You've Got This, I've Got you

   

       As with any good story, there's always a lesson to be learned. There have been many lessons in my life; some obvious and some not so clear. The lessons I have learned (and am still learning) from my sweet ol' pup, Shadow, are transparent.

     His legs now wobble and his back has become swayed.  He moves slowly, yet still follows me from place to place. And when commanded to stay, he will have none of it, for he is my little shadow.   To look at him one would not guess his age. His coat still shines  blue black and is soft as silk. It flows in the wind, Majestic. There is something magical about his old age, as if his years transcend time, for in him there is much wisdom. His eyes meet mine and I know. 

     Like a lion's mane, his coat is his crowning glory. Though,  I still find the cursed tumbleweeds of fur floating about. I hate the tumbleweeds.  And yet I love the tumbleweeds.  His face is splattered with patches of gray which are now highlighted by his wise sweet old eyes. Eyes that look straight into mine, into my heart.  He is forever watching, forever loving.

      Shadow's health is declining, and little by little my sweet ol' pup is deteriorating.  He is now a senior. Where did the time go? It doesn't seem possible that it was fourteen years ago that I gathered the little furball into my arms and took him home to be mine. Now, like any senior, he has a pill box filled with daily prescriptions.  And his new food turns him away. My heart breaks. He looks so sad.  He watches me as I watch him through the glass door. Our eyes meet and somehow I know. I know I am reading the last chapters of his sweet little life. 

     He stands sniffing the air, his head up and his fur flowing in the breeze. He turns and looks back at me before taking another step. "I am here," I whisper through the glass door. His legs move unsteadily as he steps off the patio. I watch him, he turns and watches me once again. The bounce in his step is gone. Days of chasing balls and going for walks have passed away. I wonder what pleases him now. He turns and stares at me, watching me and I know.

     As I move about the kitchen he slowly walks out of sight. But when I open the door, he is not there. I call for him but he can no longer hear without my whistling or a clap. We communicate through body language now. I slip into my shoes. And after searching the yard I find him on the driveway. He is standing next to my car, waiting.  He looks longingly at me and I know. 

     Car rides used to make him sick when he was tiny, but as he grew he came to love them. It was our time together. He would breathe in the fresh air through the open window, his head held high, his legs strong. We'd drive to the walking trails.  He loved those walks.  I loved them too.   As I look at him standing there next to my car my heart aches. The last few car rides I've helped him into the car and instead of standing and pawing for an open window he laid down.  Now,  he looks at me with his head tilted and I know.


     This morning as I helped him off the high bed (which I helped him onto last night) he was slow to move. I steadied his legs as he got down.  I walked to the stairs and called to him with a wave. He knows me well.  He walked to me, looked below and hesitated. I reached for his collar and we began slowly down the stairs together.

     Once down a few steps,  my son's new puppy scampered up to Shadow. Shadow hesitated. The puppy jumped nibbling at his legs. The puppy is a nibbler and a nuisance to my sweet old friend.  I shewed the nibbler and said to Shadow, "You've got  this, I've got you." I continued holding onto his collar and patted his head. Once again together we headed down the stairs.

    At the bottom,  I hugged his neck, burying my face in his plush fur, "You have NOT been replaced Shadow. And I will protect you.  Don't give up on me. I still need you my friend."  
He licks my face and I know. 

     As I type these words, his head rests on my toes, with an occasional lick.  I cry and pray, "Heal him if you will Lord. But I know he is old and will not live forever. How can I do it Lord?  How can let go of the one who has known me so well; the one whom I rescued, but truly  rescued me?" 

I can't bare to say the words, to think the inevitable. I pray again, this time asking for more time. I don't know how long we have together but I want MORE.  Tears run hot down my cheeks. How will I know when it's time? How will I then be able to say good-bye?  I pray for strength and that the darkness would not swallow me up when that time comes. Saying goodbye is never easy. It hurts, and dare I say what many know? Sometimes losing a pet can be one of the deepest sorrows of all. So I pray some more. I cry.  My toes take in the warmth of his fur. I hang on to the moment, wishing it to last forever. 

 And then I remember the words, "You've got this, I've got you."  
This time they are meant for me, and I know. 

      I know:
Shadow's story, our story is coming to an end.

