Contemplating Perfection

After five tedious months, Asherel has completed her entry for the NRA Wildlife Youth Art Contest. She has spent 5-7 hours a day on it for the past two months, while I have read her school work to her. She spent several hours a day during the three months prior to that. It has really been a monumental effort. She knows that the judges will not care that she devoted 1/28th of her entire life on earth to this wolf, however, and she will be judged on the merit of the final outcome. And of course, that judgment is subjective, and may not go the way we hope it would. For now, she is just relieved to have finished it.

Now after all this time, the last thing she must do is name it. After five hard months of effort on a piece of art, it deserves a stupendous name.
I matted it for her and then held it up in all its finished splendor.
"What will be the title?" I asked, filled with expectant wonder.
"How about Wolf Standing on Rock?" she said.
I lowered the painting, "Can you think of something more poetic?"
"Wolf Standing on A Rock?"
"Let's just go all out and call it The Wolf Standing on A Rock."
Or maybe even The Wolf Standing on A Rock with Grass in the Background.

She was tired. The wolf was supposed to be done a month ago, we thought. And each night she told me it would be done the next day. But the level of detail was excruciating, and she refused to lower her standards so the wolf genesis crept along more slowly that the gestational period of real wolves.  I suppose there is no name that would give proper justice to how much struggle, time, effort, despair, and delight went into the wolf. I came out this morning and stood a long time looking at the picture. Maybe obvious is the best choice after all. What does one title a picture grasping so ardently for perfection?

When Ezekiel goes before the people of Israel to confront them with their sin, how short they fall from the righteousness of God, he uses the Temple as a goad to their conscience. He tells them to look upon the beautiful temple of God, designed in exact conformation to God's plan. He tells them to consider all its exits, and entrances, and the laws contained within. It was constructed exactly as God required, and it was described by Ezekiel as Perfection.  There are only 7 times the word Perfection is used in the Bible, and most are from Ezekiel. In every case, however, except the Perfection of the temple, the word was used in paragraphs that showed how perfection on earth was always temporal, always limited, always vanished in the end. There would be no lasting perfection made by man. However, the seventh time the word perfection is used is in the book of Hebrews. The author of Hebrews tells us if perfection could have been achieved by the old order of human striving and sacrifice in repentance when they fell short, then there would have been no need for Jesus. But humankind always would fall short, would never reach perfection, not on their own.

I stood in front of the wolf picture, marveling at my daughter's use of form, light and dark, design, color and especially the incredibly detailed rendering of every hair on the wolf in a very difficult medium. He has a pensive look on his face, as he stands atop a rock, looking out over the beauty of God's creation. How about Contemplating Perfection for a name?

Psalm 119: 96
⁹⁶ To all perfection I see a limit,
   but your commands are boundless.

Sharing in Troubles

While slicing my homemade bread, I inadvertently sliced open a finger and my thumb. I just hate it when that happens. I hurried to wrap bandages on the two fairly deep and throbbing cuts, and began to feel very sorry for myself. No one was even home to give me pity. Remaining optimistic is a moment by moment thing for me. It is so easy to let the little sliced open fingers of life pull me into a funk.

I ran into a friend at the grocery store that I haven't seen in months. She is one of those friends who no matter how many moons have slid into the ocean since last talking with me, we always start back in with conversation as though we had just seen each other yesterday. She was feeling stressed with life. Too much to do, too little time, too little reward. And yet, she told me, for now, if this is where God wanted her to be, then she would remember that pleasing Him was the most important thing for her to keep her focus on. We talked a long time, while the cashier glared at us. My friend had just finished checking out, and her cart was pulled out of the immediate way of exiting customers, but they did have to stream around us. We were rocks impeding the swift flow of the grocery clients out of the store and the cashier was clearly annoyed. My friend and I stood there for a half hour, talking about keeping our focus on pleasing God, not men. This was a good thing to keep our focus on, since now the customers and the cashier were shooting dagger looks at this chatty duo making them walk ten extra steps to veer around them.

"But it is day by day for me," said my friend, "I keep thinking if God would just put me in a better job, I wouldn't have all these temptations of anger and stress! But for now, this is where He seems to want me. And so each day, I find myself blowing it, and having to pray to God for forgiveness and strength."
I laughed, "It is moment by moment for me!"
And I went away encouraged by my friend, and her reliance on God. I felt buoyed by her reminder of where my focus should be. Then I sliced my fingers open, and my focus was on the pain and trouble again.

