Another Happy

There were some definite ups and downs today, but because I set myself the task of noting a happy moments, the day has a more positive glow about it than it would otherwise.

All in all, I'd have to say my favorite "happy" of this day was a brief few minutes I had with R this afternoon.  There was nothing unusual about it.  Four days a week I leave to take L to dance just before R gets home from school.  So I usually call him on my way back home just to touch base.  We have a script we follow, and every day it sounds exactly like this:

"Hey bud, how you doin'?"
"Fine."
"How was school?"
"Good."
"What happened today?"
"Nothin'."

The beauty of mother-son bonding.  Sometimes I have errands to run, but usually I head back home for more bonding of the same variety.  About once a week the script is lengthened by a few seconds:

"Did you get something to eat?"
"No.  What can I eat?"
"Well, you can make a turkey sandwich or nachos. There are pizza rolls and corn dogs in the freezer."
"Will you bring me McDonald's?"

For the record, he has never made himself a turkey sandwich after school.  But being a mom I persist in suggesting it;  it is such a reasonable choice.  By McDonald's he means a McDouble and a strawberry shake.

So today was a McDouble day.  I walked in with his sandwich and shake, and we had about 15 minutes of completely meaningless banter.  I think I pointed out the amazing difference in price per ounce if one buys a larger bottle of perfume versus a small bottle.  He was duly impressed and countered with advice on the best knife to use when sizing down a shake cup so the dog can get his muzzle all the way to the bottom of the cup.  We discussed the best gym membership option for me and T, especially given that neither of us has made it to the gym yet this year.  And we ended our time together playing a silly game of "What'd you say?", asking each other to repeat him/herself for no good reason at all except to win a smile for silliness. Completely inane but gently amusing, and  somehow it worked with the rhythm of the moment, causing my heart to swell with happy.

There were other happy moments today.  I found a beautiful party dress for L to wear to the Daddy-Daughter dance this Saturday for $12 at a consignment shop.  She is only 80% pleased with it, but for $12, who could beat it?  That was a happy!  I went to the dentist, had a cleaning and a repair job done and nothing hurt.  That was a happy!  I had a fun conversation with my sister on the car ride home from the dentist.  And the sun was out and the sky was blue.  Happy, happy!  I created a yummy jambalaya-type concoction for dinner because I had nothing else prepared, and everyone liked it.  Happy.   

But those few moments with my R stand out as the best of the day.  He is a quiet kid, a still-waters-run-deep kind of kid.  When T is home, the TV is on, L is chattering away, the pressures of dinner, homework, and various chores consume our attention, he can easily fade into the background.  Even when I'm alone with him, he's not quick to volunteer his thoughts.

So I cherish those moments of connection, of eye contact, smiles and light hearts, of affable interaction. Today, he was my happy.

Happy Moment Project

So, in spite of my quasi-bashing of the Happiness Project book a post of two ago, I'm becoming a disciple.  My sister has an idea she's implementing from her journey through the Happiness Project that I think is just a stroke of genius! Every night before she hops into bed she is taking the time to think through what the happiest moment of the day was, and writing it down.  Just a line or two.  But what a fantastic discipline!  First of all, it forces us to remember that, no matter how heavy our burdens seemed that day, there was a happy moment.  It forces us to dwell on it, even if just for a minute or two, and be thankful.  Additionally, it will allow us to see a pattern in what makes us happy, and that pattern, I'm guessing, may surprise us in the end!

So what was my happy moment for today?  It had to be the 30 minutes in the hot tub with the family (T and the younger two kids, R and L).  It was cold enough that the boards of the deck creaked as we walked on them, the sky was clear and full of stars, and we were all relaxed, talking about nothing, just being together.  Oliver was alternately playing in the snow or under the deck, and then coming up to nuzzle someone's neck or lick an arm.  We discussed which hot tub light color we liked best and why, deciding ultimately that red and blue were the favorites.  R ran out into the snow for a bit just for the thrill of coming back into the warm tub.  We discussed that although the challenge of making a snow angel in a wet bathing suit might sound fun, it would not be advisable with all the poop accumulating in the yard right now!  And we saw who could lift their straight legs furthest out of the water while seated.  That was probably the most important issue at hand.  It was a happy moment!

