The Pleasure of his Master

The four dogs lay down all alone at the end of the Obedience ring. Their owners were no where in sight. In fact, in the dogs' eyes, the owners had told the dogs to lie down, and then deserted them in this scary, unfamiliar place. Each dog lay down with ears perked forward, looking anxiously at the door the owner had walked out of. Eventually, during the long stay, the poodle lay down its head and went to sleep. Two other dogs remained alert, but calm. The Doberman however, was having a crisis within his loyal brain.

I stood just outside the ring with two friends, watching the drama unfold. Their good friend was the owner of the Doberman. The Doberman shifted his weight, as though to rise. All of us gasped. If he got up, the owner was disqualified. The poor dog settled again and I could see him thinking over his options. Then his rear haunches wriggled and rose off the ground. Again we gasped, as the dog paused, thinking through his action.
"If I get up, I will disappoint the Master...the one who has deserted me in my moment of need. Yet...I remember she doesn't like me to disobey her. And if I obey, I get a large piece of liver. I love liver. But I am scared, and I am lonely, and she has left me. She doesn't care anymore!"
He wriggled again, but then lowered his haunches back down. The minutes ticked interminably by. The Golden Retriever happily had enough of this nonsense and stood up. He headed to the ring exit, where the judge kindly leashed him to await the owner's return. The Doberman looked distraught.
"That Golden followed his heart...he disobeyed the Master. Why can't I? I can, I can...I don't need to obey. This long stay is a ridiculous rule anyway...."
Still, the Doberman wiggled, but didn't rise. The battle went on visibly within him.
"Can we help him in some way...indicate to him he should stay and she will be back?" I asked, almost as distraught as the Doberman.
"We could," said my friend, "But that would be cheating."
So we waited with the Doberman.
Finally, the blessed owner returned. The Doberman heaved a sigh of relief. His Master smiled at him. He had overcome temptation, and the reward was the pleasure of his Master. Nothing else mattered.

Deuteronomy 8: 5-7

⁵ Know then in your heart that as a man disciplines his son, so the LORD your God disciplines you.
 ⁶ Observe the commands of the LORD your God, walking in obedience to him and revering him. ⁷ For the LORD your God is bringing you into a good land—a land with brooks, streams, and deep springs gushing out into the valleys and hills

Psalm 128:1
¹ Blessed are all who fear the LORD,
   who walk in obedience to him.

The Great Deleter

At my sister Holly's suggestion, I am reading The Greater Journey by David McCollough. I was really excited to read a tidbit about one of America's early wonder-boys. If I ever knew it, I had forgotten it. Samuel B. Morse, famous for inventing the telegraph, was first and foremost an accomplished artist! For a time, he studied under a particularly difficult task master who  praised infrequently, but was forever criticizing and showing Morse his mistakes. Morse resented this at first, but came to realize as his skills blossomed that "a flatterer is no friend."
"To really improve," Morse said, "I must see my faults."

I think most of us prefer flattery. I think most of us shrivel and become defensive under honest critique. Our self worth somehow becomes wrapped up in what we do, and a perceived attack on how well we do that thing becomes an attack on our personhood.  I know that in my weakness, this is true of me. It is very difficult to take criticism, however well intended or true. In Asherel's Gavel Club, criticism must always be presented by the "sandwich method"- the suggestions for improvement sandwiched between two comments of things the speaker has done well. This is a very good strategy and I need to employ it more often. It definitely softens the blow.

