back fondly on those days when they looked so young, so in love, so beautiful, so hopeful.  The strange thing is, I don't know what small change, what small dab of color transformed them from strangers to familiar faces. I am convinced that God got sick of waiting and just grabbed my hand and guided me.

In my art class yesterday, one of my most gifted students was drawing a portrait. I showed him where his line was off by miniscule centimeters.
"This may sound picky," I said, "But if you are off at all in a portrait..."
"It won't look like them!" we said in unison. It is gratifying to have someone who so completely gets it.

My friend Danielle is an agility handler. She is a lovely and unconsciously humble soul, comfortable in her own skin. Her husky is in the running for being one of the top agility dogs in his breed. She just finished a trial where she placed three times, with 2 seconds and a third. She found this a disappointing result.
"In my level," she told me, "You can't make any mistakes. You must be  perfect."

I seem to be bumping up against this message of perfection, time and time again. I am a perfectionist, or used to be. Until I got tired. I looked around my house with the bathroom that hasn't been scrubbed in....well, a long time..... and the dog smears on the windows, and the dust bunnies hopping in the corners. I would never have allowed that a few years ago. I also seem to be wearing stretchy polyester alot all of a sudden. Slowly, comfort and ease seem more alluring, and reaching for impossible standards less so.

And then God sent me the wedding portrait.

I sat in the car last night waiting for Asherel to leave youth group at Church. The minutes stretched on. So I pulled out my Droid, and started sketching the moon and the limbs of the tree against the sky. You may think all I was doing was killing time, and at first, that is what I thought too. But then I realized that a still, quiet voice in my soul was whispering, "If you reach for the moon, you may fall short, but if you don't reach for it, you will certainly never touch it."

Psalm 18:30
As for God, his way is perfect: The LORD’s word is flawless; he shields all who take refuge in him.

Isaiah 26:3
You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.

Matthew 5:48
Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Smiling Dogs

As the dalmation cleared the last jump, I was the ring crew right in the path of his snarling teeth. But fortunately, my first dog was a dalmation and I knew the classic breed tendency to smile. It brought back a flood of memories of my beloved dog Lady and her constant smile that strangers mistook for a grimace or a snarl. You just gotta love a dog that comes barreling off an agility course with a smile on his face.

Honeybun is happy too and having fun, though no ribbons or qualifying scores thus far. She is running well, despite poor Asherel being sick. Her sore throat won't allow her to call out to Honeybun so her attention is not optimal.

But. I am loving the surroundings. The arena is on a small mountain overlooking Blue Ridge mountains all around us. I climbed to the hilltop in a vast open field, peered furtively around me, and then began belting out: "The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years, my heart will be filled with the sound of music...." etc etc .... I thanked God for the ring of glorious mountains, the happy dog and daughter inside, and the fact that my throat was not too sore to burst out in song.

If I were a dalmation, I would've been smiling.

Job 29:24 NIV When I smiled at them, they scarcely believed it; the light of my face was precious to them.

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