Battle of Gratitude

In the presence of a dear friend, wave after wave of good news, hard fought goals now realized, freedom and celebration just within reach, the inner option to spiral into despair was only a breath away. Smelling its bitter breath and biting words: you’ll never succeed, her life is so much better, she’s so much more organized and driven, you aren’t working as hard… the battle required a quick pivot from desperation to inspiration. Choosing instead to soak in the positive truths, I sought gratitude: Grateful that hard work produced sweet rewards, grateful for children finding their way, grateful to have such a big-hearted, creative and inspiring friend, grateful for stolen moments to sip tea together. 

The easy option to remain in neutral allowing the dark untruths to take root, shifting to gratitude takes work. It seems whatever you focus on builds upon itself, good or bad, I prefer good. But good isn’t easy.  Good takes work. Some days, the only gratitude I can muster is the toothpaste on my brush… but it builds. Slowly at first, but then… gratitude for the minty taste, clean teeth, a fresh morning kiss, a husband that loves me, a new day, fresh possibilities, food in the pantry, a warm breakfast tea, the perfect mug, a flitting cardinal against grey trees, the sound of the washer, clean clothes, new adventures, a dog that takes quick cold-day pees, warm house, electric, a functional heater,  working from home, flexibility, avocado toast, a second cup of tea with a friend. Building and building until there’s no room for self-doubt, fear, and despair.

Despair now departed, listening with a grateful heart, newly inspired by my rewarded friend. 

Quietly sipping and smiling, today’s battle of gratitude silently won.

Deep Dog Thoughts

Even this non-dog person is noticing a shift in perspective in the company of dogs. During the simple process of daily care, important life lessons are being taught.   

 One… needs are revealed if you simply pay attention.  Charlie will request in dog speak his necessary potty breaks. Bernadine, however, nervously paces.  Often deep in thought or activity, I can easily overlook the speak or the pace and accidents happen.  Being more in the moment instead of far, far away, distracted, I would see the signs, hear the clues and take the proper next best step.  It’s more important to be present, alert and watch for the signs. 

Two… allow margin for the unexpected.  Odds are when lip gloss is applied, hair is perfect, the no-grass shoes are on and I’m ready to leave, dogs will have to go outside.  Best laid plans will often twist at the last moment. Change the shoes, grab the umbrella and out we go.  If I allowed a few extra minutes for the unexpected I wouldn’t feel rushed. 

Which leads me to three… you can’t rush things. Charlie has a routine, a sniff path that must be followed and no amount of rushing can speed the circuit. He’s gathering all the important data…who’s been here, what’s that smell, eat some grass, sniff old piles, tree, mailbox, fire hydrant. Like an old man and his paper over the morning coffee, things simply can’t be rushed. Frantic rush may arise, but neither dog responds… urges to hurry fall on deaf doggy ears. Life takes just the right amount of time and no amount of rushing will change the pace.

Lastly, and most weighty… love is unconditional.  Neither the contents of my day nor the fickle nature of my moods seem to change the depth of doggy love. Greeting me at the door, happy tails wagging, ready to lick and lean, they love with a love that isn’t often found in humans. Mistakes are never held against me, quickly forgotten with a belly rub or a back scratch.  

If I’m paying true attention, present and unrushed, there is much to learn from dogs. How to love, keeping it simple, take care of important stuff first, rest when needed… furry four-legged instructors, a coincidence dog backwards is God?

When the Heart Speaks

Hours into writing with nothing to show for it, frustrated. That evil inner dictator whispers you’re no writer, no comparison to my skilled writing friend, you should just pitch it. Scrap. It’s nothing.

What will you have me do next, Lord? Write. Ugg. I’ve tried with no luck.  Do it again.

Knowing others read what bubbles up often guards my words, filters my Christ-speak, tapping out what I think others will want to hear. The deeper truth is that when the heart speaks, the real connection happens. Soul echoes, now free, always seem to land where needed the most.  For that reason alone, I write.  Sharing fears, thoughts, experiences, for the sheer action of it, letting it free to find that soul in need.  Positive motion in the best possible and most authentic way I know, with true confidence that it finds where it should ultimately land.

No longer comparing, no longer filtered, obediently tapping, the inner dictator succumbed, now silent. I spill it out, now set free, ready to be filled again.

The Good Stuff

Writing is my workout. 

It stretches and pulls my mind and heart in directions I wouldn’t willingly travel. It reveals garbage and replaces it with gold. The silly things that distract prefer to keep me numb and dumb, but when I sit still, quiet my mind and start moving over the keys, something shifts. Wisdom perches so fragile, content to join the party. I just need to be still….breathe…and listen.  The busy will come, but for now, I chill and I wait for the good stuff. In this space, I surrender the fight.  I needn’t work so hard, I needn’t let the busy distract. 

I simply need to be still. 

Not lazy, but still.  Still within the work, still is the work, still in my heart when the worry creeps near, still when I don’t understand.  I complicate it with busy, pointless distractions.  I fight the good stuff like a toddler with overcooked broccoli.  But here…when I’m tapping the keys, being still, the good stuff bubbles forth. 

