faith, life

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

There’s not much to do when the heat index is 105 degrees so we went to a movie, a documentary, actually, about Fred Rogers.  

I loved Mr. Rogers when I was a kid, I watched him everyday.  I credit him for shaping me into the kindhearted individual I am – or at least was. 

To quote Ouiser Boudreaux (Steel Magnolias), “I’m not as sweet as I used to be.”

I loved Mr. Rogers as a kid, but I didn’t realize his brilliance until I sat in that air conditioned movie theater on Saturday.

Mr. Rogers planted a seed deep in my heart which sprouted into a belief that God loves me,  even though he never mentioned God.  In fact, I didn’t know that he was an ordained minister until I was an adult.

All I knew as a kid was that a kind man who cared about kids, who cared about me, was out there and my little-kid brain extrapolated that into believing a kind God, who cares about kids, who cares about me, is out there, too.

We evangelicals of the 80’s and 90’s had it wrong.

Back when I was a fully indoctrinated evangelical, I was taught that God’s name had to be blatantly emblazoned upon a thing in order for it to be “Christian.”

Christian music had to mention His name, repeatedly.

Christian authors were suspect if their writings didn’t include doctrinally approved Christianese.

But then I started to listen to God more closely.  He said He is Love.  He said He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  My adult brain began to extrapolate that to all that is loving, true and life-giving.

A song about forgiveness is a song about God.

A writing that is noble, pure and true is a writing about God.

A movie that spurs me on toward love and good deeds is a movie about God.

On the way home my daughter said, “My favorite part of the movie was when the minister said Fred’s show preached a better sermon than anything you hear from a pulpit.”

Amen.

“Fred’s work,” he said, “was love your neighbor and love yourself. It was a communication right into their hearts.”

Right into my heart.

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

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Alignments

Apparently I blew some minds Sunday morning; completely blew the doors off the place.

That’s what one of the congregants texted our out-of-town pastor after the service:

Well…the way the preacher completely blew the doors off the place talking about todays reading in Genesis is firm proof women should be preaching.

Another commented:

She blew minds.

I don’t know whether he received any negative feedback, but it’s real nice that he shared the positive.  It’s kind of a relief after you’ve blown some minds.

One of the members, who was late to church, told me he was sorry he missed my sermon.  I told him I’d post it for him.

So here it is:

The Lessons Appointed for Use on the Sunday closest to June 8 (track 2):

Genesis 3:8-15
Psalm 130
2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1
Mark 3:20-35

Whenever I walked past my parents’ library as a kid – the room off the front entrance that had shelves and shelves of books – a certain spine would always catch my eye:  Escape from Freedom by Erich Fromm.

Why would anyone want to escape from freedom?, my inquisitive young mind would wonder.  

I finally asked my mom about it.  She explained that the author – a psychologist – theorized that people don’t really want to be free.  It’s too scary for them.  So they escape freedom by putting themselves under the authority of another. That way they no longer have to take responsibility for their lives.  Fromm said individuals do it and whole nations do it.

Ancient Israel did it.

Israel had always been led by prophets and judges.  Samuel, who was both a prophet and a judge, was getting old and ready to retire.  His sons, who would inherit his leadership position, were lame.  So the elders of Israel came to Samuel and said, “You are old and your sons don’t follow your ways; we want you to appoint a king to govern us, like other nations have.” 

Samuel was bummed and a little hurt, but even so he took their request to God.  “Listen to what the people want and don’t be bummed,” God said, “they haven’t rejected you, they’ve rejected me from being king over them, just as they have from the day I brought them up out of Egypt. Listen to them and let them have what they want, but solemnly warn them. Tell them what it will be like to live under an earthly king.”

So Samuel told them they could have a king if they really wanted one, but, he warned, “He will reign over you and make you do his bidding: he will make your sons run in front of his chariots and many of them will be crushed; he will force some to be commanders, he will use some to work his fields and make his weapons. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his cronies. He’ll take one-tenth of your grain and wine and give that to his cronies, too. Basically, he’ll make you his slaves. And when he does, you’ll cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord is not going to listen to you. You will have to lie in the bed you made.”

