Beat Back the Busy Beast!

I don’t know about you, but the world sure seems to be spinning at an alarming rate.  It’s a wonder I don’t go flying off into outer space from the centrifugal force.  When I was little, we went to the city park where I always loved to play on the merry-go-round.  You remember this one, right?  A metal disk with railings in each of the quadrants like sections of a pie.  There was a space in the center where one lucky soul would sit, protected by the railing poles with their feet braced against the force of the spin.  The other, less fortunate, kids (usually I was this kid) were stationed along the outer edges of the disk, clinging to the railings for dear life.  Our fear was centered on the one kid who was to spin us into oblivion.  Usually this was an older, stronger child, and he usually had a devilish look on his face right before he threw every ounce of effort and energy into spinning our merry-go-round.  Meanwhile, the centrifugal force would latch onto our scrawny little bodies, threatening to fling us into the pine shavings or pea gravel of the playground. 

While it seems like only childhood playground fun, this is how I feel pretty much all of the time these days.  Clinging for dear life to whatever hand-hold I can grab, straining against the sucking force of deadlines, duties, and just life in general.  I am sure that my busyness is somewhat self-generated.  If I got serious, I could analyze how I budget my time and where I am wasting minutes.  I could determine where the priorities lie and sort out my to-do list with the most pressing things at the top.  Maybe I will someday, but I don’t feel like being that analytical just yet (and who has time for all that?). 
 
I’ve caught myself passing on social invitations because I am so busy.  This past week I had two after-school meetings and a book club get together; on Saturday alone I have morning meetings and an hour-long obedience class with my dog, a wedding, and a birthday scrapbooking fandango for my best friend of almost 30 years. And we don’t even have kids!  (God bless all you parents out there…I couldn’t do what you do).   I had to decline the wedding invitation because it conflicted with the birthday celebration.  I nearly skipped Thursday’s book club altogether.  I didn’t have time to read the book, and I hate being the one slacker in the room.  But I realized that I just couldn’t say no to book club.  First of all, I had passed on last month’s book club for the same reason.  Honestly, if I let busyness be my guide, I’d never go to book club again.  So, I raced home from work, shoveled in my dinner, and raced back out the door (after kissing my patient husband and begging his forgiveness for the guilt I felt over “abandoning him”).

I arrived at my friend’s house and apologized profusely for failing to read the book, dug into a bowl of gummy bears, and decided that I would still find a way to contribute to our group’s discussion.  And we had a great discussion.  My inability to discuss the book specifically was frustrating (at least it was frustrating for me), but we talked about a lot of life issues that the book brought up, which was where I could weigh in.  In an hour and a half we laughed a lot.  We shared stories about our own lives; we talked about courage; we talked about growing up.  I met new people.  We loved on my friend’s dogs.  We ate yummy snacks.

I made sure to leave before 8:30 so I could get home and at least kiss my husband goodbye before he went to work (he has a crazy work schedule, too).  On the drive home I realized that as busy and hectic as I felt earlier that day, I was glad that I took a couple hours from my evening to spend with friends.  In that short time I was inspired by my tablemates, encouraged by them, and I was lighter in spirit.   So I cemented that lesson in my brain:  Don’t sacrifice gathering with good people because you’re “busy.”  Let’s face it:  I couldn’t be at a wedding in Spokane and a birthday celebration in Sandpoint at the same time.  So yes, there are times when busyness wins.  And sometimes you just have to say “no” for the sake of your own mental and emotional health.  And sometimes (let’s be honest) the invitation just isn’t what excites or inspires you (in which case, decline!).   But if you find yourself constantly declining invitations because of busyness, you might be missing out on life.  You might miss making wonderful memories or being encouraged or being inspired or learning new things. 

Life is too short to let the beast of busyness beat you down!

Sit! Stay! Stop Being Such a Wimp!

This is embarrassing to admit, but I am learning a lot about myself in Basic Dog Obedience class.  Noel and I attended our first class last Saturday.  Our instructor, who is a longtime member of the Coeur d’Alene Dog Fanciers Club, is a spit-fire little woman who informed our class of five dogs and their humans that she has been doing this “since before any of you were born.”  She has a commanding presence that is packed into a small package.  Her name is Doris. 

I hope Doris doesn’t flunk me.

