Clouds and Miracles

“Mary!  Mary!”  I screamed eagerly as I pushed the front door open a little further and glanced into the living room.  The shrill sound of my voice caused my sister-in-law to run across the hardwood floor towards me.  My animated cries had disturbed her.  A look of anxiety began to crease her pretty face.  At first, I didn’t say anything more to her.  I wanted the moment to be a surprise, but I didn’t want Mary to worry.  So now, I smiled and said, “You have to see this!  Come on!”  I stepped back onto the porch as Mary followed me outside.  As she stood beside me, I started to babble eagerly.  “I just came outside to get something out of my car,” I told her as I gently pulled her over to the first step off the porch.  “And I stepped over here, looked up…”  I paused now for dramatic effect before I said, “And I saw that!”  I pointed down the street and up into the sky.

“Oh, my gosh,” Mary whispered as the anxious look on her face now transformed into a look of pure grace.

“I know,” I whispered.  “Isn’t it amazing?!”  And then we both stood quietly for a moment and contemplated the sight in front of us as we wrapped an arm around each other.

A few minutes earlier, when I had walked out of the house, I had stepped down off the porch, turned, and found myself staring at a large cloud.  That was it.  That’s all it was.  Just a cloud…and, of course, I have seen an endless number of clouds over all the years of my life.  But this one was very different.  This cloud was huge; it had to have been several hundred feet tall from the ground up.  Yes, from the ground up!  The cloud wasn’t up in the sky.  The base of it looked as if it was sitting down on the earth.  In fact, it appeared as if the cloud had come to rest at the end of our residential street and then fluffed up into the air like a giant mushroom.  The cloud was pure, new-snow white as it shined like candle wax against the dusky evening sky.  But there was another aspect about the natural wonder that had me intrigued.  At the very top of the cloud that soared up over the steeple of the small Lutheran church at the end of the street was an image of a heavenly being.  Within the fluffy folds of the cloud, I could see the full, feathery wings and the haloed head of an angel.

As my sister-in-law and I stared at the cloud, we both caught our breath as a golden light suddenly shined out from the cloud.  Though the dusky evening sky was clear, an electrical storm was taking place in the center of the cloud.  The sudden bright lightening contained within the cloud caused the angel to glow internally with a spiritual light.

After a few minutes, my sister-in-law walked back into the house.  I stayed outside on the steps for a few awhile as I stared at the cloud and watched the miraculous lightening strikes in quiet contemplation.  Over the next couple of minutes, the cloud slowly began to collapse and sink within itself.  But even though the cloud eventually dissolved into the darkening night sky I still continued to feel blessed and at peace.  I believed I had witnessed a heavenly phenomenon.  And I knew I would always carry within me the hope and glory of the golden angel cloud even when I am experiencing my own days of collapsing into darkness.

Help Is On the Way!

“Friskie!  Cowboy!  Starburst!”  I hollered as I stood at the back door.  “Come on, dogs.  Let’s go!”

Friskie and Cowboy responded immediately.  Both dogs came running quickly across the backyard.  I laughed as I watched their small bodies leaping and gliding across the grass.  After running around in circles a few more times as they chased after each other, the Dachshund and the mutt bounded up the five wooden steps and into the dining room through the open back door.  I laughed as I pulled my legs out of the way so I wouldn’t block their progress.

All right, now where is Starburst?  I wondered as I looked around the backyard.  “Starburst!”  I hollered.  “Come on, girl.  I gotta leave for class.  Get yourself in this house.  Come on.”  I don’t know why I always try to reason with the dogs.  Somewhere in my muddled brain, I knew Starburst couldn’t understand what I was saying, but I didn’t care.  I still tend to talk to our three dogs as if they are rowdy, little kids.  And I was desperate now that they understand me.  I had to get all the dogs inside because I needed to be at the community college in just a few minutes.  The dogs were never left outside when there was no one home.