Philippians 4:
¹³ I can do all this through him who gives me strength.  ¹⁴ Yet it was good of you to share in my troubles.

Deuteronomy 11:
⁸ Observe therefore all the commands I am giving you today, so that you may have the strength to go in and take over the land that you are crossing the Jordan to possess, ⁹ and so that you may live long in the land the LORD swore to your ancestors to give to them and their descendants, a land flowing with milk and honey.

Rejoice today

She beamed at me, the smile so sincere and joyful, that it was easy not to notice she had no hands, and no legs. Her hair was beautifully braided and she was dressed in bright and cheerful clothes. I have seen her before on my runs, and she is unfailingly smiling as she guides her electric wheelchair along the road by the lake. Like me, I suspect she makes a daily visit to the swans.

I had been deep in thought over woes and worries. My husband was laid off a few weeks back, and there doesn't seem to be much out there in finance department jobs, at least in this area. Amy, my dear sister, was still having pancreas issues, and was to go in surgery that afternoon with hopes of finding the cause. Asherel was at camp, with no phone or ipod allowed, so I had no way of contacting her, this child that lights up my life. It was even too hot to kayak. Home school reconvenes soon, and I have not yet even opened the 6 inch thick teacher's guide. 9th grade! EEEEEEk.

And then in the midst of all this doom and gloom rolls the lady with no hands and no legs. She waved with the stub of one arm, and smiled gloriously- a radiant sun breaking out across a stormy landscape.
"Hello!" she called happily to me, "Have a blessed day!"
And then she rolled on down the street in her electric wheelchair, still smiling.

This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:23-25

²³ the LORD has done this,
   and it is marvelous in our eyes.
²⁴ The LORD has done it this very day;
   let us rejoice today and be glad.
 ²⁵ LORD, save us!
   LORD, grant us success!

Take a Sad Song and Make it Better

 "Why are the tomato plants dead?" asked Asherel.
Why indeed. Why, no matter how carefully I follow the directions on the fail safe packet of tomato seeds, do I never manage to get them past the seedling stage?
"Did you water them?"
"Well, I may have forgotten to water them this week. But I was watering them until now.....I think....."

I even bought the little fail safe peat pot starter kits, designed especially for people who can't seem to get past the difficulty of filling their own little cups with healthy dirt, placing a seed the right depth in the dirt and finding just the right window to place them in. With the fail safe peat pot kit, all I had to do was open the package, add water til the peat pots swelled to double their size and plop the seed in.

To my delight, they had sprouted, then had grown sweet little leaves, two on each, and then developed into snake like wispy long plants. No more leaves developed and they looked anorexic. And then I got busy with my worries over sister Amy and the wedding....and apparently, the little fellows died. Like all my seedlings die.

I went over and looked at them. They all lay like dead skinny worms flat across the fail safe peat pots. Just to be sure they were really dead, I added water and put them back in the window.

I have 4 hardy house plants in the sun room that I have not killed. I have had them for fourteen years. I know that because I got them when Asherel was born. They often look droopy and almost dead themselves, again because I may have forgotten to water them. But then they spring back to life and have soldiered on in this home of plant growing nincompoops for over a decade.They are the picture of resilience.

What makes my ineptitude in this area all the more puzzling is my mom can make anything grow. She would traipse through the woods, recognize and dig up obscure lovely wild flowers, and then transplant them in our wild flower garden back yard. And they thrived.

I even talk to my plants. I encourage them. I told those tomato seedlings how proud of them I was and how we were going to become good friends. They were safe and well cared for in a home with people who loved them.  But, there was that little lapse of not watering them.  Good intentions only get you so far with plants. In the end, they have to be watered.

I want to share a little creativity secret with you. I rarely know what I am going to write about each day, and I draw pictures hoping they might spark an idea. I sat down in between packing for the wedding yesterday and drew the bleak black picture at the top of the blog. I was thinking of the tomato plants I had killed. And then, before I clicked off my iPod, I started adding to the picture. A half hour later, the second picture in this post appeared. It doesn't have to be death. It can be life. So often relationships wither, marriages end, children lose joy and delight in the wonder of life, obstacles defeat rather than strengthen.....