      I know:
Pets are a gift from God and they teach us the unconditional love He has for us.
They bring great joy AND with it, great sorrow.
Though we rescue them, they often rescue us.
And though I am Shadow's master, he watches over me. 
And just like God, Shadow finds great joy simply by being with me. 
He longs to walk with me, so does the Lord.
 
I know:
 
That God has taught me many lessons through the life of my sweet ol' friend, Shadow.

And I also know that when I can't do the impossible, 
God will continue to hold me, whispering to me,

         "You've got this,  BECAUSE I've got you."

Thank you Lord for the lessons you've taught me through my sweet companion, Shadow.



    

The Shadows of Life

                                                                       Google Image


The scent of rain swept through my bedroom window bringing with it a booming percussion off in the distance. Slipping out of bed I began the sprint to close the windows throughout the house. My sweet pup Shadow followed closely behind, his whiskers tickling my calves. It is not unusual for him to live up to his name and shadow me where ever I go, but this night he stuck to me like glue. If I turned left, he turned left. If I turned right he was almost there before me.


I climbed back into bed as the rain began and was accompanied by rhythmic thunder booms. My beloved pup did his usual pawing at the side of the bed, his request to come up. There was a time his limber legs would allow him to hop up on his own, but those days  have passed.  I dropped to the floor and wrapped my arms around his backside helping him onto the bed. He found his spot but could not relax.   Pops of lightening grabbed for his attention and caused his breathing to became a raspy pant. He slowly lifted himself up and stood over me, looking at all the shadows as they snapped upon the walls.


I lifted the down covers and called to Shadow. He stood looking out the window and then at the dancing walls. I pulled him close covering him completely with the dark comforter, careful to give him room to breathe.  His breathing slowed yet was still elevated.  With each flash of light his head popped out from under the covers.  I spoke softly while wrapping my arms around him.  As the rain began to soften, his head would drop to the pillow and his heart rate would slow, but with each new flash of lightening his anxiety would rise again.


For over a half an hour I tried to reassure him but to no avail. It was merely a thunder shower, not even a true storm. As I began to feel sleep deprived I felt frustration rise within me at my inability to comfort him. Sadly he could not perceive the situation as I could. I knew that we were safe, yet flashes of light and the shadows on the wall became a huge distraction for him. His focus had been drawn away from my comforting words, and it saddened me at how afraid he had become.

And then hit me; how patient my master Jesus is with me when I too get distracted by the perceived storms in life. How quickly I run into the arms of fear rather than faith.  How easily I can look to the dark shadows, all the while God is calling me under His comforting shelter. Under His wing I am protected from all that threatens me, real or false. And when I DO draw close to him, I can almost hear the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. It is there that I find true rest on even the darkest of nights. Oh yes, how easily I can focus on all the shadows of life instead of the safety of the Shadow of Almighty God.  How much trouble I could save myself if I would simply would run (or crawl) into the open arms of the one who loves me like no other.


Once again my sweet ol' Shadow reminded me of God's great love for me (and for you).  I pray the next time the thunder booms we will run straight to the Comforter of our soul and pay no attention to the dancing shadows of life.

 

Psalm 91

¹ Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
² I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

³ Surely he will save you
    from the fowler’s snare
    and from the deadly pestilence.
⁴ He will cover you with his feathers,
    and under his wings you will find refuge;
    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
⁵ You will not fear the terror of night,
    nor the arrow that flies by day,

Drinkin' from the Toliet Bowl

                                                                                     

     God's been speaking to me a lot lately about being thirsty. Dehydration both in the physical and in the Spiritual can be deadly. Yesterday I heard a familiar sound but couldn't put my finger on it, so I went to investigate. There in the spare bathroom was Shadow drinking out of the toilet! It seems someone left the lid up and forgot to flush. Yuck. I thought to myself, "He needs water and he's thirsty." But when I went into the kitchen there was a full bowl of clean water. I shook my head at how crazy he can act.
     But once again God spoke to me, showing me that often times when we are Spiritually thirsty we too choose to drink from the toilet bowl. We choose it over the fresh living water of God's word. Oh the toilet water might taste good at the time, but in reality it can be filthy and lead to further dehydration of the soul. And then there's our 16 year old cat, Fred, who whines until I turn on the faucet so he can drink fresh running water. To him his water bowl is just not "clean" enough, even after I have just filled it. Cats are known to be finicky. It seems to me however we can learn a lot from both Fred and Shadow. Clean fresh water is essential for the body and the Spirit. And there is only one whose "living water" will satisfy even the driest of bones.

"Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, 14 but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” ~John 4: 13-14


"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." ~Matthew 5:6

Waiting for the Walk

   

                                              
   
     
     The look in Shadow's eyes spoke far more than the tilt of his head. How many times had I seen that expression in his eyes?  How often did he stand staring, waiting for my signal, alerting him of his turn; the time to walk once again? And how many times have I acknowledged him while running out the door with a mere nod saying, "I'll be back?"

    Before the arthritis invaded his joints, Shadow and I adored our walks together. Early morning was our favorite time,  before the world came to life. He and I would take the short car ride to the walking trails near our home.  I'm not sure what he enjoyed most, the walk itself or the fresh air blowing against his snout during the drive. As we walked he wore with pride my keys around his neck. Their jingling gave rhythm to our walk. There also seemed to be an extra bounce in his step those days. Our walks together were treasures.  I came to know Shadow's mannerisms and became keenly aware of when he was thirsty or tired. The pace of our steps were often in-sync, rarely did he tug or pull; he simply was content walking next to me.  And I was thrilled to have him there.  I thoroughly enjoyed the gentleness of those mornings, just he and I, and God's creation. Those mornings always set the tone for a much better day.

     The last couple of years I've been helping a lady care for her little dogs. Daily I feed them and walk them. They are sweet and I thoroughly delight in our time together.  I love the feel of the warm breeze and watching the loons and other wild life as we meander around the lake together. Recently I began helping other friends with their dogs as well. This takes up a bit more of my time. But each time I return home, there are my two loving pups, waiting to greet me at the door; ready and willing to lavish me with their unconditional love.

     The other morning after walking one set of pups I came home for a quick lunch. And rushed back out the door for another appointment. As I turned to say goodbye to Shadow there he stood, my gray faced pup, head tilted. He waited longingly, as if to say, "Can I come now?"  His expression tugged at my heart as I gave him a big hug. I felt like such a traitor.

     It was true. I had been spending far more time giving love and attention to other's pets. But sadly the last time Shadow and I walked down our street his arthritic joints slowed him down. We had not walked far when he began limping.  He never whimpered, yet I worried he was in pain. It was in his faithfulness to me that kept him right on walking. He was thrilled just to be with his master. My heart broke as I watched him limp back home and I decided then that our days of walking together were coming to a close.

    As I drove to my next appointment, I pondered about  how wonderful those times were.  I kept thinking of the longing in Shadow's eyes, the confusion, as he stood at the door waiting for me just to give the word. I never meant to betray my sweet old pup, but something about his expression that day really nudged at me.  Like a gentle breeze I felt another nudging; another's whisper.  I sensed the Lord's voice, "Shadow is not the only one whose heart longs for you."  Once again God. in his kindness, had revealed another lesson from Shadow;  the Lord's love for us is far greater and he too stands waiting at the door.

     Like Shadow, He longs for our time together, it is a treasure to Him.  I began to ask myself, "Do I get as excited over my walk with Him?"  I wonder how often he finds me running out the door with nothing more than a mere nod in his direction.  Yet the Lord is gentle and will never force us to love Him. He simply desires that we would take delight in our walk with Him as much as He delights in us. So He waits.  Like Shadow he continues to wait patiently, longingly.

      Thankfully He walks beside us daily, even when we don't acknowledge Him.  The journey of our lives is a gift from our Master. He yearns for us to know that walking beside Him is also a gift.                                       

   How precious is the path for those who daily walk beside their Master.
   

                                                                                                                                                                                                         "You will show me the path of life: in your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures for ever more."  ~Psalm 16:11

                                                                                                  
                                                                                                       (Google image above)

To Live the Life of a Treasure Hunter

You've heard it said, "Live as though today is the first and last day of your life." But how do we put it into practice? Why is it that people who are living with a terminal disease can appreciate life so much more than those of us who go through our usual day to day existence?  What reality snaps within them that allows them to appreciate the flight of a butterfly or the strength of an ant so much more than before their diagnosis?  Is it because they are able to now appreciate the gift of life that they have been given; even if only for this moment?  The butterfly has not changed its flight, nor has the ant its stride, yet simply the perception of them has become new. I long for that kind of vision, to appreciate LIFE, every bit of it. Of course I'd prefer not  to have to come face to face with death in order to do so. But if we are truly honest, we all are terminal; we only have this moment. The next moment is a mystery, and life can change in the blink of an eye.  Yes, what a gift to see the world with the awe of a child, to capture the beauty within the mundane, to give thanks for the pain, because even in the pain there is life.  

