Homeless

My neighbor

Discovered evidence

Of some critter

Living behind his shed.

He blocked off

The space between

The house and the shed

With a piece of scrap lumber.

Tonight,

When I let Lucy out

We noticed a possum standing there

Where the space used to be.

She (I imagine it as a “she”)

Looked confused, puzzled

Wondering what had happened

To what had once been her home.

She was blocked,

No longer welcome.

And my heart ached for her.

I understood what she was feeling.

Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

Jesus, Trials, and the Art of S'mores

iStock Photo

A friend once told me about about a difficult few weeks she'd been having and how she'd experienced a "meltdown" of sorts.  I was aware of only some of what she'd been experiencing and a meltdown may have been warranted even for the little I knew.

Far too often we head to the extremes.  "Meltdowns are necessary; a means to decompress from extreme pressure." "Meltdowns are sinful response to God's discipline." I offer my own unique take.

As I told my friend, I did not condone any sinful response on her part. She needed to evaluate her heart and repent if necessary.  But I pointed out that things melt when subjected to heat. And the heat of God's discipline is meant to refine our heart and character.  The Word speaks of refining gold, subjecting it to high heat so to separate the dross, leaving behind pure gold.

However, metallurgy is beyond my scope of knowledge. And not to disparage the Word, but I think there's more to this than refining gold. What came to mind as my friend and I spoke was s'mores.

I like graham crackers. I like marshmallows. I like love chocolate. In a pinch, when a s'more emergency hits, you can place a cold marshmallow between the graham cracker and chocolate bar. I know; I've tried. It solved the immediate need, but it was not as tasty as the real thing.

A good s'more needs a toasted marshmallow (I prefer mine a bit burnt). The heat from the marshmallow softens the chocolate a bit, melding the flavor of all three ingredients and creating a much more satisfying experience.

Meltdowns of the non-sinful variety serve more than to decompress. They soften our hearts, melding our emotions and minds in to laments and submissive prayers. In return, God gives a heaping serving of His grace which nourishes and satisfies our souls.

Qavah

Wait expectantly?

I’ve been waiting

On pins and needles

For decades.

How many years

Did Sarah wait?

How many times

Did Hannah plead her case?

I’ve been waiting.

On pins and needles.

For decades.

The pins feel sharper now. 

The needles pierce my heart

To the point of shedding blood.

But you already know about that,

Don’t you?

Being pierced,

Shedding blood.

So, I’ll wait some more

On painful pins and needles.

On You will I wait

For You to keep Your promise.

Tension #1

I saw a picture of you today.
You wore a big smile and you looked genuinely happy.
And I was happy you were happy
(though a part of me wished you were unhappy and missing me).

That I was happy you are happy
just confirmed what I always knew;
that what I felt for you,
what I still feel for you
is,
was,
always will be
love.

True love.

And my hearts breaks all over again.

Definitions

Dedicated to my Pastor, Rev. H Leon Ben-Ezra on the occasion of his retirement

def·i·ni·tions

You taught us what those church words meant

Always pointing to the One He sent.

“Believe the gospel. First repent.”

You taught us definitions.

Through many sermons some of us wept

And I confess through some I slept

But even so, I did not forget

All those definitions.

Hope – waiting on God His promises to keep.

Joy is optimism

Glory – His beauty that runs so deep.

You taught us definitions.

“It always begins with prayer!”

You showed us to not despair

For when your life was not so fair

You lived those definitions.

And now it’s off to Illinois you go;

To Peoria and Chicago

But as you leave always know

You’ve left us with true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, praiseworthy

Definitions.

Her Name Was Dora - A Eulogy

Her name was Dora.

She first joined our household in October, 2004. The organization through which I'd adopted Grace just a few months before,  Because You Care had contacted me asking if I would be willing to foster a dog. She'd been found wandering the streets of Northern Millcreek Township and was only captured after she was too hungry to care. She was coaxed to come in with lunch meat.

She was so scared the volunteers called her Sissy.  When Sissy was brought to my home she was literally dragged in, wrestling and fighting the entire time. But she didn't bite or snap. She didn't want to hurt anyone, she just didn't want to be hurt herself.