While I was checking my facebook page yesterday, I saw a post by an acquaintance about Sexual predators.The article was a sobering look at the dangers of sexual abuse and how to protect our children. Right below that post, was a video my sister had sent of some dangerous stunts. She added the caption, "sure hope my son doesn't see this."
I laughed at that because her son is a daredevil and I can recall many episodes of life threatening stunts he has pulled in front of my eyes.
So I typed my response, "Oh, knowing your son,  he has done all this and more!"
Chuckling, I pressed SEND.  I sat back to continue reading as my post appeared on Facebook. With absolute horror, I saw that I had responded with my little joke to the wrong message...I had posted my remark under the Sexual Predator post, and had just assured that acquaintance that her son had done all the horrid things outlined in that article...and more.
How do I get out of this!? I cried. Fortunately, in my wild punching of buttons, I found one that allowed me to delete my response.
Oh Lord, I prayed, I hope I deleted it before she saw it.
Then I read a post that said hackers are squirming into our facebook accounts and posting things that are really nasty and defaming.  One of my friends sent out a preemptive disclaimer:
"If you see any facebook post that seems out of character, please know it is a hacker and not me speaking."

I am thinking I should send out a similar preemptive post. In fact, I think I should just wear a sign that says that as well:
"If anything comes out of my mouth that seems uncharacteristic, it is a hacker...not me speaking."
I think this would protect me from myself. I am not as strong as Samuel Morse, I decided. When I do and say stupid things, or paint bad pictures, I want to be able to press a Delete button and have a do-over. I don't want to learn from my mistakes....I just don't want anyone to see them at all. I don't want to make the mistakes in the first place.

But alas, there is no delete button on me. And try as I may, I am usually replete with things that could be improved upon.  So I suppose Samuel Morse has the right idea. To really improve I must see my faults. Morse was a very devout man, and I think he was able to endure criticism by men because he was so convinced that in the end, all his imperfections were covered and forgiven. This is the best message of the Gospel- God sees our hearts and in His mercy, all our sins are indeed, deleted, and He promises that the Hacker will never overwrite the message of forgiveness.

 2 Chronicles 6: 29-30
²⁹ and when a prayer or plea is made by anyone among your people Israel—being aware of their afflictions and pains, and spreading out their hands toward this temple— ³⁰ then hear from heaven, your dwelling place. Forgive, and deal with everyone according to all they do, since you know their hearts (for you alone know the human heart), ³¹ so that they will fear you and walk in obedience to you all the time they live in the land you gave our ancestors.

2 Chronicles 7:
¹⁴ if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land. ¹⁵ Now my eyes will be open and my ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place.

When Good is distorted

I must be getting old...or lazy. Probably both. I curled up with a book, on the off and on rainy day while little tumbleweeds of dog fur blew about the house. The bathrooms, while not yet to the level of disgusting could use a good swipe. Yet, I curled up with a wonderful whodunnit book and read to my heart's content. Honeybun curled up on the couch next to me and we supined the day  away. An oasis of hours in a whirlwind year.

My sister Amy called from the hospital. I hadn't heard her voice in almost a week and after how perilously sick she was, it was music to my ears, albeit drugged, groggy, slooooooow music. She sounded a little like a record played at half speed.  She advanced yesterday to a liquid diet. Until then, she has been fed only through an IV for almost a week.
"Oh, a 5 star liquid diet too," she said, slurring a little through the pain killers, "I even got jello!"
"Jello is liquid?" I asked.
"Yes, this is a little known fact...."
"Wow, well then I suppose you got some yogurt too?"
"No silly, don't you know the meaning of 'opaque'?"

"So Amy, I was looking up what happens during pancreatitis. It is an autoimmune response."
"I know," she drawled with an indignant rise in her carefully paced voice, "Can you believe how dumb a design that is...to make an organ that decides to eat itself?"
And indeed that does seem a little silly. The pancreas produces enzymes that help with digestion, but for various reasons, in Amy's case- unkown reasons, the enzymes turn against their maker...and begin to eat away at the pancreas instead.

This is not unlike sin. Most, if not all sin, is an extreme of a normal and good purpose or function.  It is only when what was intended for good is triggered to exaggeration and goes haywire, devouring itself and unfortunately others in its distorted path. Hunger is good; gluttony is not. Sex in the healthy and safe context of marriage is good; promiscuity is not. Self care is good; narcissism is not. Rest after hard work is good; laziness is not. Etc. etc. etc. (One etc. is good....three etc. is overkill....)