  

                Lord, on our journey together, no matter how long or short it may be, please open my eyes. 
                                                                  
                                               I want to find it to be a beautiful view, every step of the way.

The Leash of Life

                                                                             

 Instead of leading as she usually does during our morning walk, today little Lilly decided to walk far behind me.  As I led the way, she was easily distracted and chose to chase birds, smell the air and eat bird poop (I know yuck, right!)

     She and I both had confidence in the leash, recognizing that it would keep her connected to me. As long as I held the leash and it was attached to her, she would be kept safe.  It was her life line. The Lord showed me that we too have a life line, a leash of sorts, by way of his Holy Spirit. On those days when we just can't seem to find our way and get off course, we can be confident knowing that his Holy Spirit will somehow draw us to where we need to go. Just as I gently drew Lilly toward the lake by way of the leash, He too will draw us on his path for us by way of His Spirit.  Let's face it, if we're honest we all have days like that; days we're just taggin' along in life, unfocused and easily distracted by life's circumstances. Thankfully for those of us who have accepted the gift of God's son, Jesus, we can be certain that even on those days, we have a wonderful life line that will never leave us stranded. He will never leave us nor forsake us.

Joshua 1:5

No one will be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.

                                                                         

                                                                              ~GOD                             (google image)

A lesson from Lilly

                                                                                           

I wonder if I am more like one of the little dogs I walk, than I realize. Her name is Lilly and she is a Prima Donna. Always the last one to get out of her master's bed in the morning. Each morning after I walk her brother and sister I go to her, waking her for her morning walk. She covers her sweet little face with her tiny paws as if to say, "Not now, please go away, let me sleep." I suppose here would be a good place to interject that I don't mean to say that I too am a Prima Donna! 

But walking her this morning, with her pom pom tail wagging along the way, the Lord showed me how similar we can be.
As we traveled down the path she sniffed her usual spots, always several steps ahead of me. After she "did her duty" she continued to walk farther down the path getting further ahead of me than I desired. The path is beautifully paved and winds around a quaint little lake. It's full of lots of scents and wildlife, lots of distractions for a little dog. Much like life can be for you and I.

Lilly is one who wants to be boss, always. Ahem, I'm not bossy either (Well. . . maybe sometimes.) But as I turned and began to walk in the direction toward home, I called to her, beckoning for her to follow. Lilly leaned forward puling with all her 15 lbs of force; her chest nearly resting on the ground. She was not budging. Determined to lead she leaned further in the other direction. (She does this A LOT) I called to her as lovingly as I could, but she just tugged the leash even harder, determined to walk in the way she wanted to go, paying no attention to my calls.

Lilly and I have walked for over two years now. In that time I have learned that when it comes to little Lilly, the harder I pull the harder she pulls back. Stubborn that one is. Obviously, I am much bigger than her and I could just give her one big yank and send her flying back in my direction. (Believe me I have been tempted.) But that could seriously hurt her. So I gently let up on the leash, giving her some slack, allowing her to walk the way she has decided to go. Once she is no longer focused on getting her own way I am then able to get her attention. I call her name, squat down, clap my hands and she comes running, happy as a lark.

This morning once again as she leaned with all her might, the Lord placed it on my heart that people are much like Lilly. We walk down the path of life often times walking ahead of God paying him little to no attention at all. Sometimes we acknowledge him but still want to lead, wanting to go in our own direction. He is such a gentleman, and He never yanks. Just as I wanted Lilly to make it safely home, He also knows the right path for us. Lilly didn't see the rain clouds and didn't know it was about to rain, but I did. God sees the clouds rising in the distance in our lives and attempts to lead his children in a different direction. Sadly, many times, just like Lilly, we too keep forging ahead, away from the one who can see us safely home. Rebellion is a dangerous thing yet always smelling attractive and looking lovely.

Just some food for thought. Have you surrendered to his leading today or are you determined to go your own way, rain and all?