Lily and the Puddle

This is our dog, Lily, after our walk today...

This is noteworthy because today was a big day for us.  Lily became my teacher.  

We got Lily at a local animal shelter the day before Easter, approximately six months ago.  She's our Easter Lily.  She has been the source of much joy and consternation.  The $5.00 we paid for her has seemed like $5.00 too much on many, many occasions.  These include repeated peeing on the carpet, getting into the trash and depositing its contents throughout the house, throwing up on various rugs, and some still-unresolved problem with anal gland expression.  I mean, really, it couldn't get any more disgusting.  My boys will eagerly tell you I love her the least of everyone in our family.  They're probably right.  

But, we all have our place with her.  Of the boys, the youngest is her "care taker", she loves to chase and nip at the middle one's calves, and she sleeps on the the bed of the oldest.  My husband trims her nails, bathes her, and has a love/hate relationship with her, as I do, depending on how recently she has offended our sensibilities and desire for order, and neutral smells.  I'm the one who walks her, and she seems to let this one positive aspect drape others less so.  

With a history of acute UPS-truck-related deafness, a proclivity for running, and a curiosity about everything, we've done a lot of cussing in our front yard, trying to give our new-ish canine family member a little freedom out of the house and off the leash.  It's slowly getting better.

So, today was a real experiment, as we ventured to some local trails off-leash, which is allowed, but your dog must be under voice control (underlined just like it says on the sign), at all times.  We were definitely gambling here.  I counted the cars on the way in to the parking lot, considering the likelihood of running into anyone, how many dog-fighting opportunities there might be, the possibility that my dog may just run off altogether, and how I would explain that to my boys, knowing they would be suspicious, since they think I hate her anyway.     

Nevertheless, we started out, and something wonderful happened.  

She was delighted to be free and delighted to be near me all at the same time.  It was like we'd been walking these trails for years and we were the subject of all the books written about man and his best friend.  Huh!

If I'm on a trail of any kind, I'm happy.  But, as we went along, I realized how my happiness multiplied at watching her enjoy her freedom, as well as being aware of her desire to share it with me. She didn't have to. She would race ahead and saunter back.  At all of the forks in the road, she was ahead of me, so she'd make a guess (usually the wrong one), but I'd call her name one time, and she would eagerly correct her course.  

As so often happens in my thoughts, God showed up and whispered, "See?".  Yes.  Yes, I see.

I saw many things.  I saw that her desire was to lay in every puddle of water we crossed.

I also saw that she was willing to abandon her puddle, if it meant parting ways with me.  I saw that I would feel sad for her if she had to pee on every tree, smell every leaf, or stay in every puddle she entered, at the cost of pursuing what was still ahead. 

Then, I thought of the patients I've visited in the hospital trying to detox from one addiction or another, and all of us who end up chasing some inherently good desire, and lose our freedom in pursuit of it.  We get stuck.  We come to a fork in the road, and we can't change course.  We can't get out of the puddle.  We like it too much.

As a wise man once told me, "You're not free to say 'yes' until you're free to say 'no'.  This is true for everything from everyday commitments to illicit pleasures.  Words to live by.

One patient who fought his addiction for twenty-something years, wasn't able to kick it until he was on the brink of losing his wife and kids, when he realized he loved them more than prescription drugs.  Based on his experience, it seems we ultimately lack the greater, stronger, and more noble desire to be with/for others and the One who made us for Himself.  There are as many explanations for this "lack" as there are people.  

We have this great thirst for freedom because our most fundamental aspiration is for happiness; and we sense that there is no happiness without love, and no love without freedom.  This is perfectly true.  Human beings were created for love, and they can only find happiness in loving and being loved.

-Interior Freedom, Jacques Phillipe

I think the same is true for dogs, which is why we relate to them so well.  

With our dog, it has taken six months to get to the place where her desire for communion outweighs everything else.   I guess this evolution of trust and desire has developed slowly and quietly (and sometimes very stinkily), as we've shared time and space under one roof.  Learning routines, things we love, and things to avoid at all costs.  Today, my dog was willing to leave her puddle or switch directions entirely, out of a desire to be with me, as inexplicable as that is. 

Can I move from master to dog in this story and let God take my place?  

Left or right, wet or dry, stay or go, it's all the same to me -- as long as I can remain in Your Presence. 

