Snickers

I thought since the hair on top of his head looked like a poodle, he wouldn’t shed. I was wrong. He sheds and I still have to cut his hair every few months, which turns him into a Dr. Seuss character for a while.

Mom decided I needed a new dog about six months after I lost my seventeen-year-old poodle. We brought this 24 pound ball of fur home, and he latched onto Mom, staying by her side, sleeping with her, leading the way in front of her walking… then walking with her cane…. her walker… then in her power wheelchair.

His name is Snickers. Every person he meets, he’s their best friend and will lick their toes for good measure if they’re wearing flip-flops. That’s probably because he was adopted out twice and returned twice… he probably thinks the next person may be his new owner. But his third adoption took.

Snickers came from a hoarding situation in a town about 30 miles from here, but it made the news because the Humane Society rescued 144 dogs from one house. The owners had moved into a shed and let the dogs have the run of their home. The dogs lived and ate and slept in huge piles of feces. I saw a picture online that someone took when they opened the door. Dozens of eyes reflected in the photo, and yet that was only a fraction. I hope those people got professional help, because what they were doing to those poor dogs was certifiably crazy.

Snickers has nightmares. He’ll start howling the most pitiful-sounding howls. His eyes are open, but he’s sound asleep and it’s sometimes hard to wake him up to stop howling. I wonder if his nightmares are from his old life. I tell him regularly how glad we are that he lives with us now.

Snickers is deaf and almost blind, so it was no problem to take him to the fireworks show or the Christmas parade with the emergency vehicle sirens. His bark is extremely loud, but it doesn’t bother him a bit.

He has separation anxiety, and he won’t even stay in a room by himself. He would scratch at his metal crate until he either got out or his paws bled. We stopped putting him in it. He tore up the drapes and window shade in Mom and Dad’s room trying to get out of the house. He somehow scratched off the glass panels that held the built-in metal shades on the French doors in the kitchen.

But eventually, Mom had to stay home all the time, and he calmed down. He was on her bed the day ALS took her life, and he kept looking for her around the house. That broke my heart.

Then he latched onto me.

He even has to go with me to the bathroom and everywhere else around the house. When I’m doing chores from room to room, he wears himself out trying to keep up with me, getting settled, shutting his eyes, then getting up and moving when I leave the room. You can’t reason with him. I’ve tried. He just looks at me with those sweet, brown eyes and follows me anyway.

About five months after Mom passed away, we took in another little dog that had been rescued by some friends. Rolo and Snickers are great pals. He doesn’t read her signals right, though, and can’t hear her mad yips when he gets too rough playing with her. Rolo’s smart, and comes and tells me when she wants to go outside. She knows when I pick up my tea glass, that I’m going to get the soft ice from the garage freezer. The vacuum scares her. Snickers walks beside the vacuum as I’m vacuuming.

Twice she came into the house from the backyard and whined after a few minutes. She never whines. Both times Snickers had gotten out of the yard, and she was telling on him. Thank heavens. Our biggest fear is for him to be in the street and a car come along, assuming he’ll hear them and get out of the way. But he can’t hear them.

Snickers keeps his thinking pretty shallow, and he’s socially awkward. He’ll sometimes mimic what Rolo is doing, but he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing or why. He’ll fight another dog (my grand-dog Trixie), but only if provoked. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. If an intruder came into the house, he’d probably lick their feet and follow them from room to room. Rolo would act like she would eat them alive and bring the house down barking.

We can’t take Snickers anywhere without him feeling obligated to mark everything in sight, so we have to keep a diaper on him if we travel anywhere. He’s such a pain in the derriere at times, but he tugs at my heartstrings regularly, so it balances out.

 

As I type these words, Snickers is sleeping at my feet at this moment, lightly touching my right shoe so he’ll know when I get up.

I’ve stopped writing now, but I think I’ll wait a few moments before I move.

Quotes Learned from Experience

The following observations are from things I've learned throughout the past four decades.

I was that 10 year old girl again...

...standing up there paralyzed on the gymnasium stage in Dell City, Texas ready to say my poem for UIL Poetry, but I could only remember the title of the poem and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I might have won if everyone else had gone blank on their poems, too. For a good 25 years after that, it terrified me to get up in front of people, and I have a good resume of humiliating myself time and time again, or avoiding getting up in front of people at all costs if I could help it. 

On Friday, we were in a courtroom in Waco, Texas to watch my granddaughter participate in a mock trial in front of a real judge and a jury made up of three adults, two of whom were actual lawyers.  They all had given up an entire work day to listen to these students (average age of 14) defend and prosecute an actual case from history. The students were not allowed to look up the verdict or anything about the case other than the evidence they were given about it. The teams were from Austin, Waco, and Abilene, and our kids were up against Waco first. 

The judge was awesome, making everyone do a chicken dance to loosen everybody up. He knew this was nerve-wracking for all involved. 

Each team would try the case as the prosecution and a second time as the defense. Our team  played the role of prosecutors on their first trial. We all were told at the beginning that no matter what the jury decided, there were no winners or losers. But the very confident Waco team pretty well shellacked us on all fronts. 

