Big Mistake-Big Forgiveness

I've got this puppy, see? His name is Teddy.

He's a floppy, clumsy, adorable mess of fur and slobber.

When I'm not looking he sneaks up to me and sits on my feet or lays down behind my chair. He doesn't like to be without his hoomans.

I'm humbled by his unwavering trust and pure joy in being with us.

Said humility was never so great as when housetraining this canine.

Teddy seemed to pick certain places to 'express himself.' Not one to be haphazard about his choice of pooping places, he would secretly secrete in a secret setting.

We tried the newfangled method of gently coaxing him outside and scolding him in love. We tried the sitting outside with him after a big meal and waiting for the 'end result.'

But no matter what we did, he still seemed to have this favorite spot to squat. Namely, under my desk in my home office. It was frustrating and I was sooo over this ball of cuteness thinking our carpet was his latrine.

And he always looked so innocent when I'd scold him; those big doggy eyes tried to melt my heart but I was unmoved...almost.

But one day I'd had enough. I found another jewel under the desk and decided to go all old school on the mutt.

I grabbed him by the collar, drug him into the office and rubbed his nose in the offending grossness. Then I pushed him outside to think about it for a while.

He was lucky I didn't ask him for an essay on the topic, "Why I shouldn't poop on Mommy's carpet."

So although I felt bad about the rough treatment I decided I'd done what I had to do. While Teddy was outside I went back to my office to continue working.

As I sat there, I noticed a strange sound and an even stranger aroma. I sniffed a sniff I'd hoped I'd never sniff again.

I was beyond mad. How stupid IS this dog? I slowly turned around to catch him in the act. With his pants down, as it were.

Except it weren't him.

It was our cat Shashe, who was obviously making a statement about us moving her litter box out to the garage. She looked at me and I looked at her.

And she ran.

But I felt sick. Not because of the offense; heck, I've had children and was no stranger to icky messes.

No, I felt sick because I had unjustly punished Teddy for what Shashe had done. I'd rubbed his nose in a substance that was not his, spanked him for it, yelled at him and pushed him outside.

I could barely look at him. How do you apologize to a dog? I mean, you can't take him out for a soda. You can't buy him an ipod or a skateboard. How could I make it up to him for being so unfair? I forced myself to walk outside to try to comfort Teddy, and to comfort myself.

He was looking at me. His head was cocked in curiousity and concern. For me.
As I walked up to him his tail began wagging, slowly at first, but then furously as he realized I was coming up to pet him and hold him.

I could see immediately that he held no grudges for being spanked. His thoughts and focus was on ME and how much fun he wanted to have with ME.
I knew right then I had experienced big forgiveness.

Let me challenge you with my story. Think about your hurt and anger when things don't go the way they should and you are treated unfairly. Try to consider that all the facts aren't revealed, that the truth will be discovered in time.

Oh,and never trust a cat.

True Relationships

Hey Everyone!

So far the sabbatical has been successful although it has taken me two weeks to feel relaxed.
I hadn't realized how wound up I really was until I was challenged to unwind.

Now that I'm becoming more lucid, I've been more aware of the meaningful people in my life.

I know it's always a challenge for someone to know what to do when a friend needs to chill out.

Do you walk alongside them and provide quality time or just leave them alone to fend for themselves?

I'm grateful that my friends have given me the attention or lack of attention I've needed so far.


The other day I was really down and overwhelmed. Tunnel-visioned frustrated.

You've all been there.

At the end of the day I received an email from a dear lady I've known most of my life. The email was a blessing note to tell me how much my writing has meant to her. It was like a soothing balm on an open wound.

I can't tell you how much that meant to me.

It made me analyze who was meaningful in my life and who just...wasn't.

Of course, my family ranks #1 (I'm supposed to say God does but I'm referring to the flesh and blood messy stuff).
I don't know what I'd do without my crew telling me when I'm being ridiculous (most of the time)or that they love me even if I do then to fall down a lot.

Then there are those friends who, over time, have shown themselves to be loyal,bossy, supportive and truth-telling even if I don't ask for their advice.

I've also noticed that those who are dearest in my life have been around for at least five years. Some have been present for well over ten years and some waaay longer.