       

Can I become as free as my dog off-leash?  Is it even possible to spend enough time with God to learn to desire Him more than a puddle, money, sex, drugs, or anything else?  The saints challenge our flesh and our logic with a resounding YES.  It only feels impossible.   

The Monarch

Over the weekend, my oldest son approached me with a little something in his hand.  Maybe half the size of a quarter.  I was expecting something gross, funny, or dead, so I met his something with an appropriate amount of hesitation.  He insisted that I look more closely and hold it.

As soon as I held it in my hand, I knew it was alive or had been alive, but I didn't know what it was, nor had I ever beheld the hue of ethereal blue it radiated.  It looked like it had been sealed with kisses from a golden ink pen, held by a meticulous lover.    

"Where did you find this?!," I questioned my son.  He found it attached to one of the wooden boards in our atrium.  I looked even more closely and realized I could make out a butterfly wing on the inside!  Ohhhhhhhhhh!  Unbelievably, the word "chrysalis" popped into my mind, and I finally understood what I was holding.  It looked like this, with a color somewhere between the second and third photos from pixshark.com.

 Before I had a chance to google these great pictures and understand more about what it was, and exactly where in the process of metamorphosis "we" were, it "fell".  About 10 feet.  The four of us present were aghast at the thought of such an incredible discovery coming to such an abrupt and violent end.

We recovered it and put it in a jar to see if there was going to be more to the story, or not.  By nightfall, it had turned black, which of course meant it was dead.  Any color turning to black always means death, doesn't it?

Morning told a different story.  The Monarch butterfly had emerged from its chrysalis, but it had not flown away.  It was lying in the bottom of the jar, in some liquid that wasn't there before.  My husband had the wherewithal to take it out of the jar and hang it on a stick, so it could pursue its natural course from there.  Like a crash course in delivering babies, we watched a time-lapse video of this occurring in a natural environment, but something was wrong.  Try as it might, it could not unfurl its wings.

This little fact about this little creature whose existence was totally unbeknownst to us 24 hours before, devastated us.  We took turn holding sticks, and providing assistance when it fell off.  After a while, like a good theater company, we placed it on a rose for a different backdrop, hoping for a different scene to emerge.  When that didn't work, we filled a lid with sugar water, which enticed its incredibly long proboscis out for display.  Wow!  Have you seen this in real life?!  Just when I thought this mystical little creature had shown me all of its wonders, it showed me more.  Surely, there was something more I could do for it.  When all else failed, I tried to fix its wings myself.

(And I'm the one who goes around perpetuating the story about never helping a struggling butterfly out of its cocoon!  The struggle is crucial for its survival, I've been told.  It facilitates circulation through its wings.  But, desperate circumstances called for desperate measures.)

All of this to say, none of it worked.   Only two choices were left.  Was it going to die "naturally" as a victim of the elements or more mercifully and quickly, by my hand?  I entertained trying to keep it alive in an aquarium, but to what end?  After a quick call out to my husband, and no reply, I knew I had to do it.  The kids went out the back door and I went out the front.  I was never so sad to kill something so small, and yet so shockingly exquisite.

From first glance to tragic end, this little butterfly and its place in the story of life have made an indelible impression on me.  Lying in bed last night, I googled more about a Monarch's life.  I had to know.  Just how much life was truncated by a series of unfortunate events in my living room?  From what I read, it takes about 4 weeks to pass from an egg to a butterfly.  The average length of life beyond that?  About 4 weeks, with a range from a few days to a year. 

The marvels of the caterpillar, aesthestics and ecological value of the butterfly, aside, I am totally in awe of the captivating beauty and ornate detail of the chrysalis.  Outside of its central place in the metamorphosis of a caterpillar/butterfly, it is independently and astonishingly beautiful

What is the reason for such beauty?  Under more fortunate circumstances, it goes completely unnoticed.  In short time, I am becoming convinced that the better question is, for whom?  For whom has this beauty been created?

As far as I can tell, it is for no other reason than that "For from the greatness and beauty of created things comes a corresponding perception of their Creator."  Wisdom 13:5

Maybe, the beauty is just for us.  The ones lucky enough to stumble upon it...

"If you become Christ's you will stumble upon wonder upon wonder, and every one of them true."