“Star!  Starry!  Starbutt!”  I ran through all of our little Shih Tzu’s known nicknames, but there was still no response.  I took a deep breath and fought back a flood of emotions.  First, I felt frustrated.  “Come on, girl!  I need to get going!”  When there was still no response, I began to get a little nervous.  God, what if the dog got out of the fenced backyard somehow?  Did someone leave the gate open?  What if someone took the dog out of our backyard?  Do people actually dognap?  Okay, maybe that is a little extreme, but I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to our adorable, blond and brown, furry pet.

Taking a deep breath, I started to step away from the back door.  “Star!”  And suddenly, there she was!  I laughed as I watched the small dog running towards the house from the far back fence.  She was racing across the back yard with her long fur flying back, and her little tongue lolling out of her mouth.  “Come on, girl!”  I cheered her on.

But then, to my surprise, Starburst suddenly came to a complete stop.  “It’s okay, Star, get in the house,” I shouted.  But she wasn’t moving.  Star had been running excitedly towards the house but had come to a screeching halt when she suddenly found a branch from our large oak tree lying on the ground and blocking her way to the door.  She stood quietly still for just a moment as she stared helplessly at the branch.  “You can do it,” I told her as I remained by the back door.  “Come on, girl, just jump over it.”

But Star just stood there as she contemplated the obstacle that had appeared in her path.  Slowly, she stuck out one of her long, thin paws and pushed at the branch.  She swatted cautiously at a few of the spindly twigs that were sticking crookedly up from the long piece of wood.  As the branch rocked away and then rolled back towards Star again, the dog jumped and barked at the attacking limb.  I started to laugh, before saying, “Jump over it, Star.”  But the little dog hesitated at she swatted again at the branch.

“Then go around it,” I tried to tell her.  “Star, if you can’t jump over the branch, you can walk around it.  It’s not that big.”  There it was again.  I was trying to reason with an animal who couldn’t possibly even contemplate my thoughts.  But still, that didn’t stop the words tumbling out of my mouth.  “Come on, Star, just go around it.”

I watched as Starburst walked towards the branch and then jumped back.  Her little body leaped forward again as she barked at the unyielding limb.  Then she jumped back, pranced around on her long legs, and took a hesitant leap forward.  However, her movement was so awkward, she still landed on the wrong side of the branch.  Starburst still found her passage to the house blocked.  She reached out her paw one last time, pushed at the branch and then did something that I had to admit I had done on several occasions.

She just finally gave up.

Instead of fighting against the branch any longer, she just took a deep breath and then keeled over onto her right side.  She just lay there, motionless and helpless, against the branch.

“Star, oh my gosh, girl,” I sighed as I now left the doorway.  I walked across the yard, stepped over the branch and stood over the prone Shih Tzu.  I reached down and picked up the dog’s furry little body.  I placed her four paws on the ground and then said, “Like this Star.”  Then I raised her up high enough to jump over the branch and placed her on the other side.  As soon as her little feet hit the ground, Star was off and running again as if nothing had happened.  She ran towards the house with her little rear swishing back and forth and her tail wagging proudly.  As I followed the dog towards the house and stepped inside, I suddenly had a moment’s realization.  I couldn’t stop remembering the times when I had given up just because some small obstacle had suddenly blocked my path.  Yes, I would reach out occasionally and try to push the obstacle out of my way.  I would just bat at the problem a few times before finally giving up in tears and frustration.  How many times have I thrown myself down on the ground just like Starburst did?

But now, I also realized that there was one difference between Starburst and me.  The dog had gratefully and gladly accepted my help.  She didn’t resist the assistance I had given her and then once the situation was corrected she had just merrily continued on her way.

Oh, my gosh, how many times have I resisted help from other people out of a silly sense of pride?  How many times has my ego made me respond, “Oh, I’m fine, that’s okay, thanks” whenever someone had offered to help me move the obstacles away?  And how many times, when someone did help me, did I refuse to show sincere gratitude because I thought accepting help was a sign of weakness.  I refused help so I would not have to feel obligate to anyone without realizing that allowing others to help is a gift we give to each other.  It is a chance to feel needed and connected to another soul.

