Moses and Peter

I was reading in Exodus today the record of Moses, as he argued with God. "They won't believe you sent me." So God gave him the words to say and signs to convince them. He persisted and then objected, but I can't speak well. I'm don't speak clearly or quickly. You know, he told God, hey, you got the wrong guy. I'm not a public speaker. I can't do what you told me. It's almost as if he was saying he had a speech impediment.

You know what God's response was? He said, aren't I the one who made you? Don't you think I can give you the ability you need?

On a day when I am feeling like such a failure for my inability to keep a clean, orderly and organized house, feeling defeated by my FM, my ADD, my arthritis...it's as if God reached down and said, Do you think I'm surprised by any of this? I know all about your physical disabilities. If you will depend on me, I will give you the strength and resources to do this job.

So, what I need to to is really depend on God for all, refusing to give in to defeat. If he says I can do this, then he will give me the ability and I will know it is him and not me, cause I've given it over 25 years in my own strength and my own striving.

So, I worked as long as I could on the problem, quitting only when the aching go too bad. I intended it to be a break, but the ache didn't leave. Sometimes it affects me that way, one arm or the other, sometimes both, a leg, the back, the neck, ankles, someplace will develop an ache that makes me feel I have no strength left. I have to convince myself that I have the strength to drive, or pick things up or grab a book, whatever.

Perhaps that is the issue. Perhaps most of us have strength we don't know about, because we are created in the image of God. So if the creator says, "I want you to do this" then you can count on him to give you his strength and wisdom. Not to make you someone entirely different, but empowering you with His strength in your weakness.

After all, Peter walked on the water when Jesus called. You know what's interesting? The original language (I have been told) makes it clear that Jesus wasn't speaking just to Peter when he gave the invitation. Peter was the only one who stepped out of the boat.

Moses balked and God provided a mouthpiece for him through Aaron. Peter stepped out in faith and walked on water. Moses journey took him back to Egypt and into the company of slaves distressed with their bondage. It took him to face Pharaoh over and over and over. It took him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt and through the desert. Peter's journey took him over the side of the boat. It seemed to be a short journey, but Peter walked by Jesus' side when the soldier's came to take him away. He leaped to his defense and cut off a soldier's ear. He followed closed by, scared and alone, as Jesus was tried illegally. His failures were noted, but following Jesus' death and resurrection, and the day of Pentecost, Peter spoke openly to the crowd about Jesus.

So I can be empowered to do the things that I need to do as well.

Savoring Temptation

I've been thinking on the nature of temptation. More precisely, on why some temptations are so hard to resist and so hard to get over. Whether that temptation is for a chocolate brownie or something else, what is it that keeps the temptation alive?

Sometimes for me, it is that I allow myself to savor the temptation(let's call it a brownie). There is a deliciousness to the desire that simply feels good. Whether it releases pleasure chemicals in the brain or there is something else going on, it is so incredibly appealing that I don't want to let go of the temptation itself. I allow myself to think about the brownie, and soon I can smell it, I can feel myself lifting it to my mouth--oh, it's warm from the oven. I can feel the cakey gooeyness on my lips and can taste the rich, chocolatey flavor. I can feel my teeth striking a not quite fully melted chocolate chip, and can feel the endorphins release.

There is nothing wrong with a brownie, and perhaps your other temptations as well, as long as they are in the right context. In a reasonably healthy and moderate diet, and occasional brownie is a wonderful thing. The problem comes when we would rather have that brownie than the healthy foods that provide proper nutrition, or when we will eat it even when we are full, or when it becomes the staple of our diet.

What about the nature of flirtation, either expressed or merely in one's own head? See the pleasure of anticipation is a wonderful thing. It can be a great part of dating, engagement and marriage, but when a man or a woman savors a thought of that outside of that relationship, or with someone who is either married, engaged, or is otherwise completely inappropriate, it's trouble. And the same things we must do to avoid the brownie temptation we must do to avoid the inappropriate flirtation and fantasies.