Noel learned some basic skills:  sit, stay, heel, and come.  Well, she hasn’t actually learned “come” yet.  I was practicing with her on Sunday when she was off leash outside and she just stared at me quizzically.  When she didn’t move, I stepped toward her and she shot straight up in the air and bolted three cabins away.  So, we have some work to do. 

But I’m learning a lot.  As I was standing on the floor with my four other classmates, trying to teach Noel to sit, she kept sitting facing me.  The key is that she must be sitting at my left and facing out the same way that I am facing.  Noel just wouldn’t do it.  She would sit sideways and look up at me.  Doris tried to teach me to use the training treat to get her to turn properly, but I flailed and Noel just looked at me strangely.  “Here,” said Doris, “hand me the leash.”  With a few deft moves, Doris had Noel sitting precisely as prescribed.  I tried again and, as usual, Noel sat sideways.  Alas.

To help expedite Noel’s transition into our house, I have been reading and reading everything I can about dog training.  One thing I have learned is that dogs thrive when they have a clear sense that their human is the “pack leader.”  According to Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer of television fame, dogs are often nervous and uneasy if they think that they (the dog) are the pack leaders.  The quicker humans can make it clear that they are the leaders, the more comfortable and relaxed their dogs will become. 

Here’s what I learned at last Saturday’s class:  My lack of conviction in myself is instantly detectable by Noel.  I am hesitant, timid, and I question myself constantly.  When I watched Doris teach Noel a proper “sit” in thirty seconds, I realized that my lack of self-confidence is traveling right down the leash.  The question is, who else is picking up on my uncertainty?  My students?  Their parents?  My boss?  Cesar Millan teaches his clients to be the leader.  “Just convey confidence,” he says, “and your dog will respond.”  I need to work on this, not only for Noel’s sake, but for my own sake.

Because I’ve been ruminating on this issue all week, I have caught myself apologizing for things that I shouldn’t apologize for.  I had a computer glitch and sent an email to our tech guru.  I began my email like this:  “I’m really sorry to bother you, and this isn’t an emergency, but…”  Wow.  Talk about letting my lack of self-confidence travel right out my fingers and onto my keyboard.  (For the record, I deleted the mamsy-pamsy opening).  Our neighbors above us found themselves in a real pickle last night.  Their car slid off the side of their driveway, was tilting at a precarious angle, and their tires couldn’t get traction on the ice.  I happened to hear them spinning their wheels, so I went up to see if I could help.  After I wrangled up some de-icer and sand and gave their car a push, they were home free.  “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I said.  Well, I was sorry for them, but the way I said it, you’d think I was the one who drove their car off the road.  If someone bumps into me, I swiftly apologize.  I nearly banged my head on my desk when yesterday I said to my students, “I’m sorry, but you have some homework for tomorrow.”

I’m sorry, self, but you’re way too sorry for your own good.

Our minds are incredibly powerful.  Our thoughts run rabbit trails in our brains, and I wonder how much of what we think is actually detrimental to our confidence.  I wonder how many times a day I criticize myself without even consciously realizing it. I think Cesar Millan is right:  I need to walk like I’m confident and make a concerted effort to change these subtle bad habits that are actually making me not a pack leader but a shrinking violet.  I want to be strong and confident like the feisty Doris.

More importantly, I am trying to remind myself that I carry the power of Christ within me.  Why wouldn’t I be eager to tap into that power He freely gives me?  One of my favorite Bible stories is from the Book of Joshua.  God has directed Joshua to lead the Israelites to Jericho, and their job is to march around the city until the walls fall down.  It’s a crazy task.  I’m sure they felt silly.  They had to do this for seven days.  I’d feel like a complete nerd walking around the walls.  And if I were Joshua trying to lead a whole group of people in this endeavor, I would question my own sanity.  But they did it, and on the seventh day they even blew horns and trumpets.  They had confidence in their God, so that was enough to keep them putting one foot in front of the other.  Joshua certainly tapped into the strength of God.  And I bet he had one thought fixed in his mind.  Prior to their march, God had said to Joshua, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9).

So, my goal is to keep this thought fixed in my mind as well.  I have a deep well of strength right within my heart, thanks to the incredible grace of God.  I am going to tap into this power and become the pack leader, and Noel is going to stop chasing the cats.  And ultimately I am going to guard my mind against these thoughts that ever-so-subtly imply that I am “less than.”

Who knew taking Noel to obedience training would prove to be so enlightening?

Dear Me: Don't Throw in the Towel Just Yet!

