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.

There's An App For That : My Half Marathon Adventure, Part 4

When I first started training for the Adirondack Half Marathon, I found an App that seemed to suit my ability and my schedule.  I downloaded it on to my phone and started running,  The initial training sessions were short runs 1.5 miles, 2 miles, 3  miles.  No big deal.  Although it was often hot and muggy during my runs, the distances didn't really warrant carrying water.  As long as I was hydrated throughout the day, I felt fine.  The only thing I carried was my phone and, if a dog was accompanying me, a leash and a "waste" bag.

There are devices made, such as arm bands, so I wouldn't have to hold the phone, but I have never been able to find one that fit my arm.  They were either too big or too tight.  I've never been able to find one that was "just right" (dispense with the Goldilocks jokes, please) so I carried my phone, holding it in place under a rubber band wrapped loosely around my palm. The phone stayed in place while my circulation still circulated.

Still, on longer runs my palms got sweaty and the phone became an uncomfortable nuisance.  Additionally, though I needed it to track my mileage, I often found myself checking the phone to see how far I'd come - or more honestly, checking to see how much further I had to go.  I was not content to wait for the little App Coach to let me know my pace, split times and distance.  I would impatiently check the screen, sometimes actually stopping running to read the stats because of the sun and sweat in my eyes.

As I mentioned in a previous post, on longer runs I found the need to carry food and water to sustain my energy. I have a water bottle that has a handle which wraps around my palm, but like the phone it made my hand sweaty so I started tucking the bottle in to the waistband of my shorts.  It stayed in place...most of the time. But carrying food became a problem.  My running shorts don't have pockets so I had to resort to a "fanny pack".

In the pockets of my fanny pack, which I wore turned towards my front not my fanny, I stowed my phone, food, Kleenex, and a plastic grocery bag (for the dog). I still had to keep my water bottle in the waistband of my shorts.  I was now able to run with my hands free, unless I had a dog with me and then I only had to hold my end of the leash.

An aside here.  Back in June I went camping with my friends Adiel and Mindy.  During our hikes Mindy used a fanny pack to carry her keys, camera, water bottle, etc.  Though Mindy's pack was of a sportier style than most, Adiel and I still made fun of her.  Mindy, please forgive me!)

Some interesting things happened once I reorganized my paraphernalia and ran with empty hands.  I got faster.  (Note:  I said faster not fast.  I'm still slow.)

With the phone in my pack, the little App voice is often muffled or drowned out completely by the sound of street traffic.   When I do hear the App Coach, I can't always discern what she is saying; I only hear a "still, small voice" indicating to me I've made some forward progress.  I just have no idea of how much progress or how much further I have to go. But I love hearing that voice!

Hebrews 12:1 (NASB) says "...let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us".  Other translations use the word "weight" instead of "encumbrance". During my training runs, I wasn't carrying less.  In fact, counting the Swedish Fish and Animal Crackers in my pack, I was carrying more now.  The only difference was my hands were free.  I was no longer distracted by what I was holding.  And I was no longer glancing at my phone, looking to check my stats.

I carry a lot of baggage in my daily life.  I'm weighed down by my long "To Do" list, my worries and concerns. I'm distracted by the voices that tell me I'm behind, not good enough,I'll never catch up, I need to try harder. These are the encumbrances I need to shed.  This is sin of disbelief and this is where grace enters the picture. Just like on my runs, I have to reorganize how I carry things.

Some things Jesus said:

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matt11:28)

"Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you." I Peter 5:6-7

"Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden light." (Matt 11:29-30)

Grace humbles me, not as an embarrassment or a crutch.  Truth be told (sin confessed) my own pride is the crutch on which I lean...and run poorly. Grace is the very legs on which I stand and run the race set before me. Jesus wants me to finish this race and thus He provided the legs, He is there with me every stride, carrying my food and water, feeding me along the way, and telling me to press on.



 

Cheap Grace and Designer Purses

I'm currently reading a devotional book, 40 Days with Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  In one reading Bonhoeffer wrote of what he calls "cheap grace", which he defines:

"Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession...Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate."

As I read this, the image that popped in to my mind was...purses.  Cheap purses. Knock off handbags.  Purses with fake designer labels - they look like the original but on close inspection, they lack the marks of quality craftsmanship originals have.   