If you are having trouble with brownies, you stay out of the bakery! You don't bring them home and say, well, I'll just have a little now and save the rest for another day, when you know you won't do that. If you're having trouble with fantasy or flirtation, you avoid that person. In both situations, and with other temptations as well, you discipline your mind. When you find yourself mentally savoring the object of your desire, you change your thoughts. Go for a run, call a friend, read a book, read the Bible, pray. Don't allow yourself to luxuriate in thoughts and desires for things you should not have! Flee temptation.

I was watching a show the other day where the lead character was following the path of betrayal. As it unfolded I found myself wanting to shout, "Run away! Hide! Leave!" But, of course, she didn't, because we are told in our culture that we cannot help these attractions. Also, we don't want to look like idiots running away. So her relationship was destroyed, and her affair ended, and she was none the wiser, just in a lot of pain. None of her friends told her the truth, though one kind of tried, they were just "there for her". Whatever that means.

Gosh, I hope my friends would be there for me too, but with love and truth, not love and wishy-washy platitudes. See, I've been taken to task by friends at times, and when it is done by people who love me and will stick by me, it has made a profound difference in my life and in my behavior and attitudes. I have a greater respect for people who will speak the truth in love. It is the harder path to take. It's riskier.

But when it comes to resisting or even fleeing temptation, what is the risk? Looking foolish? People who really love you (and have a working brain and common sense) will be proud of you for doing what it takes not to mess up your life. They will be pleased that you will do the right thing even when it's hard or embarrassing.

But what happens when we give in and allow ourselves to merely enjoy the desire. Well, desire gives birth to lust and lust to action (sin), and that action has terrible consequences. The Bible talks about sin birthing death. Well, certainly in the TV show, the death was to the relationship. There was the terrible wounding of other people. In the case of the brownie temptation, well too many of those and you'll have yourself a case of obesity, and that leads to diabetes, heart disease, stroke... None of those are on the "good" list.

So what do we do when the brownie calls to us? Put a stop to it! Some people do this by sticking a piece of strong mint gum in their mouth, or by drinking a glass of water. Some might take a short jog, or meditate on a verse of Scripture. Some might call a friend. I just say, do whatever it takes. The verse I think about is Romans 13:14 "Make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof." I have a version in my head that is almost the same...don't know why the words are slightly different, but this is how I recall it: make no provision for the fless, to satisfy the lusts thereof. This verse runs through my mind when I pick up a package of Oreos. It runs through my mind when I open the freezer for ice, only to find that someone has bought Entennman's chocolate glazed donuts. It runs through my mind when other temptations face me. I'm thinking about getting it painted on my refrigerator door.

Make no provision for the flesh.

I so wish I had written this....

The Interview (click here to see the original posting)

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tops of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human…

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children. It doesn’t interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustained you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

-Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Two Kinds of People

Ihave never accepted the premise that there are "two kinds of people". You know what I mean..."there are two kinds of people, those who love country music and those who hate it", "...those who love Neil Diamond and those who hate him", "...dog lovers and everyone else".

I started out wanting to say that anyone who is not a dog lover cannot fathom my grief over the loss of my dear canine companion, Barney.

I don't believe that's true, though, now that I think about it. I caught the tail end of a very stupid TV show the other day where a kid was grieving over the loss of his chameleon. The writing was terrible and the acting worse, and though I personally cannot warm up to the cold-blooded species, I could certainly feel for someone's loss.

Even so, I wonder...what makes some friends respond so lovingly and gently to the grief I feel over losing my dog (two people even sent me cards!), and some ignore it completely? One friend drove me and my dog to the vet and another one offered. My friend sat with me afterward for several hours, helping me get through, and then offered to go with me to pick up his ashes two days later.

Others merely questioned my decision, I know they were hoping there was some way I didn't have to go through this, but some questioned and felt I was wrong. Fortunately both vets I consulted said this was what had to be done and that I was doing the right thing. I knew I was, but it helped to hear it.