The people didn’t care, they wanted what they wanted. They were determined to be like other nations – with a king to govern them and fight their battles.

So Saul was appointed king.

And all that Samuel warned would happen, did happen.

The lesson:  Be careful what you wish for.  Be careful what you stubbornly insist upon. And trust God to fight your battles.

That passage from 1 Samuel 8 was the track 1 lectionary reading for today.  I thought it was the one we were doing until the June schedule showed up in my inbox last week.  But it’s okay because the story in 1 Samuel 8 ties in nicely with Genesis 3, especially if we read to the end of the chapter.

Adam and Eve heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the evening and they hid. The Lord called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard You in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; so I hid.” 

The knowledge they thought they wanted, the knowledge they thought was going to make them more like God, the knowledge they had to disobey God to get, didn’t turn out to be so great.  All it did was make them afraid – an emotion they had never felt before.

“Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” 

Now listen carefully to what the man said in reply, “The woman you gave me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate.” 

Did you hear how Adam blamed God for his sin and threw Eve under the bus?

Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent tricked me, and I ate.”

Eve blamed the serpent. 

And because Eve called the serpent out, there is – to this day – enmity between the him and the woman, just as God said there would be.

“The Lord God said to the serpent,
‘Because you have done this, (God and Eve were in agreement on who was to blame)
upon your belly you shall go,
and eat dust
all the days of your life.
I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and hers;’”

The Septuagint uses “hatred” rather than “enmity”.  

“I will put hatred between you and the woman…”

Given the current sex slave industry and the long history of abuses against women, I think hatred is pretty accurate.  The enemy hates women. He is holding an insidiously long and bitter grudge against us. 

Because Eve aligned herself with God by blaming the serpent and Adam aligned himself with the serpent by accusing God, God did something that often gets overlooked:  

(I’m about to blow some minds here. I’m about to say the sort of thing that got Jesus in trouble in today’s gospel reading. Ready?)

He booted Adam from the garden, but He may not have booted Eve.

Listen closely to the rest of the chapter and see if you agree:

“The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them. And the Lord God said, “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.” So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken.  After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life.”

Let me read that again because the actual reading of Scripture might be challenging what you’ve always been taught:

“The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them (plural pronoun.) And the Lord God said, “The man [singular noun] has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He [singular pronoun – not “they”] must not be allowed to reach out his hand [singular – his hand, not their hands] and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.” So the Lord God banished him [singular] from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken.  After he drove the man [singular] out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life.”

See what I mean? The man was booted, the woman was not. 

Which means she left voluntarily,

and that sheds light on what God said would be her consequences:

“To the woman He said,
‘I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;
with painful labor you will give birth to children.
Your desire will be for your husband,
and he will rule over you.”

Some use this passage to teach that God commanded man to rule over woman.

But God wasn’t talking to the man, he was talking to the woman.

And He wasn’t giving a command, He was giving a warning.

The word translated desire is t@shuwqah (tesh-oo-kaw’), which originally means “to stretch out after” or “to turn to”

God was saying, “If you stretch out your arms after your husband, if you turn to him and away from me, if you align yourself with him, if you make him your king, he will rule over you.

If you make man your king he will rule over you.

It was a prophetic warning, not a punitive command. 

It’s like the prophetic warning Samuel gave the Israelites: If you insist on a king other than God, you’re going to be miserable.

Perhaps Eve wanted a companion with skin on, or perhaps she wanted to escape the responsibility of taking care of herself or perhaps she just wanted a husband.   Whatever the reason, she voluntarily escaped paradise to chase after her man. And she certainly suffered pains in childbearing.

Child-bearing and child-rearing, because her pains extended way beyond labor.