Now, I walked into the house and looked at all three dogs already cuddled together in their large bed as they slept peacefully.  Yeah, I suddenly realized I didn’t need to be strong all the time.  I could be vulnerable.  I could accept help.  I could be sincerely appreciative.

I leaned down and carefully ran my hand over the dogs as I patted each one in turn.  Such great lessons I have learned from animals…and ones I will never forget.

New Year’s Resolutions

I really enjoy going to the gym.  Working out is not only something I do to physically stay in shape, but regular exercise keeps me in good mental shape as well.  For the last twenty years, going to the gym has been a great stress reliever for me.  During this time of year, however, my exercise routine can be more stressful than relaxing.  Most days, I usually have to wait to go to the gym until after work.  (Honestly, I don’t want to get up at 4 am just to exercise—don’t judge me!)  Now, I typically get to the gym around 6:15 pm when the parking lot is full.  (It always surprises me how many people who go to the gym fight to get a parking space right in front of the door.  This seems somewhat counterproductive.)  By the time I get to the gym, I have to park on the far side of the lot and walk in the dark and the cold to the entrance.  When I walk into the warm steaminess of the gym, it is already crowded with people sweating, grunting, and, sometimes, complaining.  (Okay, that’s usually me!)  My regular workout routine is continually interrupted.  I can’t exercises on the machines I need or I have to wait in line for a cycle.  I also tend to be a bit of a klutz.  I have dropped weights on my feet, tripped over benches, and rolled off the treadmill with a gym-full of people watching me.

But all of these situations don’t discourage me from working out.  First, I need to be thankful for being healthy and strong, even on days when my workout has been disturbed.  Besides, and I hate to be so negative, but this is the simple truth: this jam-packed gym situation doesn’t last long.  Most of the people who joined the gym around the first of the year are there because they have made resolutions to lose weight and get in shape.  In the twenty or so years I have been working out, the gym always gets crowded around the beginning of January but is empty again by the time spring blooms.

It’s sad that so many people don’t fulfill their New Year’s resolutions, but I don’t blame them.  I don’t think weight goals go unresolved because people are weak or lazy.  They aren’t quitters.  This is a situation that can happen to anyone no matter what his or her resolution may have been.  People set big goals for themselves every year.  It can be hard, though, to break old habits and start new routines, especially when life gets in the way.  So many times, good intentions are put aside due to family emergencies, work demands, and monetary troubles.

And, honestly, I know that I am no better.  I may have made a solid commitment to the gym, but I struggle when I set arbitrary goals.  I know that I will only disappoint myself in the end.  I stopped making resolutions when I realized that a lot of goals I was setting were based on what I thought other people wanted from me.  Or what other people thought I needed to be.  That was probably why I couldn’t commit to any resolution.

And as I looked around the gym today, I wondered if that was the reason most people were here.  Were they actually here based on their own desire to be healthy or were they at the gym trying to lose weight based on society standards?  How many people are motivated to go to the gym because they have been bullied or teased about the way they look?  Were they concerned about their health or did they feel unloved because of their bodies?  Is that why they can’t commit?

Maybe this just isn’t a good time to join a gym.  That’s another strange thing about setting goals.  Timing is everything.  Maybe people leave the gym in the spring because it just isn’t a good time to achieve that particular weight loss goal.  And that’s okay, because time is an illusion anyway.  Time is a man-made tool so what does it matter if people accomplish a goal in one year or ten?

So no there is just one promise I commit to every year.  Each year, I try to spend more time with God.  I believe that if I pray more, if I concentrate on my faith more, than all other aspects of my life will fall into place.  I don’t worry about breaking this resolution, because every year, my faith has just grown stronger and I find myself praying more now than I have ever before.  It’s amazing how much easier this particular “goal” gets every year.

So now, I wish everyone the best in fulfilling any goals they may have set and hope that no one feels bad if they aren’t 100% perfect.  Just pray, believe, keep trying, do the things you enjoy, and above all, just resolve to love yourself no matter what the outcome…there’s always next year…or the next life…or whenever the time is right!