If they'd been in the military most of them would have been able to retire with a great pension by now.

Some of them would have many purple hearts and a few would have at least five stars on their uniforms.

And I want to be a friend right back to them. I want the purple hearts even if I don't have a uniform to display them.

So as I rest and recuperate, here's a shout out to my dearest dear friends.

You know who you are.

Sabbatical

I have to admit it, folks. I've been having a tough 2012 so far. Not that any one thing has been tough; it's the accumulation of many things that got to me. In January I was told that my supporting church would no longer be supportive. That meant I had to go out on my own for the first time since earning my counseling license in 2001. That meant detail after detail and assuming responsibility for my business choices. You wouldn't BELIEVE how much goes into moving a business! Address changes, paperwork changes, letters, notifications, not to mention finding a suitable office you can afford. While that was going on my dear daughter announced she had purchased a plane ticket to move out to LA permanently and was leaving in late February. That was tough. On top of that, she was in a community theater presentation of 'Steel Magnolias' and was the character that dies in the end. Imagine my emotional state having my child die three nights a week and 2 matinees. I was a wreck. Then dear son-in-law moved out to LA to meet up with his missus. I felt a double loss. There were also a few work crises I had to deal with (I don't care if my grammatical usage is incorrect- more than one crisis is one too many). Thankfully, I had planned my sabbatical last Fall and knew I was taking the month of May off from work. Several times I didn't think I was going to last that long. So here I am, trying to learn how to relax. I've got a few adventures in mind plus some personal goals to tend to. Think of me as I allow my ears to stop ringing and learn how to speak in complete sentences again. Frankly, I'm overwhelmed at the prospect of having these days roll out in front of me with not much to do. Just wait 'till June...you won't know what hit you.

Goals vs Resolutions

Resolutions get a bad rap.

We think that to make a resolution is to vow to fail. How many of us well-meaning people start out the year promising themselves they'll become more perfect the coming year?

That can include not smoking or drinking, exercizing more,reading Scripture more often, becoming more friendly, being less of a jerk...

It implies that we're supposed to become a different person (only better?)once the clock strikes 12.

Then at 12:05 we mess up.

We feel like a failure and over time we refuse to make resolutions knowing it will only magnify how weak or undisciplined we are.

How we're stuck being who we are.

However, goals mean something else entirely. Goal weight, goal running time, financial or academic goals. Reading through the Bible in a year goals.
The word 'goal' is more hopeful. It doesn't imply failure but daily progress.

I encourage all of us (me too) to realistically accept that goals are future oriented rather than in the here and now.

I hate it when I tell dear hubby that I shouldn't be so moody and he responds by saying (wait for it) "Then DON'T."

I don't think he realizes how close I am to resolve to smack him in the head!

Just as we expect our friends and loved ones to respect our efforts and love us in spite of our failures I think we need to do the same thing for ourselves.

RESOLVE that you're going to set practical GOALS for yourself daily. Turn your back on expecting to be able to keep impractical RESOLUTIONS.

My days of wishing to be an olympic gymnast is probably not gonna happen. And that's okay. I don't want to intimidate the youngsters who still have that goal.

Have You Ever?

Have you ever had the feeling you've already been where you're going?
Like you aren't sure you have to do something or have already done it?

I find myself standing in the middle of a room trying to remember why I'm there. The only way I can tell is by what I'm holding in my hands or what I'm wearing (that isn't a terribly reliable indicator, of course).

These last few days I've felt like I've been stuck in a revolving door, endlessly going round and round. Finally I get squirted out into the world wondering where I was and what brought me here.

My first week in my new office went pretty well. My clients were complimentary and sessions were fruitful.

But just like in a new house, I was aware of all the creaks and thunks and noises in the room. At times it was all I could do to focus on the task at hand.

What I discovered afterwards was weird and cool at the same time (like me...).
We were able to focus because the issues of life and necessary healing were more important than petty distractions (again, like me).

After a while I noticed that I hadn't noticed anything outside my room. All the flurry that got me to this point was no longer important.

Have you ever found that when the crisis/task/change you had to experience ended, you had a choice to look back or look ahead? It's vital to be able to concentrate on the future rather than the past.