For The Love of Dogs

I don’t even love dogs.

Let me start by saying I have a dog, Charlie, a Puggle.  I like him.  We rescued him from the York SPCA to provide the dog/childhood experience.  Tim grew up with a dog in the house, but my history with dogs involved gnarly German Shepherds behind a fence and the strong caution to stay far away. 

So when Cara asked me to join her on a dog shelter / book tour road trip for her new book Another Good Dog, my first thoughts weren't dogs.  Instead, they were:  1) I’d love a distraction from dropping my first born at college and 2) I’d love the rare opportunity to get two busy friends together in a vehicle for 7 days.   Add in my strong affinity to surround myself with passion-driven women, I was in. 

Immediately falling into the personal assistant role of tweeting, posting, and tagging, our first event was super easy, a dog-centric festival in downtown Arlington, Va.  Dogs everywhere you looked, small dogs, large dogs, even a dog that looked like Charlie.  Dogs with loving owners that carried them in totebags, snuggies, and baby carriages, clearly loved and adored.

And then came the other dogs.

The next day, we visited our first shelter, Lenoir County SPCA.  Girding my heart the best I could, the tears spewed out with zero warning. Dogs everywhere with no loving owners. No sweet bowtie collars, no perfect grooming.  Cold cages, concrete floors.  A small staff of women working tirelessly to clean and heal but the incoming exceeded the outgoing quickly creating maximum capacity.

There’s a quote I live by: When you know better, you do better.  You can’t un-see some of the things we saw or un-hear some of the stories told. Dropping off dogs to a kill shelter while families went on vacation knowing full well their dog would be killed.  Returning from vaca to find the family pup euthanized and leaving with a kitten instead.  I witnessed Cara transform into Superwoman on this trip.  A soul-stirring occurred that couldn’t be settled.  Reaching out immediately for community help,  it came in spades. Friends shipped much needed supplies to desperate shelters while volunteers rose up and fostered dogs.

Powerful truths witnessed:

1)      A handful of people, bonded together under one cause, can make a huge difference.

2)      Technology can be used for the Power of Good.

3)      Understanding a problem is one thing, actually doing something is altogether better.

4)      Dogs can undoubtedly see the depths of your soul.

5)      Never underestimate the power of a fired-up-woman.

6)      For every bad, there are many good people doing many good things.

7)      Sometimes you have to look hard for the good people doing good things.

8)      A sweet treat, delivered with love, can soothe the soul... as well as the pup.

9)      Eventually, you are rewarded for your hard work.

10)  Never, ever, ever, ever give up.

Lots to ponder during the long trip home…what’s my own personal passion?  What fires me up?  Which Good is most in need? Should we become a foster dog family?

One thing was for certain, Like transformed to Love towards Charlie.   

Check out the all the road trip details here:  Another Good Dog 

Buy the book because it's amazing, here:  Another Good Dog Book

 

Built for This

She’s been built for this moment.  Shifting into neutral, hugging the wall until she spoke directions…hang the clothing, open this box, fold the towels, letting her take the lead.  She stepped right into the position as if it were custom built for her. It was.  She came into this world an old soul… twenty years old on day one. So my soul was at peace amidst the drastic change.  It was, however, the little things that made me crumble.  All moved in, the college conveniently organized back to back freshmen events, leaving parents to explore and wander separate from their babes, ripping the band-aid off quickly.  

Away from her, I cried. Failed attempt after attempt to craft the perfect sloppy top bun left me looking and feeling lop-sided.  She always artfully twisted my hair in seemingly the simplest ways. Her favorite songs playing in the hotel lobby…who will keep me current with the freshest tunes? Feeling quite selfish, shifting instead to the growth and memories she has already begun to experience.

This must be what true love is all about…loving someone so much that it breaks your fragile heart to part, but realizing they are so much better for the distance all the same. 

A peaceful separation, no gushes of tears, no dramatic scenes… just singular awareness: no longer a need to leave the light on, an empty bedroom, one less head to count at bedtime.  Go and grow, sweet girl.

Obedient in the Do.

Not quite knowing where to start, I begin to hit the keys in the motion of writing until the words begin to flow.  Sometimes that’s how all the best things seem to start…a brave foot forward not knowing the end result.  Giving God something to work with, a tiny seed that can grow into something all together different. So I quietly tap each key until the black curves form words and the clustered words form sentences and the sentences garner thought, imagination, ideas, creativity, inspiration, guidance.  But the most important motion is the decision to Do.  Status quo would be maintained without the Do.  Nothing changes without the Do.  The giving up transferred to giving in…a sweet surrender to knowing I’ll be met halfway as long as a bravely Do.  I don’t have all the answers, I certainly don’t know where each step will lead, but I’ll clearly never know if I never Do.  So,  I carve quiet moments out of my day…sitting in the car with the door cracked open, soft breeze on my toes, waiting for Cole to finish baseball practice.  Open the laptop and begin to hit the keys.  Obedient in the Do.