One of her kids took after her and yielded to God and one took after his dad and rebelled against God and in the very next chapter Cain murdered Abel.  

Child-rearing doesn’t get more painful than that.                                                                              

So let’s recap, Adam aligned himself with the serpent and got himself booted, Eve aligned herself with Adam and she was out, too.

The lesson: As long as man tries to rule over woman and woman tries to make man her king, relationships will never be what God intended them to be.

It’s all about alignments.  

Which brings us to our gospel reading:

Jesus entered a house, and again a crowd gathered, so that he and his disciples were not even able to eat.

When His people heard about the stir He was creating, they went to take custody of Him saying He had lost His senses.

The temple leadership even came from Jerusalem and declared, “He has aligned Himself with Beelzebul.” 

Jesus replied by saying, “That doesn’t even make sense, “How can Satan drive out Satan?”

“Truly I tell you,” He continued, “people can be forgiven all their sins and every slander they utter, but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; they are guilty of an eternal sin.”

He said this because they were saying, “He has an impure spirit.” 

We all know that blaspheme against the Spirit is the only unforgivable sin, but have you ever thought through why?

Strong’s definition of blaspheme is:  “to speak reproachfully, rail at, revile, make false and defamatory statements about…”.

When Jesus was on trial, and while he was on the cross, people mocked Him and hurled all kinds of abuse at Him.  And He said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  (Luke 23:34)  

You can hurl insults at Jesus out of ignorance and then, when you come to your senses, you can humbly ask for forgiveness, confessing that you did not know what you were talking about.  And you will be forgiven.

But you can’t make false and defamatory statements against the Holy Spirit and be forgiven.  

Here’s why:  

When Jesus lived among us, He limited Himself to doing only what we can do.  Because He limited His power, it is understandable that people might not have understood who He was.  But, when the Holy Spirit reveals Jesus to us, He does so with the full, unlimited power of heaven.  He is quite capable of making Himself clear.  Therefore, anyone who rails against the Holy Spirit knows what they are doing.  Their blaspheme is not out of ignorance, it is out of pride.   And pride is the one sin that cannot be forgiven because forgiveness requires the humility to ask for it and pride won’t ask.

So the religious leaders came and blasphemed the Spirit and then Jesus’ mother and brothers arrived on the scene. 

Standing outside, they sent someone in to call him.

A crowd was sitting around him, and they told him, “Your mother and brothers are outside looking for you.”

“Who are my mother and my brothers?” he asked.

Then he looked at those seated in a circle around him and said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

It’s all about alignments.

You can put your trust in politicians or you can make God your king.

You can continue to walk with God in the cool of the evening and wait for a man after His own heart, or you can flee paradise in pursuit of the only man in sight.

You can align yourself with the religious establishment, keep them happy by toeing the doctrinal line, you can keep your mouth shut about God and keep your family and friends happy, or you can align yourself with those who do God’s will. 

The Israelites aligned themselves with a secular, political king and ended up exploited and enslaved.

Eve aligned herself with the only man in town and ended up living east of Eden, forever unequally yoked.

Jesus aligned Himself with His Father, His mission and with those who are not ashamed of the gospel and saved our sorry souls.

Today’s Scriptures beg some questions we can all ask ourselves:

To what or whom am I looking for security?

Whom/what am I chasing?

With whom am I most closely aligned?

I wait for the Lord; my soul waits for him; 
in his word is my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord,
more than watchmen for the morning, 
more than watchmen for the morning.

Amen.

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Low & Mighty on Passover Eve

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Exodus chapter 12 describes, well, the exodus, the mass departure of the Israelites from Egypt.  On the night they were to leave God instructed them to roast a lamb and eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. They were to eat in haste with their loins girded, sandals on their feet and staff in hand.

“This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.”

And so it is that the Passover is celebrated faithfully, year after year.

