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.       

Love is Kind

In a deep dig to find the true meaning of Love, I was giddy to see Kindness was next up.  Kindness comes so naturally to me.  A smile to a stranger, a door held open, and paying for the next car in line at Starbucks is light and fluffy and oh so simple.  All surface level stuff, though, I realized upon closer look.  Googling Kindness in Scripture, the first hit revealed Don’t Grow Weary in Doing Good.  Have I ever grown weary in being Kind?  For sure. Often. It’s so simple to offer up kindness towards someone that I connect with, a kindred spirit, or someone to admire. BUT. To those I disagree, conflict with, or who grate my soul, there is no kindness to spare.  Notoriously, I withdraw and withhold kindness from those sorts.  It’s not as if I’m blatantly unkind, more like the switch of interaction is turned off all together. They will not receive a glance, a nod, a smile, an ear.  Ouch. Wanting to save the best of me for the best around me, seemed noble at the time.  While I’m in full disclosure, I’ve have often used the ‘don’t cast your pearls before swine’ in a convenient way to curb interaction…so many missed opportunities to be kind. 

Stretching to fit inside this corrected definition of Love, it seems being Kind should include those I’ve distanced.  I’ve known it down deep all along…it’s just so much easier to be selective.  But there’s a more authentic version of Kindness I’m missing.  My mind is screaming ‘I don’t wanna’… what if they don’t receive my kindness, or what if they don’t respond the way I expect?  There’s nothing that says be kind only to those that receive it well.  Kindness leaves me with a satisfied, content, proud vibe and that’s the medicine I want to ingest daily.  How they respond is not my battle. 

A second Google search on Scripture Kindness revealed it’s something that needs to be put on.  Action words here.  Kindness isn’t always a natural, inborn thing.   It’s something which needs to be picked up, dusted off (especially in the case of those I’ve distanced), and thrown on. My kindness cloak clearly needs an upgrade and extension.  

And I thought Kindness would be the easiest. 

Love is Patient

There’s a huge wall hanging at my front entrance that quotes the popular wedding and funeral scripture from Corinthians 13... Love is Patient, Love is Kind.  Oftentimes, I scurry past juggling schedules, scrubbing baseball pants, coordinating events and meals. It whispers to me Be Still, so today I steady myself and let the words flow.  That scripture echoes in my mind as a list of things to achieve, attributes I wish to master…the true definitions of love.  I see it, I hear it, but I don’t often live it.  So I start at the very beginning…

Love is Patient

I don’t feel very patient. I want what I want, when I want it, often a petulant toddler, minus the tantrum.  Mostly internal, the bulk of the battle is played out in my mind and patience is the first to run thin, which is likely why it tops the list.  Patience for others ranks 7 (a small handful rank 2) while patience for self ranges 2-8 depending on the day or the minute.  Patience implies that all things will improve, hope for things not yet seen.  Patience, then, must require a knowing that someone bigger and better than me has every single detail covered and arranged. So, patience is a surrender not a strive. In moments when I require a dragon’s dose of patience, I have to surrender in equal amounts. In real or contrived crisis, I typically surrender, but quickly grab it back.  I got this, I can figure it out, work harder, take deeper breaths, use better words, get more done, research and dig deep. The grabbing and the doing only creating more flurry, even less patience.  Savoring this realization, it dawns on me that either  I question my definition of God or I question His definition of me. No doubt he sees and supports others, but for me He clearly is busy, I am insignificant, invisible.  He has a world of other issues to resolve…I can help by taking care of business.  Looping back, in order to show love as patience, I’ll require a more accurate definition of who God really is and how he sees me in order to surrender and not immediately reclaim the reigns.