One of our young ladies froze up on the closing argument, and the judge decided to give everyone a five minute recess to let her gather her thoughts. We came back, and she froze up again for what seemed like an eternity, and everybody's heart went out to her. The judge finally closed the case, and the jury left to deliberate.

When the jurors came back, it was no surprise that they decided for Waco, although I thought the defendant was guilty as sin. The prosecution failed to prove her guilt, though. Each of the jurors shared their critiques of everyone on each team-- praising them for what they did right; and telling them what they could do better. 

And each one of them addressed this precious young lady who couldn't get a word out on her closing argument. They told her that they had all experienced what she had-- and that God had a plan for her life. She sat with her head down, crying softly. The last one to speak was one of the lawyers. He talked to her for a moment, calling her by name, and then stopped and told her to look up at him. 

I couldn't even look at her to see if she did, my eyes were riveted on the man. I felt like he was talking to the 10-year-old in me that had forgotten her poem up on stage in front of those judges all those years ago. And the teenager who just about fainted when she had to get up in front of the FHA Chapter in high school, and the young singer in the church choir who felt like a big wad of cotton filled her mouth from the fear that somebody might be watching her. And the college student who shook so badly trying to make a presentation, she could hardly hold the poster board. And many other terrifying experiences.

The lawyer said that God doesn't use hammers or wrenches to work on us. He uses experiences like she just went through. He called it a trial by fire, and that we all will go through them as God molds us and shapes us. He told her what they were doing that day, which was deciding someone's fate, was one of the most difficult things they could do. He commended her for her courage, and the fact that she stayed in there with her team. He spoke longer, and I cannot remember exactly what else he said, but it was one of the most inspiring and encouraging talks I'd ever heard. I kept thinking, how I wish someone had said those words to me all those years ago. 

You should've seen that young lady during the second trial. She was a different person-- so confident and eager to play her role. The jury came back with a split decision, deciding in favor of our team. 

I realized that God even uses a young girl's awkward moment for a greater purpose. We never would've heard the most important message of that day if this young lady hadn't frozen up. I'm sure I wasn't the only 10-year-old grandmother or mother or father sitting in those seats that day. 

The Church Is Full of Flawed People - Part II

Yes, the church is full of flawed people, but someone wise said, "God loves us too much to leave us the way we are."* When God entered my life, I was a new creation, but that didn't mean I quit making mistakes. Throughout my life, I've found myself having to adjust my 'want to' or habits because sometimes they pull me certain directions that keep me from growing or living the best way possible. And every person's path is unique. I want to repeat that because what I am going to share applies to my journey with the Lord. Every person's path is unique.

Years ago when I was in my twenties, God impressed on my mind that I needed to quit watching my ONE soap opera. But Lord, it's only one! Some people watch soaps all day long! But the prompting didn't go away. That was hard, especially when God didn't give my mother the same prompting, and she had TWO favorite soap operas. : ) But He wasn't talking to her about her soap operas. He was talking to me about my soap opera, and I quit watching it. And my precious, godly Mother continued to watch her two soaps for the rest of her life. Different paths.

A while back, I was reading a book I really enjoyed, although it had some steamy scenes I would skim over, but I felt a nudge to put it down. I was close to the end of this book, and I tried to tell myself that little voice was just my own mind feeling guilty about enjoying something. But the thought entered my head, What if it wasn't? Is finishing this book more important than following God's leading? I shut the book and turned it back in to the library without finishing it. It felt similar to exercising a little will power turning down a calorie-laden dessert, which I should've done more often in my life. [obviously, Donna]

This past year, more and more of my time in the evening has been filled with watching a long list of my favorite TV shows. And I felt the nudge again last Saturday-- the day before the season finale of Downton Abbey! I thought, No, Lord, not this one! Surely, that thought was a figment of my imagination or some twisted guilty instinct that rears up when I start enjoying something too much. I wasn't too happy about it, but I didn't watch it, nor the other four shows I faithfully watched on Sunday nights.

And I whined to several Christian friends, hoping they would tell me this was all in my head, giving me permission to go ahead and watch the shows. But they didn't. In fact, one of them asked me if my TV watching was hindering my walk with the Lord somehow. Oh, you mean like hours and hours of escapism? I pat myself on the back that I don't watch TV during the day, but other than Saturday night, I had my list of favorites, even DVRing the ones that overlapped. I can easily replace 'living my life' with living vicariously through books or social media or TV shows, and God knows that about me and has to remind me every so often to let go and start living for reals. [No, movies haven't affected me at all]. 

Unplugged

Something happens, though, when I follow God's leading. It feels like the spiritual pipes become unplugged. God may very well allow me to watch these shows again, because it's not necessarily the shows that are bad (although sometimes it is), but rather how they're affecting my thoughts or stealing time away from writing or connecting with people or the maintenance of life or simply living life or most importantly... Him.

God may prompt us to stop going somewhere or loosen up on relationships that are affecting us negatively or changing bad habits. But we mustn't look at other people's lives and try to pattern ourselves after them. God works differently in every life, and the model for each of us is Christ.