In the 13th chapter of the Gospel of John we learn that the Last Supper took place before the festival of the Passover.  It was Passover Eve.  Not Christmas dinner, but Christmas Eve dinner.  The rehearsal dinner, not the actual wedding banquet. The Last Supper was not the actual Passover Seder, it was the night before.

John’s gospel tells us a few more things about that evening:

  1. Jesus was aware that He would soon be returning to His Father.
  2. He was aware that each and every one of His dinner companions had been given into His hands.  That’s what the phrase, “knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands” means.  “All things” is better translated as “each and every one.” Each and every one of them was gifted to Him, even Judas.
  3. He loved His charges with an agape  love. One aspect of agape is “to be full of good-will toward.”

And so it was with love and good will that Jesus sat down to His last human supper.

In Chinese culture, jade symbolizes nobility, perfection, constancy, and immortality. It is viewed as the most valuable of all precious stones.

A Chinese boy set out to learn all about it. He went to study with a talented old teacher.  The old gentleman put a piece of the stone into the youth’s hand and told him to hold it tight.  Then he began to talk of philosophy, men, women, the sun and almost everything under it.  After an hour the teacher took back the stone and sent the boy home.  This procedure was repeated for weeks. Finally the boy became frustrated – when would he be told about the heavenly properties of jade?! – but he was too polite to interrupt his venerable teacher.  So he held the stone and listened. Again and again. Then one day, when the old man began their lesson by pressing a stone in the boy’s hand, the boy cried out instantly, “Hey wait! That’s not jade!”

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself.” (italics added)

It seems out of place, that third sentence, “The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him,” since John doesn’t speak again of Judas until later in the chapter, but it isn’t out of place, it’s the reason Jesus got up from the table.

He knew He was about to be betrayed, He knew human nature full well. Perhaps at that moment He remembered back to the disciples’ argument about which of them was the greatest, perhaps He remembered all the way back to when Adam and Eve disobeyed so they could be like God, perhaps He remembered even further back to when Satan wanted to be greater than God. He may have also looked ahead to all the ways evil men would infiltrate the church and exploit Him for selfish gain.

It was His awareness of our propensity to competition, our desire to be “better than” that got Him up from that table.   It’s what caused Him to take off his outer robe, tie a towel around his waist, pour water into a basin and press a precious stone into His disciples’ hands one more time.

So they would remember what He feels like.

You know the foot washing story and you know Peter. When Jesus got to his ten piggies, Peter said, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

In other words, “You’re too good to wash my feet!”

Jesus answered, “You don’t get it yet, but you will.”

Peter insisted, “You will never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”

And so Peter, being Peter, said, “In that case, wash all of me!”

So Jesus laid it out for him. Again.

“One who has bathed does not need to wash.”

Wash and bathe in this passage are separate greek words.

“Wash” is nipto – to cleanse (especially the hands or the feet or the face); ceremonially.

It was customary back then – as it is now – to wash their hands before a meal.

“Bathe” is “louo,” it is a word used in the context of washing a dead person or cleaning blood from a wound.

Peter was already bathed as a dead person when he was baptized, when he was crucified with Christ and raised to new life.  He never needed to be bathed in that way again.  Just as a person doesn’t need to keep going forward at every altar call.  Once is enough.

All of the disciples had been bathed in the waters of baptism, except one. Scripture doesn’t tell us how and when Judas was called to follow Jesus, but it is telling us right here that he was never baptized, never raised to new life.  Even so,  Jesus loved each and every one of the 12 His Father had given Him.

“So Peter,” Jesus was saying, “zealous, enthusiastic Peter, you don’t need to be bathed, you only need to be washed.  Bathing is for souls, washing is for feet.  Feet that get dusty trodding through this sin-filled world.”

If we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive them and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

Our souls need to be bathed only once – through the water of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit – it’s our bodies and minds that need daily cleansing from the stink of sin.

After Jesus washed their feet, put back on his robe and returned to the table, He asked:

“Do you get it?

I just pressed something important into the palms of your hands.