The inevitable result of a distorted good is self destruction. Like a pancreas eating itself.....

Amy has spent a week in the hospital in a very not fun treatment. She was not allowed even a sip of water for almost the whole week. The treatment for pancreatitis is complete cessation of digestion so the pancreas can heal, along with healthy doses of antibiotics.

The treatment for sin is a little trickier. The Bible advises to flee when possible. Sometimes it still overtakes us. God knows of course that it will. So He gave us a book to shore ourselves up, to remind and encourage us, and He gave us a covering so the ravages of sin eating away at a fallen world doesn't chomp on our vulnerable weak souls....but on Him who is able to overcome instead. Ultimately, good will be restored and all things will work as they were intended to work at the dawn of creation.

I got a text message from Amy's saintly husband, Jim last night:
"Amy had solid food!"

Job 20:13
¹⁴ yet his food will turn sour in his stomach;
   it will become the venom of serpents within him.
¹⁵ He will spit out the riches he swallowed;
   God will make his stomach vomit them up.

1 Corinthians 6:12-14 

  ¹² “I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but I will not be mastered by anything. ¹³ You say, “Food for the stomach and the stomach for food, and God will destroy them both.” The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. ¹⁴ By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also.

Invitations to fail

I was thinking further about doors open wide to temptation.... and a six pound bag of gummy worms. The open door image was the result of the backyard gate being left open when we went out of town, and Lucky walking off to freedom. As I was pondering the irresistible siren call of the wild to this dog who hates to be anywhere he is supposed to be, I thought of how much better it would have been if he could have resisted that temptation to walk out of the yard he knew he should have remained in. Yet I knew that was just too great a lure for him to resist. And I thought that God allows, even places open doors like that in our lives. I had once thought it was to torment us, or test us, or prove us. But I think it is perhaps for a different purpose.

Temptations to sin. They are all around us. With all the horrible things a teenager might be tempted to do, my Bible study with Asherel revealed the "open door of temptation" for her- gummy worms.

I had bought a 6 pound bag of gummy worms for her to share with her Science Olympiad team after they finished all their events at the State contest. I know I am a horrible mother and should have been giving them grain fed beef jerky and yogurt...but I gave them 6 pounds of processed, red dyed gummy worms. Anyway, my hope was that it would be consumed by the many families there from our team, and each would get a little. But alas, we returned with at least 4 pounds of gummy worms. The gummy worm bag went in the pantry, and from there it began to whisper.
"Asherel! Asherel! We are here! We are here!"
I saw Asherel hovering near the pantry door, then she reached slowly for the handle as though in a trance.
"Time for Bible study!" I called.
And as we talked about the verses of obedience, of doing what is right, of resisting sin....I thought of my dog and the open gate.
"What are the open gates in your life?" I asked.
Without pause, she said, "Gummy worms."
By now, the 6 pounds of gummy worms were raising quite a ruckus. They were shouting about their sweet delectable fruit flavors, their succulent squishy texture, their beautiful colors.
"You know," I said, "I thought about hiding the gummy worms. I thought perhaps it was cruel to leave them somewhere where you could get at them, when you know you should not eat them on a regular basis and certainly not in that quantity."

She nodded. She knew that there are some temptations beyond her ability to resist.

"However," I said, "I think I won't hide them. I think that sometimes open gates are necessary. It is up to you to choose whether you will walk through them or not. Right now the open gate is a 6 pound bad of gummy worms. When you get to college it will be wider gates with bigger consequences- alcohol, drugs, sex outside the confines of marriage, skipping classes to sleep in....."
I paused thinking of all the damage in my life from the times I did not resist doors I shouldn't have walked through.
"Why do you think God gives us those open doors?"  I asked.
"Well, I guess if we can learn not to walk through them, we grow stronger."
"Yes," I agreed, "I think that is it. If we can learn to resist the little ones, the things like 6 pound bags of gummy worms, then when the big ones come, we will be strong enough to resist them too. And in the end, that will protect us."