Strange Week

It's a odd occurrence indeed when the quintessential homebody, yours truly, is bored on a relaxed evening at home, but such is the case tonight.  Nothing on TV, can't eat anymore, and it's not time for bed yet, meaning the family's all still up so I don't feel right secreting myself away to read a good book.  And actually, I have nothing to say, so I shouldn't be blogging, but like I said, I'm bored.

So I will entertain you with the strange emotional upheavals in our home over the past week.  It all began last Monday when we went out to dinner, just the four of us, T, R (son), L (daughter) and me.  L, an 8th-grader, announces that her friend, Mary, asked a guy she liked, Teddy, out on a date to a movie this weekend.  Her mom said she could as long as another friend went with them.

That was as far as she got, and T said, "NO."  Whew!  Go T!  Up with dads!

Much to my surprise, however, L's face immediately clouded over and her eyes welled up with tears.  Now I, being the parent who can usually "track" with the kids emotionally, was lost.  Bewildered.  Confused, perplexed and stupefied.  Rattled, snowed, stumped and befuddled.  (Nah, I'm just having fun with dictionary.com.  =)  )  Why would this be so important to her?  She sees her small group of friends almost everyday.  What could possibly be the big deal about not being allowed to go to this movie?  I knew she was showing a rather new interest in guys, but I couldn't believe she actually liked this guy.  Besides, it wasn't her date -- she was just to be the chaperone. I hoped that maybe it was nothing more than being tired or hormonal and the whole issue would evaporate with a good night's sleep.

No such luck.  The issue was not only alive and kicking the next day,  it was morphing before our eyes, changing shape hoping to take on a more acceptable form.  I had told L that I had nothing against guys coming to be a part of her social landscape, but I preferred it all happen in a more natural way, slowly ingratiating themselves with her "homies" until they were all just a big gang of friends, guys and girls together.  I told her this just seemed forced.  Mary wanted a date, so she was trying to pull her friends onto the scene, rather than going out with friends and inviting a friendly guy along to get to know everyone too.

After a bit of haggling I agreed that if there were more girls than guys in the party, she could go.  So her friend went to work, calling all the girls they knew, trying to massage the numbers in their favor (because now there were two guys involved -- Teddy wanted to bring his friend, Tony).  As it turned out, T and I were so distracted by the social dynamics of the situation, we hadn't worried a bit about what movie they had chosen.  The other moms, having no idea of the origin of the gathering, were all saying 'no' because they were proposing to see the PG-13 movie, Chronicle.  Thankfully, those moms looked up the review and saw that the movie included multiple references to teen sex, including a scene where a teen boy leads a teen girl up to his room, and then there's a shot of his pants down around his ankles.  Another teenage boy complains he hasn't had sex since the previous summer.  Wonderful.  And this is PG-13.

But the strange thing was L's emotional attachment to this outing.  She cried every time I brought it up, and there seemed to be no talking reason with her.  I just couldn't figure out what was going on.  I mean, I get it.  She's a full-blown teenager now, and I've felt the full force of the crabbiness for more than a year now.  But this was different.  Never before had we come to loggerheads over value judgments.  She has always agreed with our ideas of right versus wrong, wise versus foolish, smart versus stupid, careful versus reckless, judicious versus foolhardy, sagacious versus naive, perspicacious versus ignorant...  =)   (just bein' silly)

Finally this morning, at the eleventh hour, she revealed her perspective, and all the missing pieces fell into place.  After more tears even before 9:00 a.m., we were on our way to her once-a-week homeschool classes, Palaestra, where she would have to either finalize plans or bail completely on Mary, and she reached over to turn off the radio.  (I had turned it on just to diffuse the obvious tension between us.)  She said she had been praying that God would provide a way for her to get to know more homeschooled kids from Palaestra, and she really believed that this was God's answer to her prayer.  She had no interest in either of these guys, and she didn't approve of her friend trying to work the back door to have a date, but she was really just wanting her social world to be able to expand a bit.  And having prayed, she had been so happy to have this opportunity.  That was all.