I’m not too good to wash feet and neither are you.

Peter had it backwards. It’s not a matter of being too good, too high and mighty; it’s a matter of being good enough, of being low and mighty.

Servants are not greater than their master, so if I’m good enough to wash feet, then you be good enough, too.

Once you understand this concept, and do it, you will go through life blessed.

Isaiah said so, too: ‘take care of one another and then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your healing shall spring up quickly;…

The Lord will guide you continually,

and satisfy your needs in parched places,

and make your bones strong;

and you shall be like a watered garden,’

Take care of one another and you will flourish.”

As someone who is chronically dehydrated and has osteoporosis, I like Isaiah’s wording – strong bones, well-watered….

Be low and mighty enough to serve others and you’ll like your life.

The lectionary for Maundy Thursday (you’re reading the homily I gave last night) skipped over the details of Judas’s departure, but you know how it went down. It picked up again at verse 31:

“When [Judas] had gone out, Jesus said, ‘Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.'”

Judas’s departure set Jesus’ finest hour in motion.

His finest hour as a man – enduring physical and emotional abuse, bearing false accusations silently, as a sheep before its shearer.

I watched a tribute to Andrew Lloyd Webber Wednesday night.  At the end of it,  John Legend, who will play Jesus in Sunday night’s live presentation of Jesus Christ Superstar, asked Andrew for advice on playing the role.

“It’s all about redemption after all,” Andrew replied.

John mentioned the angst and fear and doubt Jesus experienced as He faced the cross.

“And yet He went through with it,” Andrew replied.

“Yes,”  John smiled slightly, “He went through with it.”

He was glorified as the Son of Man by going through with it.  By laying down his life for his friends – there’s no love greater than that.

His finest hour as God was defeating sin and death, which no man can do.

His Father’s finest hour? Showing a restraint in the face of His Son’s suffering the strength of which no human father could match.

John didn’t mention the bread and the cup in his account of the Last Supper, but our epistle reading from 1 Corinthians 11 did.

“…the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”

The Passover feast was a perpetual ordinance for God’s people to remember their deliverance from the physical bondage of slavery.

And now a new perpetual ordinance has been instituted, to remember our spiritual deliverance from bondage to sin and death.

My body broken for you. My blood shed for you, because without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.

Jesus, Our Passover Lamb.

Our gospel reading ends with a precious plea:

Little children, I am with you only a little longer.

At my church the children come forward and crowd in the aisle between the rows of pews for “The Lamb’s Liturgy.” The pastor gives a brief lesson and then touches each of their heads and blesses them before they head off to Sunday school. It’s my favorite part of the service. I love to see them walk back down the aisle, their little heads blessed, their faces Hopeful, expectant that the future has good things for them.

The tenderness with which the pastor blesses our children is the tenderness with which Jesus beheld those at the table, on the eve of His great suffering:   “Little children, dear ones, my charges, my responsibility, my baby chicks, my friends…

I’m leaving and you can’t come with me.

So just love one another.

By this everyone will know that I taught you well, if you love one another.

By this my Father and I will be glorified.

By this our strength will be shown.

Because no one can live low and mighty apart from us.”

Amen.

#betrayed

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faith, the friends

Doxology

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

If you know anything about Dixie, you know that she was diagnosed with colon cancer in February.

If you don’t know anything about her, it’s time to catch up:

There is no remedy for love but to love more.

We’re Not Just Whistling Dixie

One minute you’re getting your face bit off and the next minute you’re living in Hintzville.

Is this my new calling? ‘Cuz I’m gonna’ need superhuman strength.

Big Love & Fruit that Lasts

Stuck in the Kitchen Again…

McDonald’s has its pink slime, I have purple.

When I last wrote about my friend, I was cooking like her life depended on it.

And wondering whether she would be incontinent forever.

But then the blessings began to flow on two creatures here below.

On a little beagle and me.

Dixie is now pooping like a champ – well, almost like a champ. And that is a huge blessing right there.