Counterfeit bags typically have poor workmanship with loose threads and uneven stitching.  They’re usually made from less expensive materials, with buckles and clasps that are hollow and tarnish easily.  These bags don’t hold up to normal wear and tear and when they get wet, quite often the dyes run and the “leather of questionable means” smells really bad!

People who purchase these purses don’t care they fall apart easily because it’s a simple matter of throwing them out and getting new, more current styles.  They’re easily replaced, suiting the whims of the buyers.  They don’t see the purpose or sense of investing in a classic that will last them a long time.  Besides, expensive purses require a bit of care!

Leathers need conditioned; materials need cleaned; care must be taken to not toss the bags around carelessly or leave exposed to extremes.  Some people don’t think it’s worth the effort to maintain a purse; they see it as a utilitarian and consumable supply or as a fashion statement that only needs to last a season. They’ll keep it as long as it looks good.

Cheap grace is like a counterfeit designer purse. At first glance, it might look like the real thing. Up close, though, it lacks the character and integrity of the genuine article.  Cheap grace doesn’t hold up under even moderate use – Sundays and maybe a few mid-week prayer meetings. The cheapest of cheap grace only has to survive Christmas and Easter!

Though they’d never admit it, far too many Christians see their faith through consumers’ eyes, viewing cheap grace as the best investment since they only need it until the next style comes in to fashion – the next theme, the next inspiring quote, the next movement. And unfortunately, these people convince others that this grace is the genuine article, gathering unsuspecting believers along the way.

However, grace – cheap or otherwise – isn’t a disposable commodity.  When cheap grace is soaked by some thunderstorm, it’s not a purse that comes unglued and smells bad; it’s someone’s heart and soul, left in pieces, disillusioned and bitter.  A heart and soul left wary of ever investing in any grace ever again, even the genuine article.

Forgiveness without repentance does not assuage guilt, but glosses it over, leaving it to be dealt with another day. Baptism without church discipline is membership without commitment; nothing to be counted on, no sure foundation on which to stand. And Communion without confession?  Well, that’s just a piece of bread and a thimbleful of grape juice; a meaningless ritual.

Designer original grace is a free gift (Ephesians 2:8-9) from the Creator but it requires care for it to last. Daily attention is needed to keep it in good order.  Certainly, there are behaviors from which to abstain – Romans 13:13 give a list of ways by which believers can “walk properly” or “behave decently” to keep grace unscathed; but these actions done without wholehearted engagement result in half-hearted efforts – cheap grace.

Jesus said the greatest commandment was to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind; in other words, you preserve grace by loving God with your entire self.  Believers are to be the genuine article, recipients and bestowers of authentic grace; the real thing.

Protecting the Designer original is hard work and sadly, the free gift that God is wanting to lavish on the world is not in demand.  It’s out of fashion.  I admit there are times (far too many times, if I’m going to be honest) I envy the seeming ease of cheap grace; an “I’m OK, you’re OK”, low-maintenance faith. I‘ve amassed my own collection of cheap, fake fashion accessories in my lifetime.

Jesus said we’re to count the cost if we want to be His disciples (Luke 14:28). He speaks of serving and putting others ahead of ourselves. He speaks of being mocked and suffering for His sake.  That free handbag will cost you in blood, sweat and tears – many tears! Yet considering the eternal rewards of God’s promises, the cost is minimal.

What’s amazing is not only is the gift free, but by His death and resurrection, Jesus gives us the ability to perform the maintenance!  His promises do all the heavy lifting! Promises like “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” , “Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.”, and “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”,  to quote just a few.

On the front end, cheap grace looks appealing but it has no staying power. Accepting anything other than the genuine article is a gamble, only it's not your reputation as a fashionista that you are betting, you’re gambling your eternal soul.  In the gospel of Mark, Jesus is quoted  "For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?" Those bargain bags aren't really bargains after all.

Accepting genuine grace brings about great reward, now and later. There are many verses that speak of this, such as "The wicked earns deceptive wages, but one who sows righteousness gets a sure reward" (Prov 11:18), "Whosoever despises the word brings destruction on himself, but he who reveres the commandment will be rewarded" (Prov 11:13)

Precious items such as these only fit in designer original handbags.  Accept no substitute.