All Lives Matter…Even Furry Ones!

Last Friday, I decided to read through a few recent articles before I started to work on my writing assignments.  Unfortunately, once more nothing but bad news appeared on my computer screen.  I read about cop-involved shootings, protests, natural disasters, and other sad events.  After a while, I finally pushed myself away from the computer with a sigh.  I stood up, stretched, and walked into the bathroom as I thought about…

“OH, DOGS!”  I cried out as I saw the mess that was left on the cool, tiled floor.  We have a huge, fenced-in, lush backyard and puppy training pads laid out in the front room, and yet the dogs still choose to make their messes right in front of the bathtub.  With a groan, I quickly cleaned up the bathroom and then thoroughly scrubbed my hands.

After drying off and hanging the towel back on the rack, I left the bathroom and walked into the living room where two of our three dogs, Friskie and Cowboy, were comfortably snuggled down into the big, soft, cushiony pillows that make up the back of the sofa.  They like to climb up on top of the couch and then plunge their little bodies down into the pillows as if they are falling into quicksand.  Only their sweet, round, dark eyes and cold, wet noses are visible.  The third dog, Starburst, was cuddled up in a little, round, furry ball on the big, brown puppy pillow by the television.

“Alright, dogs,” I call out to them as I clapped my hands together to get their interest.  Starburst lazily raised up her head and scootched her furry, white and brown body forward.  Friskie and Cowboy slowly and clumsily pulled their bodies up from the cushions like lazy, little swamp monsters.  Once I had their full attention, I pointedly asked, “Who made the mess in the bathroom?”

Of course, none of the dogs would confess, even though Starburst and Cowboy looked directly at Friskie, who had lowered her head back down into the pillows.  Otherwise, Friskie refused to admit any wrongdoing.  “Alright, fine,” I answered, surprising myself by how much I sounded like my own mother.  “None of you did it.  The mess just made itself.  No, no, don’t get up.  I got it all cleaned up.  Just go back to sleep…”

And that’s when I suddenly noticed a large, nasty, runny, orangey, thick fluid on the carpet just a mere two inches away from the puppy pads.  I stared at this new mess in shock for a few seconds wondering which dog had been sick.  I was suddenly spurred into action, however, when little Starburst suddenly moved forward from her comfortable position on the puppy pillow and prepared to clean up the chunky fluid by licking at it.  (I know that’s really disgusting—but that’s the way it happened!)  Once again, feeling absolutely revolted, I quickly cleaned up this new mess as the dogs once more settled back down to sleep.  I was sincerely and totally grossed out.  I never had children, so I never had to deal with projectile vomit, gross diapers, and disgusting messes.  Fate sure was catching up with me now.

Finally, after the orange mess was cleaned up, I walked around the room and checked on all three dogs to make sure they were not sick.  When they seemed to be all right, I walked back to the bathroom to thoroughly scrub my hands clean once more.

A few minutes later, I decided to go to the kitchen to get some iced tea.  I walked through the living room…

…and that’s when I heard it…

I stopped for a moment and looked around the room.  What was that noise?

And then I heard it again…

UUUUHHHHH!

What was that?

UUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!

Oh, my gosh.  The noise was a very loud, low, deep sound with a scratchy-throated screech at the end.  It sounded just like a person gagging for breath as he or she was choking.  Choking?

I looked around and that’s when I noticed little Starburst.  She had now moved off of the puppy pillow and was lying on the hardwood floor of the dining room.  The deep, guttural noise she was making continued to get louder.

UUUUUUUHHHHHHH!  UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!

Oh, my gosh, Starburst was choking!  The dog was choking!

