animals

The continuing adventures of dog sitting

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I’m back dog-sitting for some friends of my parents (and of mine, too). The dog’s name is Millie and she’s a 15-year old PBGV (which stands for Petit Basset Griffon Vendéen). She’s a gentle old soul who’s a joy to take care of.

When I take her walking, she always tries to introduce herself to any of the dogs we pass by. Or humans. She doesn’t discriminate. She likes to go up to people’s doorsteps, and she’d probably ring the doorbell if she could reach it. She’s that friendly.

I love the way she can be totally alert one moment and be asleep and snoring the next. I don’t mean “cute and petite little animal” kind of snoring. I mean “old man with serious sinus issues” kind of snoring.

She loves her some treats and will sometimes sit in front of me and whine and look pitiful until I almost have to give her one. She acts like she hasn’t eaten in days, even when I just fed her. She’s crafty like that.

Having a pet makes life better. There’s nothing like coming home to a furry face that’s excited to see you and that never gets tired of you. I come home to a feline, but I like dogs, too. Their love is simple and pure, a basic cupboard kind of love that seeks the simple pleasures. They will love you, no matter what.

It’s too bad that animals don’t live as long as people. You get so attached to them that when you say your final goodbyes, it’s like saying goodbye to a piece of your heart.

I do enjoy dog sitting. I hope to be able to take care of more dogs (and possibly even a few cats) in the future. Plus, I really hope I can come take care of Millie again in the future.

A Good Book

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There’s nothing like a good book. In my opinion.

When it comes to books, I’m not . I read all kinds, from fantasy fiction to historical biographies. I just finished a book called unbroken about Olympic runner and World War II pilot and POW Louis Zamperini. It was a hard-to-read yet fascinating look at what one man went though and how he came out stronger on the other side. I’ll let you read the book to figure out how.

I just started a book about Queen Elizabeth II. I anticipate this will be another winner.

At some point, I will probably read The Lord of the Rings again. I will also re-read The Space Trilogy. Those are books that I read through every year.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I read a lot. Usually, I read when I first get to work and during my lunch break. Sometimes, I read a bit when I get home if I’m not too sleepy. Such is the exciting life I lead.

I do think that reading makes you a more well-rounded, if not more intelligent, person. You learn not only facts and figures, but also how to better articulate your own opinions. Reading good books can’t help but lead to better expression of your own ideas. At least that’s what I think.

The best I figure it, I will need to live to be at least 220 to read all the books that are on my ever-growing to-read list. For every one book I read, I add two that I intend to read at some point in my lifetime.

I finished reading through the Bible a few days ago. I didn’t plan on finishing so early in the year, but it just happened. Next year, I will take it more slowly.

So my suggestion is to find a good book to help pass those summer hours. I’m always handy with a recommendation or two if you need ideas.

 

I’m Offically As Old As Elvis

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Well, ok. The secret’s out. I’m really not 39 (again). I’m 42, the same age as Elvis was when he passed (no pun intended).

I had a great birthday. It started out with a fantastic lunch at Loveless Cafe with my mother. I even got in a nap (one of the few perks of being unemployed). I even got my taxes done. It was a great day.

It was another day where I chose to focus on the positives instead of the negatives. I chose to be thankful for all that I have instead of lamenting all that I lack. Like a job. Or money.

But I still have my wonderful family. I still have some truly amazing friends (to which I say thank you for all the Facebook birthday well-wishes). I have good health and a good God who always takes care of me.

I have the laziest (and most companionable) cat in the world. She celebrated my birthday the way she celebrates most days– with a marathon nap.

As I’ve mentioned before, a birthday is a way of celebrating survival, of making it through another year. I know I’ve talked about knowing too many people who won’t get to see their 42nd birthday, but it’s true.

Life isn’t something you should ever take for granted. It is a gift. Every day of it is a precious, once-in-a-lifetime gift that will never come again. So live it well.

By the way, I’m still accepting all forms of payment and gifts for said birthday. Just kidding. Sort of.

The Theology of a Good Nap

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One of my favorite Sunday afternoon activities is a good nap. Especially after getting home from church and (hopefully) a good sermon. I’m pretty sure that’s what God made Sundays for– worship, Sunday dinners, and naps. Preferably in that order.

I do think God never intended us to be on the go 24/7. We tend to think that busyness is next to godliness, but sometimes being busy keeps us too busy for God. It robs us of intimacy not just with God but with the ones we love.

Sometimes, the most spiritual thing you can do is to take a nap. No, I didn’t come up with that one but I can say from personal experience that it’s true. You can’t be a good and faithful servant if you’re exhausted, burnt-out, run-down, beat-up, etc. You just can’t

Jesus said for those who were weary and exhausted, burdened and overworked to come to Him and they would find rest for their souls. See, even Jesus was in favor of Sunday naps.