So, as I continue to adapt my new office to reflect who I am and what I do, I want to give thanks to all who helped get me here.

Despite my fears and misgivings, God has helped me survive the revolving door, even if He had to squirt me out the door when I least expected it.

Coming Up For Air

It has been a looonng last few months. I haven't had time to do laundry (see prior blog) much less write on this blog.

It amazes me how time can fly when you're not thinking much or doing much.
I've been known to doodle away a week or so just getting lost in a book or shopping. I've become a fervent 'lady who lunches.'

But these last few weeks have dragged by. I've been dreading the passage of each day and here's why:

Change.

In January I was told that I needed to relocate my counseling office due to a change in ministry focus at Harvester Christian Church. They'd graciously extended scheduling and support since I'd become acquainted with them 9 years ago.

The process of striking out on my own and the details that are necessary really freaked me out.

I remember hearing this little inner voice (?) say, "I'm not old enough to do this."
Of course, I gave myself whiplash as I realized that I certainly AM old enough!
So that thought had to be surrendered.

Then dear daughter Kari told me she'd purchased her plane ticket to move to LA. I'd known for over a year that she and her husband Gareth had planned to make that move; that's why they were forcing themselves to live in our basement while working fiendishly to save up money to move.

It came to me that this was a big deal. That my family might never be the same as it was. That our future interactions would take work and planning.

My two weaknesses.

Along with that dear daughter was cast in a local production of Steel Magnolias.
Have you ever seen Steel Magnolias?

It's rough, I'll tell you. There was not a dry eye in the audience and I sobbed like a kid who dropped her ice cream cone on the ground.

I experienced grief and loss as I watched that play. It was a real tearjerker. And Kari played the Julia Roberts character who doesn't make it to the last scene.

I barely made it through that one.

So now she's moved forward in her life and Gareth will be joining her in a few weeks. I love her so much and will miss them both terribly. Everyone is telling me to Skype but I'm still trying to figure out how to email so it may take a while.

So now my office is moved, the pressure is off, and now it's time to come up for air. I feel like I've been in labor for three months.

I think I'll be okay. I'm blessed with helpful and irritating friends who love me too much to let me hide. They stayed away when I needed time to process stuff and kicked my rear end when I was overdoing it.
Believe me, when it's time to repay the favor I'll be there with great zeal...

I'm excited for the future, for the opportunities that might come my way.

But if you see me in the next few weeks, please ignore the twitch in my right eye and left shoulder. I've heard they will lessen over time.

Confessions from a Dirty Old Gal

Some people can tell when they're too busy or distracted by how empty their refrigerators are. Some folks find sticky notes everywhere and can't figure out what goes where. Other people cry 'Uncle' when they discovered they've delivered the wrong kid to the wrong activity on the wrong day.

Not me. When I'm too busy I run out of clean clothes.

I've become aware that longer I go between laundry days the better my wardrobe becomes.

That's because I always grab my favorite sloppy-yet-clean t-shirt or jeans when I get up in the morning. I love certain items and wear them way too often.

Then, when these favorites get dirty I go to the next-favorite and repeat the same pattern.

So when I run out of my old stand-bys I have to resort to my church clothes; you know, the dark slacks and knit sweaters with the little designs on them. When those get soiled I turn to the black pants and sparkly number I last wore to Aunt Dorothy's 50th wedding anniversary.

Once my choices are to wear an old bridesmaid dress or do laundry I think about it...

And do laundry.

It almost feels like a shopping spree when I unearth what's been languishing in the bottom of the laundry basket; I haven't seen those duds in weeks!

I'm not a bad person, really. I don't consider myself to dress badly enough to be a candidate for 'How Do I Look?' or 'What Not To Wear.'

But I wonder if the emails of weirdly dressed people at Wal-Mart were merely busy folks grabbing the very last thing in their closets before breaking down and buying laundry detergent.

I can delay no longer... off I go to Wal-Mart for soaps and softeners needed to regain my beloved wardrobe.

Hmmm...I think I'll wear my sequinned tube top and plaid pajama bottoms. I mean, no one would be there with a camera at this time of night, would they?