Later, Josh showed up so they could fling water balloons just for fun with the 5th place Best in State Trebuchet they had made.
"Hey Asherel!" I called out, as she got slammed with a water balloon, "Why don't you run and get the bag of gummy worms to share with Josh?"

Matthew 26:41

⁴¹ “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Unmerited Blame...sort of

The problem with being guilty most of the time means people assume you are guilty all the time. Following this principle, I have unjustly maligned my dog. He did not technically "escape" from the backyard while we were out of town. I found out someone had left the gate open. He just walked out with an open invitation to sin.

Now it is true that the good dog, Honeybun, did not leave the back yard, despite the wide open gate. Honeybun, who had been rescued from starvation and homelessness was taking no chances on being booted from this haven she has found. Lucky doesn't know how good he has it. He is willing to chance our ire because the grass always looks greener to him when it is not the grass we have told him he is allowed to roll in.

Root causes of behavior are important to examine here, because there is a stark contrast in the behavior of our dogs, raised by the same inept family. One dog seems to have no desire to please us, is forever chewing things he shouldn't, barking when he shouldn't, climbing over or under fences he shouldn't, and tugging on leashes and dislocating arms when he shouldn't. The other dog wants nothing more than to make our lives as pleasant as possible and will do everything within the capacity of a dog without a credit card to bring that about.  I think the underlying difference is gratitude. Lucky has always had a happy, protected, plush life. Honeybun spent her first two years in apparent misery. At the very least those last few months before we found her were likely a living hell given the condition we found her in.

Lucky is an ingrate. Honeybun is thankful. Lucky doesn't see we are the source of his food, his bed, his chewy bones, and the soft couches we have finally given up protecting and let him sleep on. Honeybun always asks politely for every tidbit we offer, with moist gentle eyes, and then she says Thankyou by obeying our every wish.

I love Lucky, just like every mother continues to love a difficult child, but I cannot pretend there are not some deep seated character issues he really has never resolved.

But in this case, he was innocent, or at least more innocent than I had originally believed.

At times, I am a Lucky. I should be a Honeybun more. I forget to say Thankyou to the source of everything I possess. I forget to have an attitude of expectant gratitude for every breath of life I am granted. I grumble when my freedom is contained in any area, and I forget that the freedom I have is a gift. I worry about so many things when the source of all things has promised me that He will provide and all that I need, I already have when I have Him. So I love Lucky also because I understand. He does occasionally look at me sadly, like he knows he has blown it again.

"I just can't help it," he says with his ears drooping, head hanging.
"Sometimes it seems I can't either, " I answer.
"Oh woe is me!" he moans, "Is there no hope!? The very things I should not do, those are the things I do. And the very things I should do, those are the things I do not do."
"The apostle Paul had the same problem."
"He did?"
"Honestly we all do, Lucky, you just are a little outside the bell curve on this one."
"Then you won't send me to the Dog Pound?"
"No, you are forgiven. However, I'd prefer you demonstrate your love a little more tangibly by trying a little harder to do what I ask, don't miss-hear me on this one."
"I will try.... I promise..... "
"Lucky!!!! No! Don't eat that muffin wrapper! Stop! oh....Lucky......"

Romans 7:17-19

¹⁷ As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. ¹⁸ For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. ¹⁹ For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.

Blotting Out Transgressions

"How short do you want it?"
It seemed like an easy question.
Asherel sat in the hairdresser's chair in a nice salon for her first non-bargain basement haircut. She has gloriously thick, long, curly hair. It is also hot, and heavy, and takes forever to dry and manage. She was ready to have it cut off. Since the bargain basement was full for another hour, we went next door to the salon that offers coffee and pound cake. Since Asherel gets her hair cut about once every 6 months or so, I thought we could spring for a good haircut.