A dear friend invited me to attend Community Bible Study, which is open to anyone. The study is in-depth, and it was no accident that my lesson this morning was on Romans 12:2 - "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is-- his good, pleasing and perfect will." God's timing is amazing.

Yes, the church is full of flawed people, but we go to church to heal and grow and be transformed, to connect with others who are attempting to do the same. Forgive us if the church has made you feel otherwise.


*I first heard that statement in my Sunday School class, and I looked it up to give credit to who first said it, but I found it quoted on many websites with no attribution. But it speaks much truth, and thank you to whoever wrote it. 

The Church Is Full of Flawed People!

I've heard people say that they don't attend church because it's full of hypocrites. Sadly, that's true, but  here's a news flash. The church is full of sinners, flawed people who struggle with relationships, addictions, obesity, over judging, prejudice, guilt, shame, narcissism, impatience, approval-seeking, procrastination, misunderstanding, pride, lack of confidence, insecurity, fear, distrust, denial, selfishness-- oops, sorry. That was just my list of sins I was reading off.

But what those on the outside looking in don't realize, and actually they're on the outside just looking at the outside of the Church, is that a relationship with God isn't based on our performance or pedigree or goodness or number of nice things we've done for others, which tilts the scale in our favor. None of us would ever reach God that way. The world works that way, but not God, and that's sometimes hard for us to understand.

A relationship with God is based on what He's done for us through His Son Jesus. There's this pesky thing called sin we all have to deal with in this life. God and sin don't mix, but He made a way for sinful man to be right with Him through having His Son Jesus take the penalty for our sins through his sacrificial death. If we've put our trust in Christ (who's alive, btw), his rightness/righteousness allows us to connect with God.

If it had been up to us to work up this plan of redemption, we would've made it less messy, more convenient, works-based, hard-to-attain-but-easy-to-live-out rather than the opposite.

The Church, and I'm referring to those who have a relationship with God through Jesus, has its history of failures. For too long, the church gave off the appearance that only people who had it all together attended, people who didn't blatantly sin or make big mistakes like the rest of the world did. Many of us faithfully put on our masks most Sunday mornings, pretending all was right in our world. And that was what we focused on... our world... those things and people we felt most comfortable around. The messy world outside was far away. If they wanted to know Christ, they had to come to us. Pass the offering plate, and let someone else evangelize.

But then we didn't know how to talk to the divorcee who was broken and desperately needing support and love. We just smiled and kept things on the surface where the difficult parts of life could easily be ignored and passed by. We didn't know how to deal with people who struggled with addictions or those who faced losing their homes after they lost their jobs. And what about the gay community? Too many in the Church hope that issue stays in some other town so we don't have to deal with it. But it's here, and God loves and values them just as much as He does us.

What many of us sort of forgot along the way of playing church, is that the Church is exactly where God wants all of these struggling people. And since too many of us haven't been faithful enough to go to them, He's pulling the blinders off of his precious children for us to see that all of these struggles are already in the Church. They were simply hiding behind masks of expectations and pride. Lord, help us.

We are all flawed. 

We are all in desperate need for redemption. The only difference is that some of us flawed folks recognize that our only hope is accepting God's grace through Jesus Christ.

That, my friend, is the true Church, warts and all.

Civil Discourse: A Lost Skill?

At the bed and breakfast table sat a dyed-in-the-wool liberal and leader in the Democratic Party of Austin, a gracious hostess with a PhD in historical architecture, a couple celebrating their anniversary weekend, three of my friends, and I. We all had varying degrees of differences in our political views-- even among my friends and me. But that made a great mix for conversation, and we enjoyed it very much.

We even delved into the risky waters of politics, but that was interesting and even enjoyable because everyone remained civil, which seems to be a lost art in our world today. The liberal woman made a really good point about everyone needing to pay their part for education-- not just the property owners. I hadn't really thought about that before, other than the fact that property owners pay for everyone else's education year after year, and that didn't seem fair. If she had stated her opinion in a hateful way or even in a condescending, speaking down to everyone like we were stupid, I wouldn't have heard a word she said. But she stated her points succinctly and respectfully, and it made sense.

I get so tired of the ugliness on both sides of the aisle in politics, and especially on social media. When one woman posted on Facebook that President Obama had visited her son's school and actually patted her son's head, she said she regretted prematurely treating her son's head for lice, or something ugly to that effect. Shocking to read, isn't it, my liberal friends.

But actually, it was former President George Bush that had visited her son's school and had patted her son's head that she had made tacky statement about. How does it feel now?

Whatever side you're on, or even it you're in the middle, that statement should make you feel uncomfortable, no matter whom it was directed towards. Or the vicious cycle continues.

I can't look at that woman's posts now and consider anything she says as valid. I can say the same about those folks who pass on damaging rumors without even checking to see if they are true.

How are we ever going to come together and accomplish anything for the good of our country, our state, our community, our churches, schools and organizations, and even our own families if we can't be civil expressing our views and beliefs and ideas?

Speak with hate to attract other haters and to be avoided by everyone else.

Speak with wisdom and hate to be muted and disregarded.

Speak with wisdom and respect to be heard and considered.