It doesn't have to be that way.

As I am sure Asherel would be pointing out right now if she were writing this, "The Beatles knew that, Mom."
"Of course they did. And how do you know that?"
"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better...." she would sing.
And that's why so many Beatles' tribute bands end their concerts singing "Hey Jude!"  We all get handed sad songs at one time or another....sometimes we even write them ourselves. Sometimes tomato seedlings die even when we follow all the instructions. Sometimes pictures emerge from the artist's hand bleak and foreboding. We all are hoping it could be different. We could make it better.

Maybe if we just keep at it...water those plants, say a kind word, stroke a lonely hand, hug a hurting soul, draw the leaves that we want to swirl about our hands with hope and life and bathe it all in prayer, maybe we can make the saddest song a little less sad.......

And of course God knows that. That's what the whole book of James is about. Don't let trials defeat you. Don't think Satan wins just because grief and struggle threatens to lay you flat like those tomato plants. This isn't all He wrote. This is just the beginning. Take a sad life and make it better.

I peeked at my tomato plants.The water did not rejuvenate them. I guess only God can raise the dead. But I did scurry off and water my other plants, who were looking a little droopy.

James 1: 2-3
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.

Psalm 65: 8-9
The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;
    where morning dawns, where evening fades,
   you call forth songs of joy. You care for the land and water it;
   you enrich it abundantly.
The streams of God are filled with water

Life among the thorns

I got a call asking for a donation for the youth auction to fund a missionary trip they will be going on. Asherel cannot go because it is at the time of Matt's wedding, but every year I donate some art work. I never know if it sells. I don't want to know. If it doesn't sell, I will be depressed, and if it does sell, I might wish I had kept it. It is always a little agonizing, choosing the art to donate.  The artwork I create becomes a piece of me, almost like a child, and it is difficult to part with any of them. I fear I may never be able to draw like that again. So this year, I brought a few old favorites down from the attic and they watched me from their perch against the wall.
"So just like that, you are so willing to sever our relationship?" accused the ocean scene.
"It is not that I want to," I answered, "I  am doing a mitzvah."
"What's that?"
"I understand your confusion, since you see it so rarely from me. It is a good deed, a connection to God, with no hope of reward. You just do it because it is the right thing to do."
"You need more mitzvahs in your life," agreed the ocean scene, "But does it have to be at my expense?"
"Well what else am I going to do with you?"
"Save me for your son and future daughter in law. She seems to have good taste. I'll bet she would be thrilled to hang me on her wall. And what about your future grandchildren? Might they not want to remember when you had talent and produced beautiful things?"

So, in the end, I decided the ocean scene was correct. I instead took an old picture I had done of a rose, and let the Spirit guide my hand as I tried to create something beautiful. I knew the rose itself was somehow not enough. It was not complete.

When I finished it, I leaned it against the wall.
"Are you giving me up to the auction?" asked the rose, as it squirmed on its bed of thorns on the cross.
"Yes, I am afraid I have to. I have run out of time, and so you will have to find a new home among strangers."
"Well that is exactly where I belong!" said the rose, its perky petals blooming.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you already received my message. After all, you pulled it out of your subconscious to draw me. Now I need to go bless someone else."
I looked at the rose for a long time, and finally admitted, "The subconscious can be a deep and treacherous place. Can you tell me exactly what message I was supposed to be receiving?"
"No," said the rose, "Some things are better understood on your own."

Last night I had a dream that Asherel and I went on a bike trip. It was to be a trip where we would bike across a lovely countryside for a long time, and camp along the way. As we gathered to meet our team leader, I realized I had forgotten two things- our bikes.... and our camping supplies.  The two things I most needed for the journey, I didn't have.

Life is indeed a bed of roses....but not only roses. In the midst of that beauty and that fragrant life, there are thorns. And there is sacrifice. Without that, perhaps we miss the most important things. We may be in a good place....a beautiful place, but with no means to carry us to a better place, the best place.

As I handed the rose to the woman at the church collecting the auction donations, she smiled, "This is beautiful!"
"Thank you," I told her, "If it doesn't sell, may I have it back?"
The rose blushed. "Go in peace. You understand," she whispered.