Ahhh.  Now this made sense.  For several weeks she had been talking about wishing she knew more people at Palaestra, feeling a little confined with her small group of four or five girls.  Maybe a little caged, constrained and hemmed in.  Hog-tied, repressed, restricted, held back and trapped.  Cramped, enclosed, hindered, stifled.  (More dictionary.com  =P  )  What a wonderful balm to my soul that she had brought her trouble to the Lord!  All the pieces came together happily.

We are so blessed with this daughter, our most social little peanut, that her friends' parents have such great relationships with their daughters and are so intimately involved in their daughters' lives.  I dropped her off at Palaestra, did a couple errands and returned an hour or so later.  When I walked into the mom waiting area, Mary's mom, Lisa, and another friend who had not been willing to let her daughter see Chronicle, were sitting together reading the movie's review online.  And, don't tell L, but I filled them in on all the upheaval this "date" had caused in our family.  Lisa had no idea all these social contortions had been going on, and was very glad to read to full scoop about the movie.

We talked openly about our ideas about how to handle the whole "dating" scene with our kids, various challenges, wanting to guide the kids in wisdom yet without being so restrictive that we actually incite rebellion.  Lisa searched out the girls and talked to them about changing the movie selection, and to her daughter about the wisdom of all these awkward machinations just to get a "date" with Teddy.  (Do you think Teddy has any idea what's going on here?)

T and I always told our kids that the purpose of dating is marriage.  If they're not ready to get married, or if marriage is not at least somewhere in the foreseeable future, then they're not ready to date.  Our older two children definitely saw the sense in that line of thinking.  So far, I believe the younger two do also.  Thank you, Lord!

So the social engagement is on.  A better movie selection has drawn a few more girls, and I'm sure the whole thing will be fine.  Mary is still sweet on Teddy and will enjoy a little time with him, but I'm sure, whatever chemistry exists between them, prudence will prevail.  L has a great group of friends and her friends have great parents.  I am so thankful to go through these tumultuous years with them.

******************

Date turned out to be quite anticlimactic.  The boys arrived at the theater, bought their tickets and sat down a good 10-15 minutes before the girls, who arrived just in time to buy a ticket and find a seat.  After the movie, the boys mumbled something about having to use the bathroom, and were off.  That was that.  So much vexation for so little return.  Ouy!

The Happiness Project

My sister, Becky, called me yesterday, the one who won such strong accolades in yesterday's post, the one with the majestic advice for me in my time of crisis. Yesterday, however, her ideas filled me with a smidgen of childish perplexity.

She just finished reading the popular book, The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun, by Gretchen Rubin.  She loved it and said she couldn't help but think of me the whole time she was reading it.  Apparently the author reminded her of me, of the way I think.

I'm going to paste the product description from the Amazon website here because I'm too lazy to try to summarize it myself.  (Besides which I haven't read the book yet! That would make it tricky to summarize!)

Gretchen Rubin had an epiphany one rainy afternoon in the unlikeliest of places: a city bus. "The days are long, but the years are short," she realized. "Time is passing, and I'm not focusing enough on the things that really matter." In that moment, she decided to dedicate a year to her happiness project.

In this lively and compelling account, Rubin chronicles her adventures during the twelve months she spent test-driving the wisdom of the ages, current scientific research, and lessons from popular culture about how to be happier. Among other things, she found that novelty and challenge are powerful sources of happiness; that money can help buy happiness, when spent wisely; that outer order contributes to inner calm; and that the very smallest of changes can make the biggest difference. 

Like I said, I haven't read the book, although I promised my sister I would.  My bet is that I will like Gretchen Rubin's "voice" and the way her mind works.  And from what I understand about the content, it sounds valid.

