Maybe I Should Have Turned Around Sooner

I walk to reset.  Physically, spiritually, and emotionally.  Preferably where no concrete nor buildings can be seen, but where at least a little bit of water can.  Where dogs can run free and there are more dragonflies than people. 

I have my favorite places, but they're a little too far when I only have an afternoon, so I tried somewhere new today.  A little closer to home. 

Just a couple of miles in, the levy I wasn't supposed to be on came to an end.  It was on one end of a lake, so I thought I'd just keep going and make a circle, eventually.  I looked for the trails indicated on my map, but the only ones I found were being used exclusively by spiders. 

But, I ran into a fence, so I followed that.  Until it came to another fence.  And the only way to keep going was to get really skinny and squeeze through a poorly aligned gate.  So, I did that, and my dog did the same. 

The grass was tall and there was no trail to speak of, so I consulted Google maps and saw a road within walking distance, so I just kept going.

But, what Google maps didn't show, was another fence that met another fence between me and the road, and no way out except the way I came. 

Ugggghh.  My dog and I were four plus miles into this thing, shade wasn't nearly as plentiful as the sun, and the thought of trudging back the way we came was more than I had time, energy, or water for. 

So, I did something I've never done before.  I dropped a pin and called for help.  My husband does Search and Rescue for a living, so I thought I'd give him a chance to rescue his wife.  And he did.

I hung my Camelback on the fence as a signpost and waited in the shade with my dog and the fire ants. 

As we waited, I relished the relief I was feeling and remembered something I read once about being rescued...  

"Stranded and starving, somebody has to get packed up and sent off into the unknown for food, taking what water is left, hacking a way through the undergrowth, hoping somehow to forge a path to something somewhere.  But then the noise of a helicopter, and rescue approaching.  That changes everything.  The one thing needed now is some space, so that what is coming can come...God is an approaching God, and our main job will not be to construct but to receive; the key word will be not so much 'achievement' as 'space'.  Making space for God in order to receive."

Nothing more to do, but wait, and receive (and answer a few questions).   

 

"Now, tell me again why you couldn't just go back the way you came?"

...

"You'd understand if you saw the way we came."  

This all reminds me of one my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes.  "If two men are traveling in the wrong direction, the man who turns around the soonest is the most progressive man."

I'm sure the other guy, had there been one, would have been the most progressive man today. 

But, he would have deprived himself of the opportunity to receive and his spouse of an opportunity to be a knight in shining armor.  He wouldn't have had an opportunity to remember that God is an approaching God, and his sock line probably would have been embarassingly unnoticeable.  I mean, you can't get those just anywhere.

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.   

Riding a Dog to Heaven

Okay.  Here's the deal.  We are keeping my friend's dog (which was actually our dog that we pawned off on her a few years ago).  We are on Day 5, and I'm not sure how many more days are left.  She went out of state for her Dad's funeral, and wasn't sure when she would return. 

But, before I elaborate on how her dog is going to take (at least) me to Heaven's gates, I need to explain the basis for how these things work, in case you didn't know, or need a refresher.

My son is making his First Communion this year, so yesterday, I spoke to the kiddos and their parents on this very subject, as they prepare to make their first Confession.

If you're not Catholic, this is our belief in a nutshell: 

1.  Jesus redeemed us from our sins by His death on the Cross.  (We are Christians, after all).   
2.  When we are sorry for our sins, He forgives us and heals us in the Sacrament of Penance (Also called Reconciliation or Confession).
3.  Out of gratitude and love for God, we make an effort to make up for our sins, or to do "penance".  Christ redeemed us, but gives us the gift of participating with him in our redemption, and that of others.  If we have "broken" things, or people, or relationships, they still need mending, even after we have been forgiven for "breaking" them in the first place. 

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, there are at least eight ways to do penance.  They are:

1.  Prayer
2.  Works of charity
3.  Service to neighbor
4.  Offering
5.  Acts of self-denial
6.  Acceptance of our cross
7.  Sacrifice
8.  Works of mercy

So, basically anything (by our intention) can be penance, or means to repair our relationship with God and others.  And not only repair it, but improve it beyond what is was before we messed it up.  We do this over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.  And, as long as we keep trying, through the mercy of God, and Jesus' death on the cross, we hope for Heaven.  We do our little (necessary only because God knows we need it) part, to cooperate with the big and very necessary part of Christ redeeming us.  He is the one thing necessary.

Back to the dog...The potential spiritual gift this dog is to us this week is incomprehensible.  She is 8 penances wrapped in one!  8 in 1.  With Christmas around the corner, I can't even imagine what you'd have to pay for the equivalent in the material world.  Who could put a price on a
Bo-Flex/Swiffer/Flobie/Noiseless Insect Repellant/Clap-on Lamp/Ab Roller/iBot/Boze Sound Wave machine?! 