-St. Brendan of Birr

Dear God of Metamorphosis and a Million Wonders Unseen,

Thank you for all things beautifully and wonderfully made.  Thank you for the countless details, which comprise beauty in every form...Especially in this chrysalis, whose beauty is most compelling because the reason for it can only be You.  And us.  I'm sorry it had to die, especially because we had our part in its death.  But, I'm not sorry that it led me here, and to You.  It's funny how life is like that, with exceeding beauty and death "living" side by side.  It seems like there could be one or the other, but not both existing at the same time, so close together.  I guess that "seeming" is the way the truth embedded in our heart drifts toward our minds.  The heart knows that death will take its final blow when it meets the Source of all beauty.  Thank you for this hope and everything in life that points to it.  Amen.   

Running Away From Home

I have an incredible friend who offered to keep my boys for five days.  (No, I will not email you her contact information :)).  Today is Day 3.  I talked to them last night and 2/3 wanted to come home.  This morning I texted with a friend who I am planning to sit with during her chemo treatment this afternoon.  She is the mother of ten.  Incredibly beautiful, holy, and wise.  When I told her that I would be there unless I had to pick up my kiddos, she said, "I never talk to my kids when they are away in the evening.  Things always look brighter in the morning."  Lesson learned.

Anyway, the past two days have been incredibly quiet, extremely productive, very relaxing, and awesome, in general. However, considering my time may end shortly, I've been thinking about what I enjoy most about being "free". 

*I like waking up early and not having to be quiet, for fear of waking someone up.
*I like choosing what to do next.  Filling up the hours of the day is fun, when you're not dragging a string of little people behind you.
*I like being able to run away from home.  Somewhere other than on my street, because I don't want to be out of earshot when my kids are home. 
*I like eating lunch out of town, just because I can.

In a word, I like the ability to "Go".  I never feel more free than when I'm heading out to cover some great distance.  Over the years (and prior to children), this has been on horseback, on foot, in a canoe, on a bicycle, or in a car.  On horseback, I competed in endurance riding.  Riding 25, 50, or 100 miles in a day.  My first experience with the sport was driving a truck and trailer for a lady (in a group) who did this across the Pony Express trail.  We were gone for two months, and they rode 2,000 miles.  Prior to that, I biked across Kansas the long way (which is about 400 miles), with a guy who pushed his way in a wheelchair.  After kids, almost every summer, my husband and I drive a long way, to hike a long way, in some part this incredible country.

One day, I'd like to walk across England (an article in a magazine that gave me that idea), the Appalachian trail, or the Continental Divide. 

I've never really thought about why these things appeal to me so much, but if I had to guess, it would probably be because I like to feel free.  I find God most easily in the quiet and in His Creation.  And when I spend a prolonged period of time in the quiet and in Creation, I find Him most profoundly.  There is also something planted deep within me that tells me I am made for a journey.  And when I perceive with all of my senses that I am covering distance with my Creator, that something rings true. 

We were not created to lead drab, narrow, or constricted lives, but to live in the wide-open spaces.  We find confinement unbearable, simply because we were created in the image of God, and we have within us an unquenchable need for the absolute and the infinite.

Interior Freedom, Jacques Phillipe

However, as much as these first thoughts are noble and true, there is also part of it that rewards my selfishness - the shedding of responsibility.  The escape.  Which just goes to prove that all godly things don't have to feel bad.  They can be good for God, and me.  And they usually are.  But, it doesn't really put life (especially a very blessed one like mine) in a very nice light - to talk about it as something that needs to be escaped from.  It is not a prison, or a plantation before the Civil War. 

Monotony, stress, exhaustion, etc... are only some of the accidental effects of any given vocation.  What you need to get hold of, and examine, and pray about, and give thanks to God for, and not allow to go to waste is the substance.  It is the vocation itself about which you must be sure:  when you have got the cause right...You will begin to see a pattern about your life.  It will not be a muddle of dreary duties that are mercifully interrupted every now and then by pleasures:  it will be a related whole; it will have unity.

The greatest pleasures in life are not those that are superimposed - any more than they are those that represent escapes.  The greatest and most lasting pleasures are those that emerge out of life itself.  They are these that come in virtue of the vocation, not in spite of it.  The taste of the fruit is not the sugar you put on it...As a rule, it is not that the fruit is bitter, but that we have a wrong idea of sweetness.

Holiness for Housewives (and other working women), Dom Hubert Van Zeller

*Note:  A vocation is a strong inclination to follow a particular course of action; a divine call to God's service or to the Christian life.