I thought it was mean to call her Sissy, highlighting her fear so I renamed her. Initially I called her Cora, for courageous. But after a week I remembered I had a friend who had a daughter named Cora and I didn't think she'd appreciate me naming my dog the same so I tasked with changing her name once again. Because she'd already started to respond to "Cora" I looked for a name that sounded similar. Perhaps Nora? That didn't fit. Maybe Flora? Ick-NO. I tried Dora and she responded so the name stuck. People assume she was named for Dora the Explorer, but that wasn't the case.

Once in my house she backed away from Grace and me and barked. Eventually, when people came to visit she wouldn't run away, but stand behind me - possibly for protection...and bark. Finally, feeling a bit more comfortable in her surroundings she would stand in front of me - possibly to protect me(?)...and bark.

Dora barked at the mailman. She barked at the UPS driver. She barked at the neighbors when they sat on their porches. She barked at repairmen - at my home and the neighbors.  She barked at all the people who walked up and down my street, and I live on a street popular with walkers. When giving directions to my house I told people to not bother looking for the house number just listen for the house with the barking dogs. They always found the right house.

I have no idea of what she was trying to communicate. Sometimes to alert me. Sometimes because she was happy. But I think it was most often because she was afraid and anxious. I had her a few years before I could look in her eyes and see she trusted me. Years! I was only supposed to foster her, but I knew that in spite of her progress, relocating Dora would ruin her so I kept her. (Come to think of it, I don't think Because You Care ever charged me the adoption fee!)

Dora wasn't a particularly playful dog. She didn't chase a ball or catch a Frisbee. But she loved to run! Once I felt confident she wouldn't run away from me, I took her over to the GE softball fields and let her off leash.  She would run like a shot! Maybe she was part greyhound or maybe gazelle. She was beautiful to watch, the sun bouncing off her sleek black coat looked as if sparks were flying as she sped across the field. And she was happy! True joy shone from her face, her eyes, as she outran all the fear and that surrounded her.

Another activity she enjoyed was sliding down the slide at Napier Park. Many years ago, Olivia (Barbling #3) coaxed her up the slide steps and I stayed at the bottom to catch her. Dora loved it and kept running back to the steps to try it again.  Finally, on one trip down her claw got caught and she hurt her paw. She didn't enjoy the slide as much anymore, though every couple of years I could convince her to take a trip.

Finally, the years caught up to her, as they do all of us.  Her eyes clouded over, she slowed down quite a bit, and her anxiety was keeping her (and me) up many nights. At times her breathing was labored and I suspect she was concealing pain. I decided her time had come and the loving thing would be to put her down, so I made the vet appointment for Saturday, July 27.

On Friday night Dora, Lucy and I made a final walk to Dairy Queen, where they each got a Pet Cup - a cup of vanilla ice cream with a dog biscuit garnish. Normally, the three of us split a small cone, but the occasion warranted their own servings.

Saturday morning, before we left for the vet, Dora and I walked over to the softball fields, where I left her off leash. She didn't run, but she did walk at a faster clip than normal. We then stopped at Napier Park where she walked up to the slide and sniffed it, perhaps bringing back good memories. And then we left for the vet's. My friend, Brenda came with me so I didn't have to face this alone.

In just two days' time I already notice less dog hair around. And the house is quiet. Too quiet! Reflecting on our 15 years together I wondered if maybe I should have kept the name Cora.
Though she'd never conquered her fears Dora had lived a good life in spite of them. Isn't that the true meaning of courage?

Fifteen years and it only occurred to me today to look up the meaning of "Dora"! The name is from the Greek, meaning "gift". Dora is the diminutive of Theodora (or Dorothy) meaning "God's gift". In one of those spiritual ironies, "God's gift" came to live with me just a few months after I'd adopted "Sasha", who I had renamed "Grace". Grace and Dora were meant to be together. And they're together now, with the One who let me have them for a time.

Her name was most appropriately Dora.