It's the premise I'm struggling with.  I don't want to live for, to pursue, happiness.  Which, you understand, is different from not wanting happiness, right?  I want to live to please God, to be a worthy servant.  And that will make me happy!

I hate to be such a wet blanket here.  I hate to feel like I'm over-spiritualizing, to be always pounding away at the spiritual, but somebody's got to say it!  I just can't swallow this, as much as I want to be excited about my sister's new enlightenment. I cannot wrap my mind around how or why any Christian would even buy a book like this.

Okay.  Now for some honesty.  I have been not happy in my days.  In fact, I have been not happy even recently, and I have, quite by accident, stumbled upon some of Gretchen's recommendations as a result.  They do work!  I am happier since I began my closet/cabinet/drawer purge at the beginning of the year.  I have a plan to methodically work my way through every nook and cranny of this topsy-turvy house, and it has made me immeasurably happier since I began! And I've been happier since I've been blogging more regularly.  It's a crazy, inexplicable happiness with no basis in rational thought.  

Yesterday I spent a little time with a friend, a time when we usually catch up on each other's weeks.  I found myself with absolutely nothing to tell her that was new.  But inside I felt like I had had such an amazingly colorful week, so full of riches and lovely nuggets -- how could it be that I had nothing to tell her? But the rich, lovely nuggets have been my opportunities to write here, and that's not much of a conversation starter.  The blog makes me happy, and apparently (per my sister) that fits into one of the happiness factors she describes in the book. 


And -- I think this is also something Gretchen mentions --  I do, I really do, want to run a 5k race again before I die.  I've been thinking I may as well get started on that this year.  And that will make me happy!

So, without reading the book, I unwittingly stumbled onto some of her ideas, and they have helped.  A lot!  So what's my problem with the book? 

Well, I feel a bit pouty about it because I had been nurturing the warm fuzzy notion that it was the Holy Spirit who, in love, had nudged me in these right directions, who had lifted me up out of the morass of my own self-centeredness and aimlessness, who saw and had compassion on the tangled quagmire of emotion that is me.  But in addition, I had been nursing a flicker of hope that there may have been a good purpose in some of these things other than my own happiness.



So the idea that without Him I could have stumbled onto these remedies through some self-help book is discomfiting.  It makes me pout.  And furrow my brow. These were my special treasures from the Lord, and now they've been made cheap, like from the bargain table outside a bookstore.

And THEEENNNN, my good sister says to me, "Hey! I think the reason you've been feeling better lately is the (homeopathic remedy) you took!" 

So, NooooOOOOOoooo, it couldn't be the Lord, it was a homeopathic remedy!  And whatever that remedy doesn't cure, please read my self-help book.  That will do the trick.


I was heading into full-grump mode at that point.  "I think I gotta go now," was all I said.  I made all the appropriate noises along the way (girl vomit, come to think of it -- see previous post), because this sister is as dear as life to me and I'd never want to burst her bubbles -- she's all about homeopathy these days.  But I really prefer to think of Jesus as the more direct source of all this goodness in my life.


Well, vent complete.  That's all I got for today.  Have a good night!

Girl Vomit

So last night B, my college-age daughter, called me from school.  She has been frustrated for awhile with the Christian fellowship she's involved in just because she's a ~deep~ kind of gal, and well, her friends just ain't there yet, y'know?  But she's good for them.

The other night she was at their life group meeting, and one of the girls was brooding over the one thing most girls that age have on their minds: marriage.  "Ohhhhhhhhhh, I just don't know if God has someone for me to marry/ what if I never get married/ I want to get married/ what guy would ever want me/ when will that guy I like ever notice me/ no he never will notice me because I'm not desirable/ I'm not pretty/ what if God means me to be single all my life/ will anyone ever love me/ no no one will ever love me."  That whole dialog.

And the other girls were "encouraging her in love," right?  That means they were all about, "Ohhhhhhhhhh, I know God has someone for you/ you're beautiful/  no really you are/ yes yes you are/ God has His timing/ you're very desirable/ yes someone will love you/ God has the perfect guy for you/ just wait on Him."

