Richard, Ricky Roo

Last night, my sister arrived at Cobbalot (our house) along with her many books and other belongings and her dog Treya (Blue Doberman). Excitement ensued as Clay's and my three dogs descended the deck stairs and greeted her in our back yard. First to check her out was an excited George (a Border Collie/Black Lab mix) who immediately covered her in kisses and asked her to play. Ricky (mini Schnauzer something mix) quickly butted in with typical terrier style of demanding attention to greet the new comer but was shoved aside by Sabrina ("Bree" Siberian Husky Wolf mix). Sabrina decided to exert her Alpha Female status by sniffing all over Treya, making sure this new pooch would submit to her rulership. However, when she asked Treya to play, things got a little testy. There was confusion (as always) at Sabrina's primitive menthods of communication (harkening back to the long forgotten language of all dog's ancestors: albeit her exponentially closer relations) as she backed Treya into a corner, barked, whimpered and jumped up to push Treya with her front paws. Poor timid Treya did not understand nor appreciate this greeting and snarled back at her. A confrontation was avoided when I exerted my Alpha Female superiority and called Bree down: she sheepishly apologized to me and respectfully let Treya get out of the corner.
Well, then someone offended little Richard. He began a fight which we successfully broke up before it got too bad. I did not expect little, precious Ricky, who meets no stranger, looks so angelically at me and gives me sweet kisses as he snuggles so cutely, to turn so vicious and nasty in a split second. Clay stepped in as Alpha Male, whisked the little white snarling pup from the tussle and scolded the little perpetrator of the crime: for which Ricky trembled violently. The decision was made to kick George and Sabrina inside so Ricky and Treya could work out their differences. They completely ignored each other. Ricky begged to be held and petted: Treya trotted about the yard investigating her new territory. So, we decided to bring George back out and all three of them began to play and run about. Sabrina whined from inside the house, wanting to play, too. Very atypical of Sabrina to beg to be with the dogs. She's a momma's girl though, so, maybe she was wanting to be with me. No more fights broke out. Sabrina and Ricky were still a little on edge but, all settled in nicely as they follwed each other about to make piddle spots to mark their turf. When we all ventured inside, all was well for at least an hour, until Treya wanted to play with George and Ricky snarled at her. I banished him for the rest of the evening to his little bed in our bedroom.
Thus far we have figured out: Ricky must have felt very threatened by Treya: convinced his position as second in command (until he shall one day conquer and rule as Alpha!) would be forfeit and so he keeps trying to put her in her place.
It made me think of ways I have reacted in a similar fashion. Maybe not to their face, but, to any newcomer who broaches on my family/friend pack that I see as a threat to my rank of importance, I am often guilty of snarling at behind their back. Belittling them to others, criticizing them in my head, crumbling, murmuring. Seeing the pups attempt to mask their vulnerability and fears by snarling (except for George, of course, who is the most secure, loveable, oblivious to social tensions, affectionate pup I know) evoked self-reflection in me. I tried to think of ways I have reacted out of fear and my own insecurities. And it is shameful yet a very basic instinct.
One of my deepest fears for as long as I can remember is to be alone and forgotten. Rather ironic phobia for an introvert. But, it is true. I kinda relate to Ricky's fears. After reminding him who is boss last night, I have been trying to snuggle and love on him lots so he can remember how special he is to me. No fights since I started that this afternoon. :) Here's hoping for peace at Cobbalot as we all learn to live with one another!
Merry Christmas!

Advent-uous!

Making room is not easy. It is stressful, uncomfortable, and is accompanied by loss: loss of time, space and stuff. In more traditional churches (and even in some homes) the first day of December begins what is known as the Advent season; this is celebrated by the Advent calendars (little boxes opened to reveal a portion of the Christmas story and in most there is a candy in each day… except in the case of the calendars my parents would buy. Those had pretty exciting pictures instead of chocolate) and the Advent Wreathes where a candle is lit every Sunday. The entire advent season is an opportunity of preparing our hearts, “making room” for Jesus.

I have been experiencing my own Advent this December. Clay and I have decided to open our home to one of my sisters. She is moving in, ironically, on Christmas Eve. We decided the move-in date the first Sunday in December when she and my Dad, Mom, Mother-in-law, and one of my other sisters came down to watch me play in Handel’s “Messiah.” So, this entire month has been dedicated to moving everything in my house around in preparation for her to move in.