You know it’s going to be a tough week when your cat is radioactive and your dog blew a breaker by chewing a computer wire.  Yes, my friends, it has been one of those weeks.  And I’ll be honest:  I didn’t necessarily handle it with grace, charm, or patience.  I broke down crying at least twice, threw a couple of really childish fits (fortunately no one had the joy of seeing those), felt overwhelmed with doubt and regret, and thought about throwing in the towel.   

For me, change is very hard.  I like my life to be exactly as I have arranged it.  I’ve always been this way.  I’m not proud of it; I wish I was more emotionally flexible, but I just find deep comfort in a predictable environment.  We have thoroughly disrupted our humdrum (happy) household with an 8 month old dog.  She is fantastic in every way…except she can’t resist chasing our cats.  That and, because of my husband’s crazy night schedule at the railroad, our blissful sleep is being interrupted with great regularity when Noel wants to go outside or play or… chase our cats.   

Speaking of our cats, my oldest kitty is currently radioactive.  I’m not being metaphorical here, as English teachers are prone to be.  Boy, my 16 year-old senior citizen tabby, is actually Geiger counter-able.  After discovering that he was hyperthyroid, we put him on medicine that generated a horrible allergic reaction called “excoriations.”  In plain English, he was scratching himself until his neck was bald and bleeding.  After trying every alternative imaginable, we decided to have his thyroid destroyed with radioactive iodine.  The procedure took four days at a lovely cat clinic in Spokane called The Cat’s Meow, and when his radioactivity lowered to an acceptable level he was released back into our care.  “Don’t let him sleep with you or sit on you for three days,” said the veterinarian.  But Boy was quite shook up from his ordeal, and I confess that I just didn’t have it in me to shut Boy out of the bedroom.  Therefore, I invited sleep that was interrupted with the regularity of Chinese water torture.  Every hour I would wake up with a start to find Boy staring into my face.  It’s my own fault, I know.  I just didn’t have the heart to isolate him.  The good news is that he is now safe to sleep with us, and I don’t wake up flailing for the other side of the bed to get away from our “glowing” cat.  But we do have to store two weeks of cat litter for 90 days before we can dispose of it.  Otherwise various and sundry alarms will go off at the city dump and they’ll have to call in hazmat to find the radioactive material.

Throw in a major car repair and a very busy week into the mix, and it’s been a bit overwhelming around here.  While I wish I could say I just rolled with the punches, I didn’t.  While I wish I could say that I kept a positive outlook, I didn’t.  I wish I was more like my husband, who can make anything funny.  I wish I wasn’t so internally rigid and such a perfectionist. 

So what did I do about all of this?  I just grabbed a shovel and started shoveling.  Literally.  I put on my winter shoes and jacket, grabbed the shovel from the garage, and went to work on our icy, slushy, cruddy driveway at 10:00 at night, when I really just wanted to go to bed.  And with every shovel full of slush, I complained and cried to God.  Thank goodness we have the Holy Spirit to translate our prayers, because they were surely a jumble of words laced with emotion and certainly incoherent. 

Now here’s the metaphor (you knew it was coming…it is me you’re dealing with after all):  Sometimes shoveling is all we can do.  Just suck it up, pull on your gloves, and get to work.  Have faith that after a while your work will pay off and the slush will be out of your way.  It may take a while to clear a path.  It may take effort to get it done, but at some point the work will produce results.  Sometimes I wish that having faith meant just stepping back and letting God step in and fix it.  If only praying, “Please stop Noel from chasing our cats!” would result in a great cosmic “zap” from God that would instantly change this behavior in our new dog.  Don’t get me wrong, God could certainly do just that.  But what I knew deep down is that God needs me to be an active worker in my relationship with Noel and within my own life.  That’s why she and I are going to dog obedience training starting today.  Noel has some things to learn, and I suspect God has some things for me to learn as well.  By getting to work in my own life, I have faith that God will answer each one of my jumbled, desperate prayers.  Here’s to a straight A report card for Noel as she learns how to be a good dog, and for me as I learn how to be a good owner.

A Christmas Present to Remember...Noel!

The French word for “Christmas” is “Noel,” which was derived from a Latin word meaning “birthday.”  The carol, “The First Noel,” was traditionally sung on Christmas Eve to celebrate the bringing in of the yule log (a very hard log that was burned in the hearth during Christmas).  The carol focuses on the birth of Christ, and the chorus, which features the repetition of the word “Noel,” is the equivalent of saying, “Happy birthday!”  When the three wise men came to meet Jesus, they brought to him precious gifts to honor and celebrate him.  Here’s a little excerpt (I dare you to read it without having to sing it!):

Then entered in those wise men three, full rev'rently upon their knee, and offered there, in His presence, their gold and myrrh and frankincense.