Mark 15

 ¹ Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, made their plans. So they bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate.  ² “Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate.
   “You have said so,” Jesus replied.
 ³ The chief priests accused him of many things. ⁴ So again Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.”
 ⁵ But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.
 ⁶ Now it was the custom at the festival to release a prisoner whom the people requested. ⁷ A man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder in the uprising. ⁸ The crowd came up and asked Pilate to do for them what he usually did.
 ⁹ “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate, ¹⁰ knowing it was out of self-interest that the chief priests had handed Jesus over to him. ¹¹ But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have Pilate release Barabbas instead.
 ¹² “What shall I do, then, with the one you call the king of the Jews?” Pilate asked them.
 ¹³ “Crucify him!” they shouted.
 ¹⁴ “Why? What crime has he committed?” asked Pilate.
   But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify him!”
 ¹⁵ Wanting to satisfy the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.

Isaiah 53:4-6

 ⁴ Surely he took up our pain
   and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
   stricken by him, and afflicted.
⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions,
   he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
   and by his wounds we are healed.

Dumb Phones

I had not known demonic possession could apply to phones until yesterday. My so called "smart" phone suddenly went berserk. First it wouldn't turn on. I did everything I knew to do. I even offered it Starbucks Extra Extra Robust coffee. It still lay there dead. And then, on its own, it suddenly blasted into life. It began vibrating and lighting up, and dialing random numbers.  Random applications flashed across its touch screen. It buzzed and struggled to open windows which then fluttered, flashed off and on, and then disappeared altogether. It was downright spooky.

I called Verizon.
I listened to the automated list of "Problems I was experiencing". Then a recorded voice asked where I would like to be directed. I said "Priests."
The phone put me through to the technician.
"Hello!" said a cheery voice,"What is your name, please?"
"Vicky."
"Well hello Vicky! How can I help you? What's going on?"
"My phone needs an exorcism."
"Oh, I am sorry to hear you are experiencing difficulties. Let's see if we can help you out, shall we?"
"I'd appreciate that, because right now, I am a little afraid to be in the same room with it."
"What exactly is it doing?" he asked.
I glanced at the phone. It had gotten off the counter and was choking the dog.  Not really, but I would not have been surprised if it did.
"It is flashing and dialing random numbers, and then vibrating and shuddering."
"Hmmm. Let me check the owner's manual, Vicky. I am real sorry you are experiencing problems and I do apologize for the inconvenience."
He put me on hold, during which period I tied a clove of garlic around my neck and pointed a weapon menacingly at the phone in case it attacked.
"Well," he said, returning to the call,"It appears this is not normal..."
Do ya think not?

I knew what God was up to here. He knows my thorn in the side, my perennial weakness in the face of frustration and irritation with products that cost a bundle and then don't work. Add to that technicians who are unfailingly polite and trained to empathize with irate customers but quite often don't know the product very well and I tend to become....hmmmm.... like the smart phone gone dumb.I buzz and vibrate and whine and my light that draws others to God grows a little dim and erratic.

So they sent me a new smart phone. Faxed it overnight. When it arrived, the first problem emerged. Neither Asherel nor I could get the battery door on it. I put it in a bag in my purse and we headed to Verizon. I would have them put on the battery door and activate the phone, and all my woes would be over. Praise the Lord.

At the Verizon store, I handed the technician the phone, after explaining we couldn't get the battery door on.
He took it from my hand, and then looked at me.
"It seems to have put the door on itself," he said.
Asherel and I both knew that battery door had NOT been on. This should have been my first clue that this smart phone was a genius.... I knew it remained to be seen if it was a force for good or for evil.
"As long as I am here, can you activate it and be sure all my apps are installed correctly?"
"Sure," he said, "I can talk you through everything." (What he was quickly realizing was that the smart phone user who could not put on the battery door without help might find the next few steps beyond her, where reading and comprehension were critical.)
"Hmmm," he said,"That's odd...."
"What's odd?" My lemon radar was up.
"It won't input the information....."
I saw that it was starting off doing the same wacko things the other phone had done. It was not responding to the touch screen and then it would vibrate, flash, and respond randomly. It seemed to settle down for him, and he brushed off my concerns that Mephistopheles 2 was taking control of my my phone.
"All set!" he said, a half hour later.
I took the phone and we went to our next errand. On the drive, the phone began going crazy, flipping out like the last one had.
 I am worn out. Sometimes I wonder if technology is worth it.
Verizon says I can go look at other phones and see if I would prefer a different kind....like one that works.