But there’s more.

Wednesday morning I took her for the 4th of 6 chemo treatments – each 3 weeks apart.  As per the protocol, her oncologist did an ultrasound and some chest x-rays prior to the treatment to make sure the treatments have been working.  If not, he’d switch to something else.

The ultrasound results?

There is no sign of recurrence in her bowels or lymph nodes – lymph nodes are all of normal size.

The doc said a radiologist would look at her chest x-rays to confirm but he saw nothing obvious on them.

So he proceeded with injection number four.

And then yesterday his assistant called with the radiologist’s findings:

Her lungs are completely clear!

Good food, exercise and chemo are keeping the cancer at bay.

And Love. Lots of Love.

Love is healing her.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow…

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Stopping to smell the roses after this morning’s happy walk.

She’ll get the final two injections and then she’ll be monitored from there.

Hopefully for many happy, healthy years to come…

#grateful #hopeful

 

 

 

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faith, love, the friends

Barely Breathing

Be’s ashes arrived about an hour ago.  The young man who delivered them to my front door was very kind. As soon as he left, I hugged the little wooden box to my heart and sobbed. I told Be all the things I’ve said to her many times since her diagnosis but also things I wished I had said yesterday.  I wished I had looked her in her bright little eyes and said that I was so sorry to have to say goodbye, that I didn’t want to say goodbye.

The emergency room ultrasound showed a lung had collapsed on one side and fluid was building in her chest cavity on the other side.  Eight days earlier another emergency doc had tapped 600 ml of fluid from her chest.  For six days we marveled at how well she was doing. But Monday she started showing signs that the fluid was building again.

But she never lost her appetite. Yesterday she jumped and twirled when I set down her breakfast bowl. She enthusiastically gobbled it down and then stood at the kitchen island watching me separate meat from bones to make broth.  She stood there as she did whenever I made her bone broth, confident that I would hand her a morsel or two.

I put the bones back into the crock pot, covered them with water, ground the meat and started to load the dishwasher.

That’s when she started panting. That’s when she came back into the kitchen to get me.  She often lead me into the family room to sit with her.  But this time she lead me to the door that leads to the garage. She just stood there as though she was asking to go to the hospital. I called the hub. I called emergency to let them know we were coming.  They were ready with oxygen when we arrived.

The doc said she could tap the fluid again but that it would probably fill up quicker this time – in 2 days rather than 8.  That’s typically the way it goes.

And before I could say anything, my husband said, “No, it’s time to let her go.”

And that made me cry.  And it made me a little deep down mad.

A tech brought Be into the examining room, catheter already in her arm, laid her gently on the table and plugged an oxygen tube into the wall in front of it. She said she’d give us a few minutes to say goodbye. Be’s breathing was labored, even holding oxygen to her nose, and I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable one second longer than necessary. So we had the doc come in right away.

I wish I had taken just a moment though.

I wish I had turned her gently around or slid her a little back so I was in front of her – so she could see me – instead of being behind her.   I was right there hovering over her, stroking her head. My husband was behind me stroking her back. I wish I had been where she could see me.  I wish I had scooped her up and held her after she was gone. I wish I had driven her to the crematorium myself – one last labor of love.  So many regrets. It all happened so quickly.  I wish I had prayed when she was on the table and not just in the car on the way to emergency. I wish I had blessed her one last time, asked God into the room.  I wish I had asked to hold her on my lap while she was getting the injections…

She laid her head down on the table and was asleep before the doc finished pushing the propofol into the cath. Her breathing stopped midway through the injection of the second drug – the euthanasia drug. No twitching, no nothing, just asleep and then quietly gone in less than a minute.

So I hugged the box containing her ashes and sobbed and told her all those things and it was cathartic.  I’m still sobbing and it still hurts and it is pouring rain again.

It hurts so much I can barely breathe.

The turkey bone broth is still simmering in the crock pot, its heartbreaking aroma permeating the house.