Well, I get the feeling B has been very tolerant of this kind of talk for quite a while, very patient with all the girly stuff that she just can't identify with right now.  But apparently she reached her breaking point the other night.  She said, "Mom, I blasted them, and I'm kind of proud of myself.  They just stared at me.  But I'm so sick of the way girls are always vomiting rainbows and flowers and unicorns. I had to set them straight!"

Vomiting rainbows and flowers and unicorns???  No wonder she's an English major!  I about fell off the couch laughing!  That is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time and an absolute TRUTH about the way women talk to each other!  I love my B, and I'm so glad she has such a wonderful spiritual head on her shoulders!

Basically, and I hope I do her thoughts justice, she told them what a completely self-centered view they have of it all.  Their hearts need to be wholly His, anxious to do His bidding, not wondering what He has in store for them.  It's all about Him!  They need to be all about falling in love with Him, and He can fulfill all their heart's desires completely.  No man can ever do that, and they're in for some bitter disappointment if they're waiting to be fulfilled from marriage.  Jesus will not settle until He is their everything.

Boy, what was the verse she quoted from Song of Solomon?  I can't find it exactly, but she pointed out how the bride rose in the night and wandered about searching for her lover.  She was distracted from everything else, and troubled until she found him.  And that will be their lives too in marriage.  Marriage will bring with it the troubles of the world and distractions from the One who does fulfill.

Wooooohoo!  You go girl!  I can only say, I sure wasn't there when I was 19!  And as much as that may not have been what some of them wanted to hear, it does beat the rainbow, flower and unicorn vomit they expected!

I have to admit, I've been guilty of girl vomit myself in my relationships with other women.  As I thought this over this morning, I decided that some women need to hear vomit, and some would be better off if I gave them the truth straight up, the way B did.  For example, my sister Becky, happens to be very hard on herself, and she doesn't have a lot of people in her life to remind her of the rainbows, flowers and unicorns.  So I consider that my job.  =)  I have another friend, however, who could use a little more straight up truth, and I've been guilty of giving her the girl vomit she likes. Very guilty -- I'm ashamed as I think of it.

I'm not sure she could handle the straight up truth, actually.  I guess I pretty much assume that if a woman isn't facing the truth on her own between herself and the Lord, if she's out looking for schmoozy, schmaltzy sympathy rather than (wo)manning up and steeling herself for the hard business of faith, then she just doesn't have the strength or the will to do it at all and my words will only irritate, not help.

You would think there would be a happy medium, something between blasting people's socks off and kissing their feet.  Sadly, though, I don't think there usually is. It's a paradigm shift that is usually required, and that's a little harder to ease your way into.

For example, at my stage of life, the dialog about wanting God to provide the husband has sometimes shifted to whining about the husband God provided. For some, B's admonition comes true: only Jesus can fulfill their heart's desires completely, and if they had hoped to find fulfillment in marriage, they have now been bitterly disappointed.

So I listen, completely, thoroughly, wholly understanding their pain -- because I was not where B is spiritually at 19...or at 26.  I was one of those girls pining away for marriage, and I am living proof that Jesus does not give up on us until our hearts are wholly His.

I understand pain in marriage.  (So does T, by the way.)  So having been there, and being one who still hangs out there occasionally even now, you'd think I'd be better able to hear their pain and then point them in the right direction. 

But how do you sneak up on the idea that they need to stop crying and quit being so selfish.  That they need to let their husband be who he is, warts and all, and make the desire of their heart to be nothing but God's glory.  They need to say to themselves, "Lord, I am here to glorify You, whatever that means.  My desire is not my happiness, but Your glory here on this earth.  Please show me how to do that."  And God, being who He is, will not fail to fill their hearts to bursting with the very joy they had been looking for in the first place.

That's a big leap from the perspective of the woman annoyed with hubby.  It's much easier to listen to the list of minor grievances and nod sympathetically.  When trouble looms on a grander scale, however, say divorce is on the table, then it's easier to skip the girl vomit and go right to the spiritual reality.