My precious puppy (at over 10 years old) had been getting more and more nervous over the past few months. I wasn't sure what to make of it, and it had only become a point of puzzlement, not concern, though to spare him, I would put him in the garage or laundry room when groups of people were over. I hadn't realized how much I had grown to distrust his reactions, but in retrospect I realize that I have been more and more careful to keep him from strangers or stressful situations.

Well, he got out and when he and my beagle came in contact with people, he got scared. The beagle is very friendly and will go to anyone who might provide food and/or a way home. A little boy threw himself around her, making Barney quite nervous and agitated. He began a low growl and showing all the fear signs in posture and vocalizations. The boy took compassion on him and threw himself on him to hug. Barney nipped at him, breaking the skin with one tooth. All witnesses say he reacted aggressively.

Now I am convinced that if Barney had wanted to hurt the boy, he would have done some real damage, but the fear-aggression response is too intense, and is one of the best indicators of a dog that will bite. Who knew? Not me. My very real fear, confirmed by both vets, is that this response was only likely to get worse, and the next time could be disfiguring or worse.

So I refused to allow myself to feel it, as much as possible, so that I could do the right thing, and now Barney is in a container on the mantle. This is not where he will stay, but my son is coming for a visit and dearly loved Barney, so I thought perhaps he would want to be part of the burial. We'll see. I can do it myself, but that would just emphasize the worst part of losing Barney...how very alone I feel without him and how very much I miss him.

Anyway, I think I have discovered that there are people who love dogs and can reach out to you in your own grief, those who love dogs and are paralyzed because of it, people who don't love dogs, but love you enough to care about your grief, and those who don't love dogs and are baffled by your reaction. Then there are those who care so little for the well-being of others that it defies their understanding that you would do something that would cause you so much pain for the benefit of others. For a few moments now and then I envy them their self-centeredness. If I could live with utter disregard for the safety of others I would have my buddy with me. If I could convince myself that what I want is right because I want it, I would not be so sad and depressed.

As selfish as I can be, I cannot go there. I could not live with the fear of something happening to a child who wandered onto our property and scared the dog. I could not live with the horror if something happened that I could have prevented.

So I held my buddy, with him looking trustingly into my face, as he died. Thank heavens for the touch typing course I took many years ago, because my eyes are so full of tears I can barely see as I write this. I never really thought much about what happens to animals when they die, but I hope Billy Graham, John Calvin, J. Vernon McGee and others are right when they said animals will be in heaven. It seems too sad to think that my faithful friend simply ceased to exist at all.

Anyway, I'm sure there are many different ideas on this, even among the Protestant community--dog people or not.

Hopeless cause

I got up this morning to find one of our mouse traps had been tripped. Strangely one of them was in the middle of the kitchen floor. I wasn't sure why, as we have had them on either side of the fridge for weeks with no takers (which was quite a relief). I remember seeing them both last night and thinking it was time to get rid of them as it was clear we do not have a mouse problem.

I wondered if Alex, home from college and a summer mission trip, saw them and decided to set one out, or if he or my husband, Steve, had seen a mouse last night and reset the traps.

In any case, I was upset because they had gotten up and left me with a dead mouse to take care of. I don't do rodents and I don't do dead. If it were up to me, we would simply have safe traps and I would release them far out in unpopulated fields. The deal has always been that if you use these kid of traps I won't argue, but you check them and get rid of the evidence before I can see it.

I didn't want to traipse around the thing all day, so I approached the trap to try to release the corpse for an ignominious burial in the trash. The instant I touched the trap it began to move. I shrieked and jumped halfway across the room as the critter dance the trap around in a wild circle with his back feet.