When Timothy was sent to encourage and check up on the church at Thessalonica, he was worried. He knew they were undergoing many trials, and he was pretty sure they were crumbling under the pressure. And none of them were even dealing with demonic smart phones. To his delight, he found that their faith still stood. And the result of seeing the faith of those who were suffering hardships and persecution was that Timothy and Paul and others were strengthened and encouraged. Hard as it is to remain a loving and shining servant of God when frustration is mounting in many areas, if we do stand firm, we are shoring others up as well. It gives at least some purpose to struggles....small ones like haywire phones, and big ones like grave illness or broken hearts.

I think my phone is giving me a wake-up call. Maybe it is smarter than I thought.....

1 Thessalonians 3: 1-8

 ¹ So when we could stand it no longer, we thought it best to be left by ourselves in Athens. ² We sent Timothy, who is our brother and co-worker in God’s service in spreading the gospel of Christ, to strengthen and encourage you in your faith, ³ so that no one would be unsettled by these trials. For you know quite well that we are destined for them. ⁴ In fact, when we were with you, we kept telling you that we would be persecuted. And it turned out that way, as you well know. ⁵ For this reason, when I could stand it no longer, I sent to find out about your faith. I was afraid that in some way the tempter had tempted you and that our labors might have been in vain. ⁶ But Timothy has just now come to us from you and has brought good news about your faith and love. He has told us that you always have pleasant memories of us and that you long to see us, just as we also long to see you. ⁷ Therefore, brothers and sisters, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith. ⁸ For now we really live, since you are standing firm in the Lord.

Mountains

Honeybun and I sat at the hotel room sliding glass door,watching the sun set behind the mountains before us. We had encountered no snow and no black ice and no wind to blow us off the mountain. Our trip had been uneventful. God seems to know when my spirit can bear no more.

Right before leaving, I had found out some very bad news about a dear friend. Hearing the horror of what she will need to endure made all my concerns so frivolous.

So I am sitting in front of the vista of mountains upon mountains and thinking of the agonizing journey before my friend. And praying. Sometimes that is the best you can do.

And be grateful of course. Be grateful for every beautiful sunset you are blessed to see, for every mountain you've been given the strength to climb, for every hard working husband who drags himself to work each day, for every distant son who surprises you and texts a brief hello, for every diligent college boy who calls with news of excellent grades, for every daughter who loves to train her dog to leap over jumps and skitter through tunnels on command, for every dog that lies at your feet snoring all night.

He who made the joyful easy things made the painful hard things too. How can we accept the one and not trust Him in the other? Meanwhile friends, it is very hard to do so, and I am praying.

Psalm 3:4 NIV

I call out to the Lord,
and he answers me from his holy mountain.

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The Sitting Contest

Every time we pass dogs when we are out walking, my own dogs go ballistic. I have learned that the only way I can keep my arm attached to my body, which is definitely to be preferred, is whenever I see dogs in the distance, I make my dogs sit and "wait".  The other dogs would then pass by, often lunging and barking themselves, but my dogs would  be still and on the surface appear to be well-behaved good canine citizens. Should I become smug and prideful and attempt to pass the other dogs without using this strategy, my very opportunistic pets would immediately revert into wild and uncontrollable beasts, lunging and barking and making me look like I did not deserve to be a dog owner, which is indeed the closely guarded but true secret.

Unfortunately, other dog owners began to catch on. They also did not like having their arms wrenched out of the acetabulum, which is the mobile but unstable shoulder socket. So other dog owners, when they saw us in the distance, would make their dogs sit. Now we had a stalemate. Neither of us dared move, knowing how expensive shoulder surgery could be.  So we would edge closer, then make the dogs sit again. Dogs all over the neighborhood were beginning to learn to be calm when other dogs passed, as long as they were sitting. The problem was that we were all out for "walks", not "sits".  On the other hand, the nice benefit was while we were all sitting, waiting for the other owner to make the next move, we began to chat. I was slowly growing to know people in my community. Bad dogs could lead to good things, I learned.