Sometimes, you need to let stuff go and leave some of the to-do list unchecked. Not getting every single thing done won’t kill you but not getting any rest just might.

On a side note, naps are better if you have a furry companion, i.e. a cat or dog, to share them with. Especially one who has mastered the nap and turned it into an art form, as my cat Lucy has.

I personally love those naps where you lie down for a bit and wake up two hours later completely refreshed. I had one of those naps today. I recommend you try it some Sunday afternoon.

What Do Almost 14-Year Old Cats Do?

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In case you were absolutely dying to know what my cat Lucy does all day, it’s not overly complicated. Basically, she sleeps all day.

When I say she sleeps around, I’m not saying anything about her morals. I’m saying she literally sleeps in different places throughout the day. Don’t get me wrong. She has her favorite nap spots that she likes to go back to, like we humans have favorite vacation destinations or restaurants.

To say she takes cat naps is a misnomer. She takes people naps. She takes power marathon naps. Actually, she does the opposite of a cat nap in that she is awake for 15 minutes, give or take, and asleep the rest of the time.

I suppose when you’re a cat and you’re almost 14, you get to sleep a lot.

I do get annoyed at how easily she falls asleep, especially when I’m dealing with my periodic episodes of insomnia. I wish I could lay my head on the pillow and be instantly out.

Now you know a little more about Lucy the Wonder Cat. She is very companionable and can be very affectionate at times. She’s also good blog material when I can’t think of anything else to write about. Like tonight.

10 Years Later

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In all the hoopla of gift-giving and gift-getting (not forgetting all the food-eating and dessert-eating), I almost forgot a very important anniversary.

It was 10 years to the day on December 24 that my beloved cat, Lucy, came home again after getting out and having an adventure. A very un-Hobbitlike adventure.

She somehow managed to get out and get lost on December 22. All the frantic searching in the world on the next day produced nothing. I vividly remember being distraught and very emotional. I had all but given up hope of ever seeing her again.

We had put up flyers all over the neighborhood. These flyers had her name, age, description, approximate weight, and a black-and-white photo. Apparently, on December 24, the mailman recognized the picture and informed us that she was taking up residence in a neighbor’s garage down the street.

I can imagine her trotting up to a strange lady and saying something like, “I’ve lost my family. Will you be my family?” Of course, this isn’t Narnia, so she wouldn’t actually say these things, but it would all be implied by her meowings.

Apparently, she got rained on a bit, got her nose scraped a bit, and had a few traumatic events, but came out of it the same old weird, goofy cat she’d always been.

I got her back on Christmas Eve. That remains my best gift.

She’s had a few other adventures since then, including a cancer scare which she thankfully survived.

Thinking back on the whole thing, I’m reminded that for those who want to come home, there’s always a way. Even more so with God.

No one who wants to find God, earnestly and truly, and know Him will be denied. All who seek Him in truth find Him and find at the same time that really He was the one seeking them. He was the one pursuing them and wooing them. The only way we ever find and love God is that He first finds and loves us.

And that goes for all the prodigals out there. The Father still waits and looks down the road for those who want to come home. Better than that, He already knows where you are and is whispering the way home to your heart. There is always a way back and a way home.

My reward is that I’ve gotten 10 years of feline therapy and free cat-scans. Your reward for seeking God isn’t as much the gifts and blessings from God, but God Himself. That’s still the best part.

What I Did for Thanksgiving This Year

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What did I get for Thanksgiving this year? Fat. I got fat.

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Seriously, it was a low-key day, even by Thanksgiving standards.

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Me and the fam dined at Cracker Barrel, then I went home and finished my top 50 favorite Christmas movie list. If you want to see it, you’ll have to find me on Instagram.

I kicked off my annual holiday movie fest with the 1994 remake of Miracle on 34th Street. There’s the whole Thanksgiving parade tie-in which makes it the appropriate choice for today. And the parade in the movie was way less creepy than the real-life parade I witnessed on TV today.

For once, there was no football of any kind involved. I just didn’t feel like it.

Tomorrow is Black Friday, which I will honor by sleeping in and dreaming of great deals. On a side note, if you see a great deal on the new iPad Air or a MacBook laptop and feel led by the Spirit to buy one for me, I will give you a shout-out on here. Just sayin’.

I’m thankful for tasty turkey, family, friends, chocolate, warm beds, fleece scarfs, and grace. Maybe not in that order but definitely all of the above and then some.

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Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

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“Forgiveness is the name of love practiced among people who love poorly. The hard truth is that all people love poorly. We need to forgive and be forgiven every day, every hour increasingly. That is the great work of love among the fellowship of the weak that is the human family.” (Henri Nouwen)

I’ve posted and blogged and mentioned multiple times before how the hardest person to forgive is often yourself. You know yourself too well and you know your own weaknesses because a certain adversary reminds you of them every single day.