Then let us all with one accord sing praises to our heav'nly Lord, that hath made heav'n and earth of naught, and with His blood mankind hath bought.

Noel, noel! Noel, noel! Born is the King of Israel!"

It’s funny how God works…He allowed his holy, perfect Son to come to earth as a baby, grow up under his parents’ instruction, and later to become sacrifice to save us all.  You’d think that God would be so busy with various famines, wars, and tragedies that He wouldn’t have much time to deal with the little things in life.  Yet He does.  And perhaps because Jesus walked this earth just like all of us, He understands how painful the little things can be. 

My beloved Corgi, Mandy, died this past June as a result of cancer.  She was 13.  Losing her broke my heart.  I don’t think even I, a sappy animal lover and sentimental schmuck, was prepared for how much losing her would hurt.  After about 4 months I could start thinking about finding another dog, but had to enter that pool one toe at a time.  By early December I decided I was actually ready to seriously search for a dog to adopt.  I thought I found one on Craigslist, but it mysteriously fell through.  I knew that a puppy would be a summertime-only endeavor, what with the potty training, but I was open to adopting an adult dog as well.  “The right dog at the right time,” became my mantra.  I even prayed about this canine quest.  And I felt rather silly about that.  I mean, does God really have time for my dog woes?  Really?  But despite my doubts, I put my trust in the ever-faithful, ever-surprising God of Grace. 

On Christmas Eve I went to the Kootenai Humane Society to help out with the cats.  I love volunteering at a place where the people love the animals as if they were their very own pets, and where every effort is made to love, care for, and find homes for animals in need.  It feels good to help clean cages, fill food dishes, do laundry, and generally love on animals.  The quality employees, many of whom I consider friends, are the cherry on top. 

Dogs pass through the cat area all morning long, as the workers move dogs outside so that their kennels can be cleaned.  As I was finishing up a cat cage, I turned to see Mary walking through the room with a dog on a leash.  I don’t know what made me take a second look, but when I turned I realized that Mary was leading a Welsh Corgi through the room.  “Wait, is that a Corgi?” I asked.

 “It is!” Mary replied.  

“Is she up for adoption?” I asked.  (There’s no way, I thought, that this corgi is a stray…).

“She is,” said Mary, “but I think there’s a hold on her.”

“Can I put my name on the list, just in case?”

Mary replied that I could get my name in line, and that she’d be right with me to make that happen.  I moved on to the rabbit cages, almost certain that nothing would come of it.  But then Mary came around the corner, “Heather, there are no holds on this dog!  Come on!  Let’s get her processed and she will be yours!”

I squealed like a school girl as I dashed to the adoption counter.  Within minutes “Sammy” became ours.  I couldn’t take her home with me, however, because she was scheduled for a spay surgery that day.  So the day after Christmas I came back to claim our new family member, an eight month old Corgi cross (the jury is still out on what other dog DNA she is carrying around) with an adorably substantial overbite and a calm, quiet spirit.  She is very sweet, very desirous of being a good girl.  She is a cuddler, loves kisses, and enjoys playing with other dogs.  Once she stops chasing our cats she will earn her gold star of perfection, and that (I am sure) is in due time. 

This Christmas Eve, as I left the shelter and thought about this little “Christmas miracle,” I was struck with the realization that this dog was in fact a gift to me from God.   Everything led perfectly to a dog that is a perfect fit for our family.  There may not have been a bright red bow on her head, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that God picked out this animal just for me.  I suspect He had a smile on his face as I received this gift.  I decided to name our dog “Noel” to commemorate her entrance into our family. 

So I encourage you to have faith that all things, including the little things, matter to God.  Did your car break down?  God cares about that.  Do you have a big test or project coming up?  God cares.  Are you rattled with little, nagging worries?  Give them to God and He will take care of things.  Suffering from the flu or a broken heart?  God is right with you, covering you in His presence and Grace. 

Leave it to God to flip everything on its head:  Wise men from the east bowed and offered gifts to a little baby from a little Podunk town called Bethlehem.  Christ offered his perfect life for the sake of flawed, struggling sinners.  And God gave me a Christmas present on His birthday.