And this is often the case. What looks like wretched and painful trials can result in wonderful things if we persevere. If we can manage to hang in there, and look beyond the naughty dog on the end of the taut leash, we sometimes see a sweet and kind neighbor we might otherwise have missed entirely.  Perhaps that is part of why James admonishes us in the book that bears his name to "count it all joy when you encounter many trials." Joy? Joy when we are struggling beyond what we are certain we can bear? In all things? I don't think so, James......And yet, time and time again, when I do manage to hang in there beyond the trial and look back, I do see that what I gained usually exceeds what I lost. 

I suspect this is key to living life with joy no matter what. Trusting that the trials are leading to something far greater and often beyond what we can see. Hang in there, whispers God, and make your dog sit. Then, when the barking is stilled, listen in the silence for Me.

James 1: 2-12
² Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³ because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ⁴ Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. ⁵ If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. ⁶ But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. ⁷ That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. ⁸ Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.  ⁹ Believers in humble circumstances ought to take pride in their high position. ¹⁰ But the rich should take pride in their humiliation—since they will pass away like a wild flower. ¹¹ For the sun rises with scorching heat and withers the plant; its blossom falls and its beauty is destroyed. In the same way, the rich will fade away even while they go about their business.
 ¹² Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

Never ending supply of woes

I think Honeybun spent our 12 days away from her by gnawing on her toes. As a result, when we brought her to the vet for all her yearly vaccines and mentioned we'd noticed a small sore between her toes, the vet noticed a swollen pad and small sores we had not. The vet was a sweet young thing, far too young to have graduated from anything but elementary school to my eyes, and told us that it was likely due to some allergy, either food or environmental.  Honeybun had already faced the degradation of having her anal glands manually expressed, a function that in my opinion, no dog should ever ever be unable to perform on their own. And now, she was itching herself out of an agility job, with her chewing at her paws.  Of course, when I told Asherel, she was delighted, "Does this mean I can get her dog booties?"

Honeybun has hats, dresses, coats, shirts, PJs and even a dog swimsuit, but I have drawn a line in the sand over dog shoes. Ironically, they might actually not be a bad idea....

So armed with a bag of medicines, including instructions for daily foot soaks that involve keeping her paw in a cup of warm medicine soak for 5-10 minutes, we headed home. Honeybun looked depressed, despite the fact that Asherel had bought her a cute pink hat that said, "I'm Perfect". I think she suspected agility training would be suspended for a few days, and she doesn't necessarily love the agility part, but she does love the food rewards. Meanwhile, we are also dosing her with benadryl. If it is a food allergy, this won't help, but if environmental it will.

So foot soak time arrived and I had Asherel straight jacket Honeybun in a tight football hold against her chest. The five minutes were still the slowest 5 minutes in history. First, Honeybun was sure the foot soak was edible and kept trying desperately to escape the throttle hold so she could eat the bowl of medicine. Then she finally acquiesced- tail slung between her legs, ears back, face pathetically woebegone.  As the 5 minutes thankfully elapsed, I lifted the foot to apply the topical medicine. That was when I realized I had soaked the wrong foot.

I had just exchanged a series of emails with a sweet dear friend who makes Job's troubles sound like play time.  She said many profound things, one of which was that she didn't know what God was trying to teach her, but knew that understanding was not needed to claim His grace.  What a beautiful thought!  So much we don't understand. There would be no Grace were it contingent upon understanding.

I know some things are clear about trials. God almost never explains His purpose specifically but He always supplies His presence through them. They may appear otherwise, but are always administered in love from Someone with a perspective we cannot have.  What often looks like the worst thing that could happen to us, can turn out to be the pivotal moment of growth, self awareness, clarification of who we are in the essence of our relationship with God and with others. They are rarely easy, but they always change our character and our perspective....whether for better or for worse seems to be something that we can control and I suspect is at the core of God's purpose in sending them.

 This morning when I looked at Honeybun's foot, the sore was gone. The pad seemed much better, and the Benadryl seems to have helped her itchiness. I know my friend probably didn't awaken to a trouble free morning, but I know she still nestled in God's football hold as she faced the soaking struggles of the day.