Let me describe life with Piper, so you can better appreciate what an 8-in-1 penance "Super Buy" looks like:

*She is BIG.  Well over 100 pounds.  Considerably more than any of my kids.  Maybe more than me.  She could flatten my 4-year-old, if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  And it would be terrible to look like a pancake to a dog who loves to eat. 

*She stinks.  Think wet dog, dirt, and pee.  In all fairness, my friend gave her a bath less than a week ago, but it has worn off. 

*She is a LOVER.  L.O.V.E.R.  Love...Lover...Love-est.  Scratch lover.  She is a LOVE-EST.  She wants to be in constant contact.  Her butt to your kneecap is FINE with her.  She is not at all picky about where or how.  If you are walking and accidentally look at her, she'll throw herself down in your projected path and roll over, waiting for any effort you can part with. 

*She talks.  Growls, really, but in a friendly, I-love-you, pay-attention-to-me, way.  Only, if you don't engage her, she gets louder and more insistent, and pretty soon, she is plain rude.  Especially when I'm making dinner.  And I end up thinking, "You're not my boss!", and then I start feeling a little nutty that I have self-talk about a dog not being my boss.

*She's a little incontinent.  Every time she takes a little step, a little pee comes out.  I wonder if my friend even notices this, because she only comes in at night at her house, and then she sleeps in one contained room at the end of the house.  However, it is cold and rainy, and as much as I want to, I can't leave her outside the whole time!  Unfortunately, one of the reasons we bought and love our house is that it is so open.  No unoccupied, uncarpeted rooms with a door, here.  Wait a minute!  I just realized she could stay in the bathroom!  Ha!  Oh, the irony.  At any rate, my husband and I are mopping up more pee than when we were potty training our two-year-olds.

*She seems to think the trash can is a store where she can afford everything and has a tab, so she just helps herself.  A cloth napkin, a pencil, some foil, and the bones from a chicken breast were a few of her selections today.  The trash can is sleeping on the kitchen counter tonight.  Hopefully, she's not feeling that ambitious. 

*The final thing is that we've been adopted by a cat in the last month or so.  You know how it goes, you can't get your hands on it at first, and then it's sleeping in your bed.  On your face.  Well, this kitty is much loved and adored around here, and you probably guessed it...Piper isn't big on cats.  She corners and chases them.  There's only been one showdown so far, but there's plenty of tension at play while kitty sharpens her ninja and spy skills. 

So, when I say I am riding a dog to Heaven.  I mean, Piper.  And this is how Piper is "getting me to Heaven", as my penance:

1.  I pray.  I pray to God that my friend comes back SOON.  I pray that I don't do anything I'll regret.  I pray that I don't end up in the "loony bin".  I pray that my children will still speak to me when they see that I can stoop even lower than they ever thought possible before.

2.  Act of charity.  I knew keeping Piper would be hard.  We already have a very good, very sweet, very stinky, very hairy dog.  I said "yes" anyway, for love of my friend, who has experienced more tragedy in the last month than hopefully, any of us will in our lifetime. 

3.  Service to Neighbor.  Yep.

4.  Offering my actions.  I should be offering every time I pet her, and every time I have to wash my hands right afterward, for those who can't get to the sink on their own, for my friend, or for all of the people who work as hard as Piper does to be loved, without ever being noticed.  I'll do better in the offering department.  Right now, I offer this blog for all of those intentions, and for you.

5.  Act of self-denial.  She's still alive and she's still in my house.  That's two.

6.  Acceptance of our cross.  In this case, I'm working on it.  This post has been the perfect therapy.  I mean, tool.

7.  Sacrifice.  Check.

8.  Work of mercy.  See number two.

Dear God, Father and Creator of all that is good and all that makes us good, Thank you for Piper.  Thank you for my friend who took her off of our hands years ago.  Thank you for the way she has bonded our family in so many ways, particularly in appreciation of the dog we already have.  Thank you for Your Mercy, Your greatest attribute.  Thank you for Confession, and all priests who make it possible. 

Father, please "expiate all the sins I have committed this day and during all my life.  Purify the good I have done poorly this day and during all my life.  Supply for the good I ought to have done, and that I have neglected this day and all my life."

Thank you for opportunities to reflect on the ways you allow us to participate in Your Saving Work.  You know we need to show You how much we love You.  Thank you for giving us things we can do to prove our love.  Lord, please be with my friend, and all who are suffering the loss of those who were, and are, dearest to them.  Console them as only You can, and help us to follow Your inspirations when it's our turn.  May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.