One day years ago my world was rocked by something T said to me.  We had just learned that my niece had been dating a married man 17 years older than she was.  She broke up his marriage, and now they were living together.  The man was about our age and had two kids approximately the ages of our two oldest kids.  It would seem that the man got a pretty good deal:  my niece is hot, makes good money for herself, and doesn't ever want kids of her own.  In other words, lots of sex and no responsibility.  You can see why this might have caught my attention.  I mean, what would keep T from going to find a deal like that for himself???  So I asked him, and he said, "I don't know..."

Hel-lo!  That was not the right answer.  I called my sister, Becky, sobbing, and her response was not girl vomit.  It was majestic.  She said, "No matter what T does or doesn't do, your job is to glorify God.  Nothing can keep you from that."

Oh, how the weight lifted!  I have never experienced such immediate emotional relief.  It was truly joyous, and I have never forgotten the principle.  She reminded me that God was still on the throne, and I needed to keep Him on the throne in my heart.  My commission is to serve Him, He is my first love, and nothing T would ever do could change that.

Do you see what happened though? I had taken God off the throne in my heart and put my own happiness and security there instead.  Really, I was hoping God would be diligent to keep my happiness on His throne.  Share the seat, maybe?  No, our God is a jealous God.  He will not share the throne of our hearts with anyone or anything else.  But our happiness will never be an issue while He is seated there!

It's a tough assignment to tell a hurting woman these things, but I'm so thankful my sister did.  The truth brought about a joyous healing and relief.  Rainbows and flowers and unicorns would have only deepened my pain.

Psalm 81:8-10
Hear, O My people, and I will admonish you;
O Israel, if you would listen to Me!
Let there be no strange god among you;
Nor shall you worship any foreign god.

I, the Lord, am your God,
Who brought you up from the land of Egypt;
Open your mouth wide and I will fill it.

[ P.S. - T has never given me any reason to think he's out chasing hotties, just so you know.  I can't imagine what would account for his answer, except that he's just a guy.  =}  ]

Speaking of Oliver...

So, Oliver has been a big hit in the family.  Everyone loves him.  The boys have forgiven him for not being a German Shepherd or a Husky.  Even Edison, the cat, has come to terms with the interloper now that he's sure Oliver understands his subordinate position.  Oliver is properly cowed by the 9-pound cat thwapping his nose with a de-clawed paw, so all seems good. 

Only one cloud darkens the sky as far as Oliver is concerned, and that involves my youngest daughter, L.  I can't quite put my finger on how it all got started, but L and Oliver butt heads.  For one thing, she's a much more nervous mother than I have ever been, so she jumps and scolds at the first suggestion of misbehavior on Oliver's part.  All he has to do is sniff at a granola wrapper left on the floor, and she's sure he's ready to down the thing in a flash and inconvenience us with a blocked intestine.  Come on, the dog swallowed an athletic sock whole the first week we owned him.  I'll admit, that had me concerned when it happened -- it was down the hatch before we could stop him.  But he passed that thing just fine and hasn't seemed inclined to do it again. So I can't get excited about shredded Kleenex and french fry wrappers.

Taking him for a walk with her in those early days was enough to send me to the doctor for blood pressure medication.  She insisted that this happy ball of puppy energy walk at her pace and not pull on the leash.  Very authoritarian.  Very adamant that he know who was the boss.

I solved that problem by training him to walk well off leash, much more fun for everyone.  We only walk when there are few people out, in the middle of a weekday or at night, so he can dash back and forth at his own pace, sniffing away to his heart's content.  He is nervous about losing us, so the minute he can't hear our feet crunching along behind, he darts back to find us.  He learned quickly to stop at corners and wait to see which way to go.  He waits at my feet until I give him permission to cross streets.  And if I see another person or a dog and call him, he's great about coming back right away.  (He charges back to me and hurls his little body against my legs.  So crazy cute!) 