2 Corinthians 12:9
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

Character Molding Day

As I was toweling off, thinking shuddering chills in 95 degree weather was not a good sign, I noticed little red hives creeping all over for midriff. As I watched, new ones popped out, mocking me.
"This can't be good," I thought.
I read the literature on the medicine I was on.
" Rash or hives indicative of possible severe allergic reaction. Contact your physician immediately."
I was having no trouble breathing so I knew I was probably not going to die at least in the next few minutes, but went in to review with Asherel the 911 procedure should I drop to the floor in the middle of emptying the dishwasher.
"They will talk you through how to revive me so be sure to stay on the phone," I said to the eye rolling girl who was not taking this as seriously as I would have liked.
The doc would see me in a few hours, but if I stopped breathing and they needed to cancel the appointment, let them know.

So as I had presciently warned myself in yesterday's blog post, rarely does everything go right. Almost always, God feels the need to work on some deficiency in my character and He unerringly uses trials and tribulations to get His point across. I had an inkling of the point He might be driving home.

"Are you sure you can't work me earlier in the doctor's schedule?" I asked, still calm and respectful,"Because I am pretty sure this is an allergic reaction and I am feeling a little scared."
This is the point at which I usually burst into tears and begin wailing and gnashing teeth. Woe to the receptionist that stands between me and my goal.
However, I am sick and tired of these lessons about patience and kindness and I know God is not going to stop sending them until I show some sort of growth in this area.
So instead of my usual begging and badgering, I simply said, "If there is a cancellation, can you work me in?" (If I am still alive, I will be there, I added mentally.)

Lo and behold, a few minutes later, there was a cancellation. I zipped off to the doctor, chills and fever growing, and rash still spreading.
While checking in, feeling pretty awful, I noticed the lineup of pictures on the office waiting area wall. The office sponsored a series of Harris YMCA Little league baseball teams in the mid 90s.
"Hmm," I thought as I gazed at them,"That is when Matt played little league."
I moved closer to look at the team of '96. There was my little gap toothed, bespeckled, grinning boy! My little 8 year old was smiling at me and the memories of that magnificent but also hard year when my 40 year old body was struggling with pregnancy, sick for every one of the days of gestation. I also remembered the big lesson Matt learned that year. He desperately wanted to be a fielder, either first or second base I think, but he was designated the catcher. He hated that position and was horribly distraught. But after a series of discussions with him and his coaches, he came to me and told me, "Mom, I am going to go out and be the best catcher I can be. I am going to bloom where I am planted."

I too was blooming where I was planted. My rash bloomed across my entire trunk like a rose.
But I thought about how easy it is to bloom when you are happy with the circumstances. But when you don't get what you want, when you are waiting or scared, how easy it is to let your character disintegrate, your witness of God's redemptive love dissolve, your happiness really only hinge on how successfully you can manipulate the world....and God.

The doctor told me my oxygen intake was 100%, no wheezing, so while this was clearly an allergic reaction, it had been several hours since the last dose and I did not appear to be in any danger. I was prescribed new medicine and sent home, with all the dire warnings should the condition worsen.

On my way out the door, I glanced at my 8 year old Matt, his smile blossoming on a dreary day.

1Peter 1: 6-7
⁶In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. ⁷These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.

Always Something....

The car was all packed, the dogs seatbelted in place for their ride to their Doggy Vacation Isle, all my forms for the big Double Header this coming week (Matt's graduation and DI Globals) neatly collated and stacked and carefully placed in chronological order in my zip case, when the first of the inevitable "always something" happened.

"The snake doesn't work," said Asherel, reading a last email before we shot out the door.
My bones turned to slime and I oozed to the floor.
The snake is a pivotal character in our DI Skit and I don't want to spoil any secrets right before Globals, but he does some amazing things when he works. Which now, he doesn't. We had sent the giant snake off to another team member's house for safekeeping and transport to Globals since my van is full and also waylaid first at a UVa graduation. Giant snakes are not invited. It didn't matter that our day was chock full.... we had to fix the snake. We made some hurried arrangements with the family to return with duct tape and ingenuity after dropping the dogs.

When we saw our beloved dog guru, I asked how she was was and she was not fine. Dogs were everywhere and one had apparently spent much of the day peeing on her floor. The house smelled and looked great to me, but as you may have surmised from past posts, my standards leave much to be desired.
"I don't get paid," she said, and added something along the lines of there was always something horrible happening.
I handed her my check,"Yes you do!"
"No, I don't , this goes right to the vet."