Consequently, this has me thinking of ways I am preparing my heart for the Christmas season. I love Christmas. The time of year my heart is heightened to the physical collision of heaven and earth. God came to the earth He created because of ferocious jealousy while we were helplessly wandering towards our own annihilation. I try every year to comprehend His love: paradoxical, magnificent, fearsome, and unspeakably amazing. As a Christian, I am supposed to strive to become like Jesus. My heart is supposed to be in a constant state of Advent-ful anticipation of His invading my life. It is uncomfortable and stressful as I grow and change, and I lose stuff: my selfishness, pride, some dreams, stuff I have no business owning if I am to live a life of simplicity as I pursue Jesus. This past year has been reflecting this process but I did not recognize that until I began rearranging my life this Advent season.

I am excited to start this new chapter of my life with my sister living with Clay and me. I am well aware that there will be a significant change to our current life rhythms, having an extra person living with us will cause some stretching and adjusting. But, I will have two of my best friends living with me (my hubby and my seester). This coming year will be an adventure.  

Making a highway in the wilderness...I wonder what kind of car Jesus would drive?

 

            Let me preface what I am about to say by confessing: this entire year has felt like a wilderness, spiritually speaking: a dry time, a desert, the beginnings of a dark night. Do you know what I mean? That period of time in your life where you feel like you’re just wandering, just keeping on keeping on. Still trying to follow Christ with all your heart while longing so fiercely for the cooling refreshing breath of the Spirit. Waiting for that gentle whisper but all you hear is silence. I want to clarify that I am not speaking exclusively about the Dark Night of the Soul St John of the Cross confronts in detail in his book by that title. Having experienced two such times myself I do not dare say they are one and the same.

            I have noticed that Christians do not speak about these times often and I wonder if it is because most of us do not understand these times because 1) we’ve have yet to experience it, 2) we are currently experiencing it and do not want to talk about it because being so vulnerable and honest is tough, or 3) we have the desert memorized and wonder what in the world we are doing back here again.

            Two years ago I had the privilege to attend the Nation Youth Worker’s Convention in Nashville (put on by Youth Specialties). At that time I was not even remotely experiencing a dry spell: I felt so keenly alive and in rhythm with God. While there, I heard a message that resonated so beautifully with my heart. Mike Pilavachi was one of the speakers and his message was about reasons for the desert times in our spiritual journeys. Reverend Pilavachi laid out in amusing and beautiful detail three reasons for the Spirit driving us to these times. The obvious first and second reasons are: sin and the refining our character (as exhibited in the entire Exodus story and the Children of Israel). The third and last reason was one rarely spoken of but by far the most beautiful of reasons. To allure us: to remove all that hinders us from pursuing God. To deposit us in a place where we reach a hunger and thirst for no one but Him. These are the times of being romanced by the greatest of all lovers. They are exhibited in Hosea 2, and Jesus’ time in the Wilderness before the Temptation and the start of His ministry (Matthew 4:1, Luke 4:1). Elijah was driven after on of his great victories, by fear, to the desert where he encountered the still small voice of God. (1 Kings 19:4-15) Moses’ intimate moments with God happened in the Wilderness. These times are for refreshing, for drawing strength from God to walk in His power.

Tomorrow, one of my childhood dreams is coming true. I will be playing Triton, my viola in Handel’s Messiah. Consequently, this morning was our dress rehearsal. As I was brushing my teeth (which is very good to do) shortly before leaving for Wilmore, through my head was playing the last line of “Comfort Ye.” (This also is very good because that is my cue to prepare to play “Ev’ry Valley”.) Those lines are straight from Isaiah 40:3  “The voice of one crying in the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.””

            As I spat into the sink, for the first time in what has seemed like ages, that familiar churning of my spirit happened, my heart quickened as the phrases, wilderness, prepare, and highway stuck out to me as brilliantly as the lights illuminating my shocked face reflected in the mirror.  A highway? What are highways for? For moving quickly from one place to another. Could our journey through the Wilderness be a way of breaking ground for others? Could our struggles, temptations, tears and cries be the very stones God uses to pave the way for others to meet Him? After all, there is always a magnificent, eye opening, clearer understanding of the majesty and wonder of God on the other side of every wilderness.