We had two criteria for the hairdresser. It had to be long enough to pull back into a ponytail, and it had to be a wash and go style.
"You may need to straighten it every day," said the stylist.
This should have been my first clue that we might not be in the hands of just the right stylist since of the two criteria, she did not seem to want to follow criteria 2.
"That isn't going to happen," I said, "It really needs to be a wash and go style. No hair drying, no straightening." (Besides, when you have gorgeous curly hair, why flatten it?)

That was when she needed some clarification on criteria #1.
"How short?"
"It has to be long enough to put in a pony tail," I reminded her, "She runs dog agility trials and has to be able to pull it back."
At that, I felt confident leaving Asherel in the hands of the professional and diving into the pile of junky magazines. Since I would never stoop to buy junky magazines, I can't wait to go to the hair salons and doctor's offices that have a full array of them. I became quickly immersed in which starlet was crusading for which noble cause while dressed in which designer jeans and stilettos. A peaceful snip snip snip in the background. A cup of green tea and honey in my hands.

When I looked up to see the hairdresser blow drying Asherel's hair, I felt a glimmer of dismay. She looked like a poodle....and not a poodle with ponytail length locks either. Clearly criteria #1 had been ignored. I am no expert, but it looked like while I was lost in the trials and tribulations of Brittany Spears, the hairdresser had closed her eyes and gone wild with the scissors on Asherel's head.

I saw her confer with Asherel and then pull out a hair iron. She began what turned into an hour of hair straightening. She was a very very nice young lady, but from a consumer point of view, she needed a little work. Of the two criteria we had given, she had now ignored both.

It is very hard for me to be brutally honest with hairdressers, and actually, after the hour and a half of styling, Asherel's hair did look nice. The stylist assured us it would also look fine curly. However, when Asherel washed it the next day and emerged with hair sticking out unevenly in all directions, I shuddered. I raced for hair goop and smoothed some over the recalcitrant curls, but it wasn't the curls that were the problem....it was how ineptly they had been cut.  I knew I had to call and request emergency repairs.

This was a well run salon, and the manager instantly set Asherel up with their top designer to repair the cut. We could never afford the top designer normally, so it almost made me glad that the original stylist had been so inept. The designer warned Asherel that while she could certainly repair the cut so that it would be a lovely wash and go style, she could not add back pony-tail length hair. And she would need to take off a little more length to repair the choppy mess left by the other.

In the end, Asherel emerged with a stupendous wash and go hair style, and her lovely face is framed by soft and luxurious, well-cut curls. It is much shorter than she wanted, but really looks stunning. I wish we could afford the designer. The designer told us to return in 6 weeks and she would do another complimentary shaping. And the manager told me in all her years in customer relations, she had never had someone with such a disastrous haircut request a do-over so nicely.  One of my eternal struggles and character flaws is to be kind to inept service providers. This was at least a little validation that my struggles are not always in vain.


But sadly graciousness and gentleness require constant surveillance in my life. I can never stop reminding myself that others almost never live up to my expectations and I need to learn to accept, encourage, and be kind especially then. As soon as I let my guard down, there I go again, irritable, angry, and regretting. I am slowly learning that in the face of this constant struggle, the least I need to do is perfect my apology. The manager of the hair salon did all the right things. She didn't challenge my perspective. She didn't try to convince me the haircut was really not as bad as I claimed it was. She didn't try to defend the stylist. And she asked what she could do to make it right and restore my confidence in her salon. And then this... this is perhaps the most amazing, she thanked me for pointing out where the salon had failed.
"If you don't let us know what we have done wrong, we have no opportunity to fix it," she said.

King David had the power to cut off Nathan's head when he came to David and told him that his adultery with Bathsheba and murder of her husband was major commandment-breaking. David could have offered all kinds of rationalization for his sin, or just dispose of Nathan no questions asked. But instead, here is what he said:  “I have sinned against the LORD.”(2 Samuel 12:13) 

That's it. He offered no justification, no explanation, no attempt to wriggle out of accountability. A complete admission, and a complete understanding of ultimately who he had sinned against.