I know I should have clobbered him (or her, how can you tell?) but I couldn't do it, it was struggling so to survive. I decided that if this little guy would fight so for his life that I would release him outside and give him a chance, slight though it might be. I carefully approached the trapped mouse with a small stack of papers rescued from the trash to use to carefully sweep the mouse, trap and all into my red smiley face dustpan. He struggled a bit, but it was fairly easy. Grabbing a table knife to use to release the bar holding him in the trap, I carried him to the back yard. I released him near the woodpile, so he would have a place to hide either to recover or to die.

Surprisingly, he did not head for the woodpile, but made a very small journey, inches only, in the opposite direction. Still thinking that not providing him a swift death was probably the cruel thing to do, I could not help but feel pity for this creature struggling to live. I put a few peanuts near him and then went to view him from above on the deck.

When I checked him a few minutes later he had gotten himself into a small depression in the dirt about the size of a mango. "Poor thing." I thought. "There is no way you are going to be able to get out of there, injured as you are." I figured what I had done is probably just left him there as easy prey for a bird passing overhead. I sighed and went inside.

I could not stay away, but checked on him about ten minutes later. The hole was empty. Sure he had been lunch, I was surprised to find him a few inches to the side of the hole. Sadly, he was clearly dead, so I went to toss the body. Surprise, he moved.

Okay. That's enough. I grabbed a shoe box, lined with shredded newspaper and placed him inside, pulling some newspaper over him to give him the feeling of protection. Then I placed a cap full of water and a few peanuts in the box. He just lay there, so I dripped a couple of drops of water over his mouth. He greedily drank them down, so I gave him some more.

I don't know if the poor thing can or should survive, but last I checked he was still holding his own, unlike his poor buddy I found in the other trap.

Mice don't belong in the house, unless they are in a cage or in a children's storybook, but I can't stand these traps. If he survives, how am I going to keep him out of the house? Will he survive only to be left in the middle of some vacant field out in the country? Time will tell.

Summer Food

Ah summer. Despite hayfever, allergies, heat, sunburn, skunks and bugs, summer pleasures win out. Dinner at 93 degrees can be summer greens, fresh sliced tomato, and slices of grilled marinated steak. Or...a slice of three cheese bread covered in sliced tomato, fresh oregano and slices of cheese. Awesome! Or...when it seems entirely too hot, a half a chilled canteloupe refreshes nicely.

This is not the season for pot roast in gravy, chicken & dumplings, heavy pasta sauces or Aunt Barb's Swedish Meatballs. Meatloaf can wait. Light meals, no heat, iced drinks on the deck. Wonderful.

What are your favorite summer meals?

There Will Be Hair...

Well, the dreaded time has come. I really thought I would have to have the beagle euthanized, due to her back problems, but instead, I shall have to have my precious Barney put to sleep soon. Oh, my heart is broken. I can't tell you how much I hurt.

But Barney nipped a kid today. The reasons why don't matter. The fact remains that he is now a liability. Where he has nipped one kid, he could nip another. Fortunately this is a very minor injury, but people are more important than animals, even animals we love, so I cannot risk that this is some kind of fluke, or even provoked. How can I assume that? I can't. People, especially kids cannot be expected to know the proper way to deal with strange animals.

This has me thinking about the responsibilities of dog ownership. I want to tell you what to expect if you get a dog.

1. Vet visits. Shots, worming, kennel cough, the occasional injury, sometimes long-term treatment for an ailment. Well, that is a philosophical and practical issue deserving a full-article, but my personal opinion is that you should determine how much is too much to spend preserving a dog's life. It sounds crass, but think about it. Children are starving in other countries for the lack of a few dollars a day, and some of us may spend hundreds or even thousands on keeping an ailing pet around for a few years of ill health. I don't mean don't take care of your dog, but you need to determine in your own heart and mind what YOU believe is the line. For me, when the dog reaches at or close to their expected life span, it is not my wish to spend a great deal of money doing things that will only delay the inevitable. That's my choice.

2. Food. Another area of some debate, there are designer labels and custom blends, as well as your basic generic and all things in between. At any rate it'll cost money.