I know I’ve blown it with a friend and the friendship won’t ever be the same again. We used to hang out and be good friends but now she won’t even sit on the same side of the room as me and we feel like really good acquaintances.

There are one or two (including that one at Starbucks) who have taken to actively disliking me and nothing I say or do will change that. For me, I have to remember that I can’t be friends with everyone and that it’s not my job to make every single person like me. It’s my job to be the best me possible.

But forgiveness isn’t optional. Not with others and especially not with ourselves. How dare I choose not to forgive myself when God (who incidentally knows me better than I do) has freely forgiven me? And why would I want to live under a cloud of condemnation when I don’t have to?

No one does relationships well. We mistrust each other. We read too much into silences and jests. We say the wrong things and fail to say the right things. Most of us have gotten used to the taste of shoe leather from sticking our feet in our mouths so often.

But real friendship between two believers is the Jesus in me communing with the Jesus in you. It’s practicing forgiveness and grace and blessing, giving these abundantly because we know our desperate need for all of the above.

You are not your past. Or your mistakes. You are not the names you’ve been called or that you’ve called yourself.

You are:

Redeemed

Forgiven

Blessed

Child of God

Beautiful

Beloved

To Die For

The One Your Abba Is Still Very Fond Of

May we speak not hurt but life, not wounds but blessings into each other. May we always look to see the best in ourselves and in others and call out the beautiful and glorious in each other. May we learn to love others and ourselves the way God has always loved us.

Joy in the Midst of Sadness

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I celebrated with the rest of the family as my niece turned 2. Finally, I can stop counting in months. I was seriously running out of fingers and toes to count on.

I loved seeing the pure unadulterated joy on her face when she saw her presents and the complete love and trust she has for her mommy and daddy and two big brothers. It did my heart good.

But I also remembered Adrian Peterson’s 2-year old son who was allegedly beaten to death by his mother’s boyfriend. My heart hurts and I have questions I can’t answer.

Who does that to a 2-year old? For what possible reason?

I know we live in a broken world filled with broken people. Creation groans for deliverance and for everything to be made right. Too many defenseless and helpless children suffer, too many people go to bed hungry, too many marriages fall apart, and too many die way too young.

Then I remember how this story ends. I cheated and read the last page. It’s about God wiping away every tear from our eyes. It’s about a new Jerusalem, a new heaven and a new earth where lambs lie safely next to lions, where others is no need for sun, moon, or stars because God is there.

I love what the guest pastor said. God didn’t want an only child, so He chose us to be conformed to the image of His Son Jesus and become heirs with Jesus to all the promises of God.

I love this version of Romans 8:29-30: “God knew what he was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the outset to shape the lives of those who love him along the same lines as the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity he restored. We see the original and intended shape of our lives there in him. After God made that decision of what his children should be like, he followed it up by calling people by name. After he called them by name, he set them on a solid basis with himself. And then, after getting them established, he stayed with them to the end, gloriously completing what he had begun.”

That’s what keeps me going in the midst of so much suffering and sadness. That’s why I can find joy in everything. Because ultimately Love does win.

Friends, Frothy Monkey, and Franklin

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A lady I work with remarked that the only good cats were dead ones. Obviously, she’s not a fan of cats. Lord, forgive them for they know not what they’re missin’.

I had another great night in downtown Franklin. I had a spectacular roast beef and provolone sandwich at my very favorite place to eat on Earth, which as you should know by now is McCreary’s Irish Pub. Seeing as I chose to eat at the optimal senior citizen dining time of 4:30 pm, I got prime seating on the patio on a picturesque Autumn afternoon.

Later, I ran into one of my favorite friends who always makes my heart happy when I see her and never fails to encourage me and make me smile. She and her dad were headed over to Sweet CeCe’s for some fro-yo (that is frozen yogurt for the novices out there). I recommended the pumpkin pie flavor, which is exceedingly delightful.

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I had a sweet potato pie latte at Frothy Monkey and sat on the patio while I sipped my little cup of heaven and reveled in just how very blessed I am. If I counted all my blessings, I’d easily surpass the 1,500 I came up with in my Things I Love series. I’d lose count before I ran out of blessings.

I got treated to an organ concert at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. Well, it was more like the organ dude practicing and me showing up at the right time. I prayed a bit, sat still and silent for a bit, and just tried to be in the moment. A girl sat directly across from me, deep in prayer. I still don’t know who she was or what burdens she carried, but I did my best to intercede for her and agree with her in prayer for whatever she was asking from God. It felt like genuine New Testament Church.

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I had ol’ Hank Williams (Sr., not Jr.) providing the soundtrack to my ride home. With the windows down and the volume cranked up. It was magical.

Now I’m sitting here typing this on my iPad while my cat reposes in my lap. To many people’s great and lasting disappointment, she’s not dead. Only very sleepy. Probably dreaming of tuna again.