Back to unity and reality...I have three kids who have zero interest in riding their bikes beyond the park that's only two blocks away.  So, how do I create unity between these critical parts of who I am to them and what I want/need for me? 

For now, I will work it out in little ways.  Take the dog to Lick Creek park and "disappear" for a couple of hours.  Go swimming at the local pool until I can't pause long enough on the end to catch my breath.  Drive an hour to the National Forest and hike until I'm ready to stop.  Canoe the Brazos.  And of course, continually take my kids with me, as far as they're willing and able to go.

Which reminds me -  I am at home.  Alone.  And the day is stretched out before me.  Catch you later.

Dear Heavenly Father and Author of All That is Good,

Thank you for time to reflect on all of the good things You have given.  Thank you for the phone call while I was writing this that said "All is well. Everyone wants to stay."  Thank you for being available to me every second, of every minute of my lifetime.  Thank you for the wisdom of mothers who have raised ten children or any one child, well.  Thank you for a husband who I love to soak up the time with.  Thank you for the beauty and wonder of Your Creation, and the way it draws us to You.  Thank you for all of the opportunities in my life to set out on a journey.  Thank you for the journey I'm on now, and for those to come.  Please forgive my selfishness and help me always to recognize the substance of the work You have blessed me with.  Please bless all parents!  Especially those who are at home with little ones, who take two naps a day.  Please bless those on the other end of life who are dying from loneliness - The ones who would give anything to spend a day with a child.  Especially, Ms. Eva.  Thank you for this day, and all days.  Thank you for a home to be comfortable in. A home that I'm happy to leave and even happier to come home to.  I love You.  Amen.

 
     

Aversion to Being the "helper"

After reviewing the two accounts of Creation in Genesis in Chapter 5 of our Endow study, we know that God created humanity (male and female) in His image and likeness.  We are called to embody His authority, which rules in, by, and for love, here on earth.  According to an Encyclopedia of Theology, true authority is "always in the service of others and their freedom."

Men and women are called to live their complementary differences out through self-giving love.  This seems easy enough to accept, but, as women, we may still find ourselves bristling when we read, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him." (Genesis 1:26)  Generally, no one wants to be a helper unless you're working for Santa.  The word has a negative connotation.  When we think "helper", we think of someone with less to offer and consequently, less value.  No one rushes in to be unappreciated, unseen, and undervalued!  Most of the time, we want to avoid being the "helper" at all costs.

However, we looked a little deeper into that powerful little word today and found that it is the English translation of the Hebrew word ezer.  Of the 19 times the word is used in the Old Testament, 15 refer to Divine aid.  "So, for the woman to be called a helper to man is not at all pejorative or degrading since this description is also used at other times to describe God Himself." (Endow study guide)  According to Pope John Paul II, "It should not be interepreted as meaning that the woman is man's servant - "helper" is not the equivalent of "servant"; the psalmist says to God:  "You are my help"; rather the whole statement means that woman is able to collaborate with man because she complements him perfectly..." 

In a discussion question from the previous chapter, we were encouraged to think of the progress that could be made in respect for women if men were seen always as partners, not adversaries...

If we could use all of the energy we are using (and have used) to avoid being the "helper" into helping (doing for another without self-seeking), our marriages, our families, and our society would be unrecognizable as we know them.  The power struggles would disappear and true authority (in the service of others and their freedom) would re-emerge. 

Perhaps you think it sounds like a tall order, and how it would be much easier just to let things remain as they are. But, if it is as simple as embracing a new concept of what it means to be a "helper", from servant to perfectly complementary collaborator, I'm willing to give it a shot.  There is never a loss of dignity in serving another in love. 

For most of us, there will not be a huge visible transformation.  We will continue to pick up dirty socks, make dinner, do the laundry, and all of the other things that we do.  However, if we have been doing it as though something assigned or imposed, instead of something freely chosen, our heart will know all the difference.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for this gorgeous afternoon.  Thank you for all of the ways You lead us to Yourself.  Thank you for creating us male and female.  Thank you for the gift of marriage and the presence of another who continually sharpens, encourages, and loves us.  Please give us the grace to love our spouse the way they need to be loved, and perhaps respected above all.  Help us to understand and embrace the eternal truths you imparted to us upon Creation.  You put us here for each other.  Please give us a glimpse of what that should look like, so we may know what direction to turn in every moment that includes another.  I trust in You.  Amen.