Somehow I think it has been L's determination to show him who's boss that has set up a bit of a tension between herself and Oliver though.  She annoys him, but she thinks his very status as DOG means he is not allowed to be annoyed, and definitely he is not allowed to show he is annoyed.  He isn't allowed to have preferences.  The minute he dares to "smile" when she touches him, or breath a little loudly (the precursor to a low rumbly growl), she gets more authoritarian and demands he stop.  Moreover, she demands that I make him stop.

I say, "Well, L, you're laying your whole head on his chest while he's resting.  He's not liking that.  He'll stop growling if you stop annoying him."

Or on a car ride with Oliver in her lap, "Well, he doesn't want you poking him every 10 seconds just to get a reaction from him.  He'll stop growling if you stop annoying him."

Or, "Can't you just leave his bone alone?  He'll stop growling if you stop annoying him!"

To which she says, "But he shouldn't be allowed to growl even if he is annoyed!  If he's annoyed he should just get up and walk away."

She's right.  It's tricky.  We can't have a dog think he can growl at a family member under any circumstances, so in that sense she's right that he is not allowed to have preferences.  But at the same time, I think we command more respect from him if we're willing to respect his preferences because we love him.  I can nuzzle him with my whole face while he's resting and he either nuzzles right back or ignores me, but he never growls.  In the same minute, she can do it and he growls.  There's a tension already there between them that he's responding to, and I think she's created it by pushing his buttons on purpose and by being ridiculously authoritarian.

Oliver arrived in our home after having lived 7-months with another family, and we noticed right away that he had certain "sensitivities."  I suspect that these sensitivities were not inborn, but were helped along by the 5-year-old girl in this other family.  Specifically, he cannot abide his tail being touched.  If anyone so much as brushes the fringe of his tail with their feet as they pass by him, he's up like a shot.  And he was nervous about his paws being touched. 

So guess what.  I respect that.  I'm very careful about his tail and his paws.  As it happens, over the year I have worked with him on it.  I'll very gently stroke the fur on his paws, and more lately I'll tease him by taking a bit of paw fur between my thumb and forefinger and giving it a gentle tug. He responds by nibbling or licking my fingers, just enough to say, Hey, I'd prefer you not do that!  He seems to know there's no threat, that it's all in good fun. But I'm careful not to ever squeeze any of his feet.

And like most dogs, he feels protective if we give him a bone.  And he's smart enough to know when he's being teased for fun versus being teased to be made fun of.

So although in general he is a happy little lover, Oliver is not completely issue-less.  He does have "buttons," a few certain preferences, that I feel need to be respected.  L would never squeeze his paws, but she does take a certain delight in pushing his buttons in other ways. She laughs that he gets annoyed, but then gets mad when he ends up growling. 

What is a mother to do????  And more importantly, what will happen when she has kids of her own???  She'd better send them to Grama's house!

[To be fair to L I must add that in general she does have a good relationship with Oliver.  She loves him, although less than her cat, and in general he responds well to her.  They just bicker, like the youngest two children in any family I suppose.]

Charles Spurgeon Devotional

Why do we work so hard to make complicated what is simple?  I read a devotional by Charles Spurgeon this morning and it excited my heart. I've typed it out at the end of this post so you can read it, but the gist of the message is, Jesus loves me.

I'm going to CBS (Community Bible Study) this year, and we're just finishing up a study on the book of Hebrews.  So the question asked us to write out some differences between the covenant of the Old Testament and that of the New Testament.  Of course one of the differences is that the priests of the old covenant had to offer sacrifices repeatedly for sins.  Jesus, on the other hand, offered one sacrifice, Himself, for all sins for all time.  And somehow the words came out of my own mouth to add to the discussion, "It's done.  He has done the work."

How obvious is that?  How many times have I heard that before?  How many years have I taken communion to celebrate that very truth?  And yet when I said it aloud last week, it hit me anew.  It's done.  He has done all the work.  There is nothing left I can contribute to the relationship, except to rejoice and love Him.