            My moment of realization expounded on the overall purpose of the Wilderness journey. Yes, God wants us to be closer to Him, but He never does anything exclusively for one person, one single purpose. Every miracle, every act of judgment, every act of glorious redemption are for the greater purpose of bringing others closer to God, to the greater glory of God; the most astounding example of all being Jesus Christ.

            In American culture, it is so easy to fall into the mindset that everything is personal. I have often heard people talk about Jesus as their “Personal Savior and Lord.” A commonly heard explanation of Christianity is “It is a personal relationship with God”: which it is. It is so extremely personal and invasive and awesome. But what is the purpose?  Not just for us to get to heaven. (That is a whole ‘nother blog right there) No, we are followers of Christ so that we can bring others closer to God, to the greater glory of God.

            That being said, the command, ““Prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God” shines in a whole new light for me. I now imagine a thoroughfare where people and God run to embrace one another.

            The moment it occurred to me I would out of the Wilderness was when I stepped out two days ago in obedience; I determined that no matter what I was going to reach out to the “invisibles” of our world. And God responded by putting them directly in my path. Because my heart has been prepared in the wilderness, I can now bring Christ to others. That is when I realized: all of this is so much bigger than me: I never feel so alive than when I am running with Jesus and the Spirit’s breath fills up my lungs.

 And people think being a Christian is boring and full of “Thou Shalt Not’s.”

The Story That Inspired This Venture

After receiving so many posts and likes about my status (because Facebook does not offer their "notes" feature anymore) in which I wrote a story blog type thing, I thought... hurmm. Maybe I could blog again. I used to. Back when Xanga was the "in" thing. (cue the "oh, Xanga." comments laced with embarrassed chagrin) I also thought. What better way to help hone my aspiring authorship skills? So, hopefully people will read. And hopefully people will enjoy! :) 

So.. to start out, I will post once more what I posted last night. 

You never know where you will see Jesus.

I saw Jesus today in a public restroom.

I scurried into Wal-Mart, grouchy because my bladder had decided to suddenly feel as if it would explode. On my retreat to the bathroom, I moved past a frail, elderly man who was leaning against the wall close to the door I was entering. I offered him friendly smile before I scooted inside and scoped out the closest bathroom stall, certain I was in danger of not making it. Right before I entered my stall a feeble, “Hello? Can someone help me?” caught my attention. I paused. I really have to pee! I thought before I responded, “Yes, hello? How can I help you?”

“I need help getting up.” She replied. “I got all confused and I just don’t know what to do. I’m so scared to get up.”

Immediately concerned, yet momentarily fearing she would be beyond my help, I went ahead and asked if she could reach the lock. My bladder would have to wait.

“Yes.” She replied, “I locked the door. Then I got confused.”

“Can you unlock it so I can get in to help you?”

“Oh, I suppose unlocking it would be good for me to do.” Her voice was a mixture of elderly shakiness and childlike fear. With her cane she struggled to move the lock. “I think that did it.”

When I opened the door, I got hold of her gloves and cane so that she would not have to worry about it. I asked her to take hold on my arm so I could help her up.  Our first attempt was not successful. I suggested she wrap both her arms around mine and braced myself so she could rise.

Her body trembled for a moment before she realized she was standing. Relief flooded her eyes as she straightened with confidence. She started spouting thanks. “You are wonderful. You looked so small I did not think it would work. You must be strong.”

I smiled: embarrassed she was professing me the nicest person in the world as a woman walked out of the restroom. I told her I was stronger than I look. “Well, you must be!” She declared. We worked together to get her presentable. When she thanked me again, I reassured her that helping her was not a problem.

When I offered her gloves to her, she frowned, clearly flustered and confused over what to do next. “Oh, I do not know whether I should put those on yet or not.” I suggested she wait until she was ready to go outside and I helped her tuck them into her coat pocket and handed her cane back to her.

            I asked if someone was waiting for her and if I could help her find him or her.

“My husband is waiting for me outside. He is probably wondering whatever happened to me.” She gave a small chuckle as we slowly made our way to the door.

After another thank you, I reassured her once more helping was no problem as I held the door open and she laughed to her husband, “We have success. I got lost. ” His smile reached his eyes, unlike before, as he thanked me for helping her.  She asked for his arm to support her and they slowly hobbled away together.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, realizing the urgency of my bladder had abated. I realized what had been an irritation for me a moment before had turned into an opportunity. My heart filled with so much joy and I thanked God for the appointment He had ordained for me.