3. Grooming. If you are fortunate, you can do this task yourself for a long time, but you will still need canine shampoo, the appropriate brushes, perhaps electric clippers, nail clippers, etc. There may come a time when you physically cannot do the task yourself and the groomer is expensive! A good grooming can help cut down on shedding and mean less housework for you, though, so...

4. Smells. Dogs smell. Some simply have their own odor that you may find slightly unpleasant (my beagle has a "hound dog" scent that some find offensive, even when she has just been bathed.) Wet dogs smell. Period. Flatulence. There's nothing better than turning to your spouse and asking "Was that you?" to find that the source is your very best canine companion asleep at the foot of your bed.

5. Things you won't want to see. Dogs eat gross things. Dogs are keen on hunting down small critters. Well fed dogs will only mangle said critters, not devour them, and you may have to deal with that. I recommend you have lots of jangling tags or bells around their necks to scare the critters away.

6. Sounds. Dogs bark. Even my barkless Basenji/Akita mix is not truly barkless (because of the Akita), but instead barks only rarely. He will always bark at the next-door neighbor, however. The beagle barks at flies.

7. Hair. There will be hair. Everywhere. You will own multiple tape rollers, and you can remove all the hair at the front door, checking this way and that, but by the time you arrive at your office, your pooch will somehow have managed to have his hair all over your black pants. Dog hair will be wrapped around the felt pads of your chairs, it will wind up on top of the ceiling fan, it may wind up in the punch you serve for your parent's 50th anniversary party. That hair will be a reminder of your dog long, long after he is gone. You may go in to your dry cleaner and get scolded for having pet hair on your clothes.

8. Chewing. Mind don't chew much any more, and in fact never did--much. But My dog, Barney is a discriminating chewer. He may not chew anything but empty pop bottles for 5 years, but should your son get you a baseball cap from his college, and should said hat fall off the hook, it will be in many small pieces. Should you kick your red leather boots off next to the bed and should you fail to immediately pick them up and put them in the closet, Your pooch will ignore the tennis shoes under the table, the sandles by the dresser, the clogs peeking out from the closet for the past week and will dig out one of your boots and chew the toes out. Count on it.

9. Separation anxiety. Don't kid yourself, your dog will have this if you have a busy week at work, or have too many after school activities for your kid. Your dog may have this just with you being away at work.

10. Exercise. Dogs need it. You need it. You hate it. They love it.

11. Training. Cesar Millan may be able to control a dog within minutes, it will take you longer, and you will have to keep at it.

12. Kids love dogs. For few weeks they will want to take care of feeding, but then they will stop. The dogs want to eat anyway.

13. No one wants to clean up dog poop. It still has to be picked up.

14. Dogs break things. Their tales are longer than they think, they don't watch where they are going, and let's face it, they don't understand how important Aunt Delia's precious bell collection is to her. Aunt Delia will be suitably angry that you brought your ill-mannered pooch to visit and break her things.

15. You are going to get tired of caring for the dog. it may only be occassionally or when life is particularly stressful, but you still get to feed and walk and play with your dogs even when you don't feel like it. It's kind of like parenting without the back talk and body piercing.

16. If you can tolerate the mess, the dumped trash, the smells, the chewed boots, the occasional peeing in the house, the sick dog who pukes on your rug, and the expense, you will receive far more than you ever give.

17. Somebody will always be excited to see you.

18. Somebody won't remember that you were grumpy yesterday, or even five minutes ago.

19. Dogs are eternal optimists. You have to work pretty hard for them to expect bad stuff from you.

20. Dogs will forgive you your dumb mistakes.

21. Dogs try to please you.

22. Let me state #17 in a different way. Your dog will always be happy to see you, and the sight of those perky little ears peering out the window to catch a glimpse of you, or that tail wagging like crazy when you walk in the door will make you feel better than you could imagine after a crappy day at work.

But, there will be hair.....