My Husband's New Best Friend

I've been working on my priorities over the last year and a half since I quit my job, which required a substantial change in my spending habits. My small group spent the entire year of '08 studying a book called "Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth" by Richard Foster. The month of February was spent on Simplifying, which was incredibly timely since I had quit my job the month before. I was the next-thing-will-make-me-happy kind of gal; everything from new clothes, the diamond ring for our tenth anniversary, new furniture, decorating the house, ad nauseum. Vacations were spent anticipating the next day's plans. To put it simply, a lack of contentment.

I've felt life change in my spirituality. My discontent is shifting. I mentioned it to my husband recently in passing. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Do you remember when I used to want that big diamond ring and kitchen table and new clothes, addiction to shoes, purses, watches (yada yada yada)?
Him: Oh, yeah.
Me: Well, I just don't feel that as much anymore. Jesus is filling that hole now (with a chuckle).
Him: Well, then Jesus is my new best friend.

Joy Stealer

My pound dog Tish growled at me the other day. I was stunned. We've had her for over a year. With my family of three, she is overly submissive. You come near her and she rolls on her back just waiting for a good rubbing. She's so needy for attention. We're her fourth home. Her bottom teeth are missing. She quickly dominated the lab we've raised since she was puppy with the food and our attention. Tish has had a rough life. Occasionally our fence gate is left open. Hallie, our lab, jets out and disappears off into wonderland. Tish? She lounges on the deck. To me it seems she's thinking, "Hallie, dude, you have no clue what it's like out there. Now this, this is the good life."
Cesar Millan, Dog Whisperer, miracle worker, emphasizes the need for walking your dog half an hour in the morning and 45 minutes in the evening. Helps to wipe out bad behavior. So much of what he says sets off light bulbs, "duh moments." Tune in. It's amazing stuff.
Well, I started the morning walk with Tish to calm some of this neediness. It tends to be overpowering. It had been ten mornings in a row and this dog craves it, anticipates it every day. Each morning she bolts for the door, wagging wildly, jumping, knocking into walls. On day 11, there just wasn't enough time to fit it in. On day 12, morning came and still no time. By late afternoon she was out of her mind. My son and I were ready to walk out the door again without her, and she promptly let us know enough was enough. She blocked the door. I called her to go in her room. (She is normally very content to hang out with the other dog in this room while we're gone.) She trotted near the room and bolted right back for the door. I called her again, same response, as if to say, "Listen, lady, I need my time here." I found her collar under her mass of fur and gently pulled her toward the room. She didn't budge. She hunched into the ground. I pulled a little harder. She growled at me! I proceeded to get behind her to pick her up. She's 65 pounds. Huffing and puffing, I lifted the front part of her body and dragged her, back legs resisting, to the room.
I took Tish for her walk this morning. She was overjoyed as we headed for the door. She's been so content ever since that walk. I stole her joy those last two days. I'm wondering what is my one joy that I could take each day that would set the tone to help me live a more contented, joyful, peaceful, kinder day. I've learned from Tish this is worth fighting for.

Just Another Day at the School Library

I volunteered in the school library last week. The task? Remove books that were irreparable from the shelves so the media specialist could replace them for the following school year. Now, there are a lot of books, so I was skimming through, looking for beat-up bindings, old-looking covers - some even looked like the old excuse "my dog ate it." Then I'd inspect them to see if pages were falling out, torn, etc.
While perusing, I saw familiar titles and some popular authors I've heard my son talk about, and I pulled a few from the shelves (I'm trying to take an interest in his love of fantasy and science fiction works - emphasis on "trying"). On the shelf, they had shiny, clear plastic-covered jackets - looked brand-spanking new. Upon further inspection? Binding falling apart, pages separating. It hadn't even crossed my mind to inspect what appeared to be perfectly intact books. I believe you call that "judging a book by its cover." And while I think kids tend to do the same, obviously they've gotten to know these now worn-out books well and they're still loving them just as they are.
Hmm, I think of how many years of my life I've spent putting on this facade as I was cracking and alone on the inside. In the last few years I've let some people "read my story," and man, how rewarding it has been to let people see my beat-up binding and torn pages! What a blessing it's been to replace my book (not forget it) with an authentic story rich with diverse and interesting characters who live lives in the trenches and aren't afraid to share it.