We hurried home after our dogs were escorted to their rooms and served champagne and sirloin bones, to the giant malfunctioning snake. None of the things that were supposed to work on the snake were working. And this was just after being transported a half mile. What would happen over the 4 hour drive to Knoxville? He might be a giant wombat by the time he arrived!

But Asherel and team went to work and 2 hours later, the snake worked.... sort of. They hope with more duct tape and repairs and fairy dust in Knoxville, they will get him up to full working order. We wrapped him in a giant sleeping bag so that only his fangs showed, and that we tied closed. He looked like Little Red Riding Python.

So, relieved that dogs were settled, snake was working, and I was almost all packed and ready, we sighed a huge sigh and walked into the barkless house. All was still and quiet. If I squinted, it looked clean.....except.... what was that on the floor?

I know you all are thinking that God in His infinite wisdom and desire to shower me with blessing left me the other diamond earring, the pair to the mysterious one I found a couple of days ago. If I were God, that would be the happy ending of this story. But, it may surprise you to learn, I am not God, and that was not to be the happy ending of this story. On the floor was a tooth. A large molar. That is really bad enough, but it was not a whole tooth. It was half a tooth. That means half a tooth remained dangling, likely throbbing, perhaps infecting in someone's mouth. I ran my tongue over my molars.

"Asherel, do you have all your teeth?"
"Last I checked."
"Check again."

I emailed our doggy concierge. It is highly likely that one of our dogs has half a tooth. If your vet feels he needs to have it pulled, let us know.

And I remembered her prophetic statement, "It all goes to the vet."
We don't operate a dog rescue so our pay doesn't all go to the vet...though more than I would like does indeed go that route. But it goes to doctors, and dentists, and roofers, and repairmen, and curriculum developers, and Lowes Depot for giant snake construction..... All money is used for is redistribution. None of us are really "paid".... we are all just momentary holding pens, some more momentary than others. And there is always something to be upset about.... always.

I begin to see more and more why James in the Bible admonishes us to "count it all joy when we encounter trials...."
I think there are many reasons for this, but not the least of it is that much of life is trial... and if you don't count it joy, joy might be hard to find. In the final accounting, the joyful life is probably not the one who only found diamonds, but the one who found broken teeth and still smiled.

James 1:2-3
²Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.

PS- blogs may be few or even absent over the next many days while we attend graduation and DI globals.

Climbing Mountains

One of my favorite movies is The Sound of Music. When I was a little girl, I always pretended to be Julie Andrews and went on long walks and long bike rides singing songs from that musical. When I was in need of encouragement, I sang Climb Every Mountain. I had to either scare away all little creatures with the impossibly high "till you find your dream!" concluding notes, or drop it an octave. If I was high on a deserted mountain top, I would shriek it out and the poor daisies in the field would close their petals.

I had a favorite mountain to climb in Binghamton, NY. We lived in the foothills of the Adirondacks. The mountain was across the street from our neighborhood, covered with forests and open fields, and it was huge. It rivaled Mt. Everest. I would often pack a lunch and head for the hills, singing under my breath until I hit the deserted slope, and then I would belt out, "Climb every mountain, search high and low, follow every by-way, every path you know...." while puffing up the steep scale, huffing to the distant peak. In the back of my mind, I knew that had I not packed lunch, surely I would have died on that precipice, my last ounce of strength exerted to reach the summit. Besides singing at the top of my lungs, I would contemplate life, and goals, and heartbreak. But I would soldier on, determined, fortified by the message of the song, and when I reached the peak, I would gaze out for hundreds of miles across a land studded with possibilities and dreams. I had conquered the mountain and thought perhaps I would be able to summon the strength now for ninth grade.

As an adult, I return often to visit my folks in Binghamton, NY. The "mountain" is covered with houses now. No open fields or forests of hope remain. And someone also shrunk the mountain. I don't know how they did it, but it is now just a bump, a small hill. I still shake my head every time I see it. What happened to the mountain?

I suspect that is similar to how I will feel someday, standing in Heaven, looking back over the eternity of my life that lasted but a moment. I think I will be smiling, probably with my old cat Friskey on my lap, and I will wonder where did all those unscalable mountains go?

Genesis 49:26
Your father's blessings are greater than the blessings of the ancient mountains, than the bounty of the age-old hills.