How is it that we manage to make this simple, glorious thing hard and burdensome?  I don't memorize verses. (Bad!) I don't pray enough. (Bad!) I don't wake early to have regular quiet times. (Bad!) I am not in a small group.  (Bad!) I am not involved in Christian ministry. (Bad!) I don't share the gospel enough. (Bad!) I don't give time to the prison ministry.  (Bad!)  I don't tutor underprivileged children.  (Bad!)  I don't visit nursing homes. (Bad!)  I overeat. (Bad!) I under-exercise.  (Bad!)  I drink Diet Coke. (Bad!) I eat sugar. (Bad!)  I don't give enough money. (Bad!) I don't keep a budget.  (Bad!) I do use credit cards. (Bad!) I like Harry Potter.  (Bad!)  I listen to deep theological types and I come to understand how deficient I am in my understanding of God, yet my obdurate heart refuses to yield to any broader understanding.  I remain common and stupid. (Bad.)

STOP.  Please stop.  It is finished.  HE has done the work.  Let us rejoice and love Him.

I reread a post I wrote last July called "Beauty."  Wow, was it good! (Did I write that?)  You should go read it!  ;-)  But I ended it with a challenge: do I dare to believe how He loves me?  It will change my life if I allow myself to believe it.  He loves me and He has done all the work to make a way for me to be with Him.  Dare I believe it?  Because that's the whole enchilada.  That's what it's all about.  It's not about how I love Him, it's about how He has loved me. And it's not about how others love Him, it's about how He loves them. If I understand that, everything else, my love for Him, my actions, my understanding, my love for others, will all fall into place of its own accord.

Our pastor, Bob Shirock, spoke on a similar theme this morning at church. One thing he talked about was how we Christians have a well-deserved reputation in the world as harsh, condemning and unloving.  We're known more for what we oppose than Who we support.  As a result, the unchurched of the world have less a problem with Jesus Himself than they do with His people.  (After you read my post, you should go listen to Bob's teaching: oakpointe.org, teaching from February 5, 2012.)

But I would take it even one step further:  not only do we Christians beat up unbelievers, we beat each other up just as soundly.  I'm a believer, and I find Christians hard to be around.  Of course I have Christian friends, a hand chosen, rather select group.  But, sadly, for better or for worse, I've been much happier since I've learned to steer clear of Christians when they collect en masse.

One step further yet?  Many of us beat ourselves up!  What does that tell the world about the attractiveness of Christ?

Where am I going with this? I am only trying to say that all this mess falls away when we remember, it is done.  He has done it all.  Let us celebrate HIM wholly, forget ourselves, and more importantly, forget passing judgment on others.  Again, it's not about how I love Him.  It's all about how He has loved me, and how He continues to love me everyday.

Here is Charles Spurgeon's devotional.  It is wonderful.  Take the time to read it!

The love of the Lord.  ~ Hosea 3:1

Believer, look back through all your experiences and think of the ways in which the Lord your God has led you in the wilderness -- how He has fed and clothed you every day; how He has tolerated your bad manners, put up with all your grumbling and all your longings after Egypt's pot of meat; how He has opened the rock to supply you, and fed you with manna from heaven.  Think of how His grace has been sufficient for you in all your troubles -- how His blood has been a pardon for you in all your sins, how His rod and His staff have comforted you.  When you have thus looked back on the love of the Lord, then let faith survey His love in the future, for remember that Christ's covenant and blood have something more in them than the past.  He who has loved you and pardoned you will never cease to love and pardon.  He is Alpha, and He will be Omega also.  He is first, and He will be last.  Therefore, remember, when you pass through the "valley of the shadow of death" (Ps. 23:4), you need fear no evil, for He is with you.  When you stand in the cold floods of the Jordan, you do not need to fear, for death cannot separate you from His love.  When you come into the mysteries of eternity, you do not need to tremble, "for I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels nor principalities, nor powers nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom. 8:38-39).  Now, soul, is your love not refreshed?  Does this Scripture not make you love Jesus?  Does a flight through the unlimited plains of heavenly love not inflame your heart and compel you to delight yourself in the Lord your God?  Surely as we meditate on "the love of the Lord," our hearts burn within us, and we long to love Him more.