I pray today that I would learn to keep my character wholly in line with God's desires for me, but when I fail, which I know is probably likely, I pray that I could learn to apologize like David....and the manager of the hair salon.

Psalm 51: 1-17
¹ Have mercy on me, O God,
   according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
   blot out my transgressions.
² Wash away all my iniquity
   and cleanse me from my sin.  ³ For I know my transgressions,
   and my sin is always before me.
⁴ Against you, you only, have I sinned
   and done what is evil in your sight;
so you are right in your verdict
   and justified when you judge.
⁵ Surely I was sinful at birth,
   sinful from the time my mother conceived me.
⁶ Yet you desired faithfulness even in the womb;
   you taught me wisdom in that secret place.
 ⁷ Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
   wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
⁸ Let me hear joy and gladness;
   let the bones you have crushed rejoice.
⁹ Hide your face from my sins
   and blot out all my iniquity.
 ¹⁰ Create in me a pure heart, O God,
   and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
¹¹ Do not cast me from your presence
   or take your Holy Spirit from me.
¹² Restore to me the joy of your salvation
   and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.
 ¹³ Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
   so that sinners will turn back to you.
¹⁴ Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God,
   you who are God my Savior,
   and my tongue will sing of your righteousness.
¹⁵ Open my lips, Lord,
   and my mouth will declare your praise.
¹⁶ You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
   you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
¹⁷ My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
   a broken and contrite heart
   you, God, will not despise.

As a Dog Returns to Its Vomit.....

For months, we had worked with our then starving rescue dog, Honeybun, so that she would not want to disembowel our patient first dog, Lucky when any food was in sight. In those first few awful months, Honeybun would suddenly become a whirling dervish, and lunge at Lucky's throat or belly if there was a nugget of food within reach. Since she had probably been in the wild a very long time scrapping for every morsel of sustenance she could snag, it was understandable, but it did not lead to the peaceful and harmonious home that I envisioned. You may well ask why we kept Honeybun, but that is the subject of my book, soon (I hope) to be published and so I won't spoil the story here.

In those early days, we had to crate or tie the dogs whenever we fed them, and no food could ever be carelessly dropped to the ground. It was Hollow Creek Rescue Farm (HCF) that helped us develop strategies and training that ultimately led to our incredible success story such that the dogs can now eat side by side without blood letting or even a snarl. I have become increasingly cavalier about food and my defenses are almost totally gone.

Last night, I put down particularly delectable gravy bowls for each of them to lick. Honeybun finished first, as she always does. She still gulps her food quickly, and I suspect the memory of those starvation days will never leave her. Lucky was still languishing over his gravy, peacefully scraping every molecule from the bowl. Honeybun looked at him but moved away to let him finish, which is good dog etiquette and I was very proud of her. Finally Lucky decided he was done and as soon as he moved away, Honeybun rushed over to see if he had left any atoms for her. She began the repeat cycle of the wash phase when Lucky began to walk past her to go to his water bowl. She suddenly lunged at him snapping and growling. It was not a full attack, but it was a bitter reminder of those horrid early days with her. I instantly "rolled" her, a technique taught to me by HCF which doesn't hurt the dog, but is the technique a pack alpha dog would use to tell another dog, "If you do this ever again, I will snap your canines off."

I have to admit it was discouraging, after nearly 2 years of this rescue dog being with us, with full bowls of food, many yummy snacks, and a closet full of silky dog outfits that Asherel has made for her, that she would still feel the need to attack over a molecule of gravy.

However, I am honestly not a whole lot different. The same stupid issues that bedraggled my character when I was twenty are the same stupid issues that haunt me now that I am over 21, but less than 60. (much MUCH less than 60). The only real difference is that I am more aware of them, and I fight them and bemoan them more vociferously, but they keep popping back up like those little moles in the whack-a-mole game. (A violent game that none of you should ever indulge in that involves smacking furry cartoon creatures on the head as they pop randomly out of little holes)

So Honeybun and I will curl in front of the scripture today, that reminds and convicts us:
Genesis 4:7
If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it."