Someday, when I step into heaven, Lucybee, the beloved friend I lost three years ago, will run full speed to greet me.  But the little Be will come quietly: she’ll tiptoe up, peek her head around the gate, look up at me with her sweet little face, cock her head and then wag, wag, wag her happy little tail.

Some glorious day.

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#someday

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Calm, Bright, Holy Beagle

It was not my usual week-before-Christmas.

Monday, instead of baking and sampling, I was fasting and prepping for Tuesday’s colonoscopy.  It’s not ideal to schedule a colonoscopy the week before Christmas, but it had already been rescheduled twice… The good news is I passed with flying colors. Doc says I don’t have to “Golytely” again for another ten years. Misnomer that.

All is Calm, All is Bright

Wednesday, instead of shopping, I was sitting on a folded quilt on the floor of the veterinary oncologist’s exam room with my back against the wall.  The little beagle lay on her side beside me, head on my lap. A mild, pleasantly soothing incense wafted through the air, mingled with the gentle music playing beside it. I stroked her soft little head and spoke quietly to her as she lay still for the twenty minutes the acupuncture needles needed to do their thing.

“It’s worth it little Be,” I whispered, as I stroked the side of her face, “they are stimulating your immune system and helping to clear the lung congestion.”

She lay perfectly still. Completely calm. Not a single needle fell out this time. What a sweet little love.

Acupuncture needles in place of pine needles.

She has been doing so well – her eyes clear and bright, her energy high – that I was starting to imagine her a medical miracle.

And then Thursday she started coughing. Really coughing. She coughed up a hunk of tissue and what looked like a blood clot.

Silent Night, Holy Night.

So Friday she went back on an antibiotic.

She’s sleeping a lot now, her little body battling pneumonia. So last night, while she slept, I broiled filet Mignon, mashed sweet potatoes and sauteed Brussels sprouts. And then my daughter and the hub went to the 10 pm Candlelight Service while I stayed home with our friends.

I was going to have our own little silent night, holy night – just me, the hound and the beagle. I was going to read them the Christmas story. I was going to tell them what Jesus said about not a single sparrow falling from the sky apart from the Father’s care. I was going to read them the story Nathan told David and explain that God considers pets members of the family, too.

“but the poor man had nothing except one little ewe lamb he had bought. He raised it, and it grew up with him and his children. It shared his food, drank from his cup and even slept in his arms. It was like a daughter to him.”

God had no problem with the way the poor man lovingly cared for his lamb, but He certainly had a problem with the way the rich man treated her as property.

I was going to say, “God loves and cares for all of the creatures He created, guys, and He loves you even more than I do.”

We were going to have our own holy moment while the rest of the family was at church.

But the night turned out to be more silent than holy. The beagle’s breathing was labored as she slept on the sofa beside me. I didn’t want to disturb her by reading aloud. I knew she’d try to respond to the sound of my voice and she needed rest more than anything else.

So I scrolled silently and came upon this from Muddy Boots Manor:

A precious telling of the Christmas story. I think the hound was listening as he lay awake on the floor nearby. The beagle slept through most of it – awaking only briefly and raising her head to see who was talking. Then she drifted back off to sleep.

Now it’s Sunday. Christmas Day.

When my daughter wakes up I’ll make pancakes. I’ll embellish the maple syrup with minced figs, dates and walnuts because on Tuesday the recovery nurse handed me a brochure with a list of high fiber foods and dried figs was at the top.

We’ll open gifts and then I’ll make stuffed mushrooms and a mushroom pate for the hub and the daughter to take with them to the family gathering.

I’ll miss out on some amazing food, but Christmas, it turns out, is not about beautifully set tables and skillfully prepared feasts.

It’s about giving presence to a sick little friend.

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The hound – 96 in dog years – wants extra presence himself these days.

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I did take time to do some fancy wrapping this week.

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Merry Christmas everyone!

#anewkindoffestive

 

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