“Star?” I called out as I ran over and knelt down beside her.  I reached out my hand and gently touched her side.  But before I could say or do anything more, she yanked away from me as if my touch had hurt her.  She moved away and crawled underneath the table.  Even though she was further away from me, her gags had gotten louder.  I crawled underneath the table after her.  Now, when she saw me, Starburst suddenly lifted her right paw out as if she was reaching for a lifeline.  But her paw quivered twice before the rest of her body began to shiver violently.  Oh, my gosh, the little dog was starting to convulse!  Her whole tiny body was now shaking as she continued to gasp for air!

In a panic, I got up and grabbed my phone off the table.  I quickly pushed the touch-screen buttons to call my sister-in-law, Mary, who is the actual owner of the dogs.

“Hello,” Mary answered her phone sweetly and I felt horrible to have to give her such bad news.

“Mary, it’s Jamie,” I screeched.  I didn’t wait for her to respond.  “Starburst…”  I stuttered, “Starburst is sick.  She’s choking.  She can’t breathe and she started convulsing now.  What should I do?  Where are you?”

“Oh, my God,” Mary gasped.  “I’m nowhere near home right now.  I’m babysitting the grandkids.  I can’t leave them.  But I’m going to call someone to come help you, okay?  I’ll get someone over to the house really fast.”

“Okay, okay,” I answered as we hung up.  God, I had studied and taught abdominal thrust, CPR, and first aid for years, but would those techniques work on a little dog?  Could I possibly call 911?  I crawled back under the table.  Starburst now let me touch her, but I think it was just because she didn’t have the strength to pull away.  “Starburst,” I whispered to her.  “Little Starry…Baby…it’s going to be okay.”

UUUUUUHHHHH, Starburst replied to me.  She was still gagging and her little body was convulsing terribly.  I reached out and pulled her gently towards me.  I raised her head and stared down into her little face.  Oh, my God…Starry’s beautiful, soulful, brown eyes were completely unfocused now!

Oh, my God…  Her left eye stared lifelessly ahead while her right eye had rolled off to the far side.  Then both eyes suddenly began to roll to the back of her head.

That was it!  I pulled the dog out from under the table and held her tightly.  I got up from the floor with little Starburst in my arms and grabbed my keys off the table.  I was going to take the dog up to the vet’s office that was just a few blocks away on State Avenue and 78^th street.  It was after 5 o’clock already, though.  I didn’t know if the office was still open but I hoped they would have some kind of emergency information posted somewhere by the front door.  I had to do something to help this tiny dog.  I love this dog so much.  “God, please,” I prayed as I ran into the living room.  “Please, God, please let this little dog be okay.  Please, God, don’t take this dog.”

UUUUUUUUHHHHHH!

I squeezed little Starry close to m y chest as I ran and prayed.  “Please, God…please, I love this dog.”

Just as I yanked open the front door, Starburst’s body suddenly stopped shaking.  There was one more hard UUUUUUUUHHHHHHH…

….and then silence.

No more movement…no more noise…

…just stillness… and silence…

And then the dog coughed.  She coughed.

“Starry?” I called to her as I held her away from me to look at her face.  I stared down at the little dog and suddenly saw her small mouth move.  She suddenly worked her furry jaw up and down in a chewing motion

…. and then she swallowed.

She swallowed…

And then Starburst opened up her eyes and looked directly up at me.  I stood very still and stared down into Star’s sweet, funny face.  We just stared at each other for a moment.

And then Starry took a deep breath and whimpered.  “Ummmmmm  ummmmm”

It was so different from the loud choking sounds of a few seconds before.  This sound was soft and tender and heartbreaking.  Starburst now feel limply against my chest as she started to whimper uncontrollably now that her horrible, scary ordeal was finally over.  I held her tight to me and cried right along with her as I gave thanks that she was now miraculously okay.  I sat down slowly on the couch and tried to sit Starburst on the floor but the little dog wouldn’t leave my arms.  We cuddled together for a while until her cries finally calmed down.  I placed Starburst carefully down on the floor.  “Oh, Star!”  I sighed as she ran over to the dog dish and began to eat.  “Seriously?”

After her near fatal choking crisis, she was now snacking on dry dog food.  I don’t know if the whole ordeal had just made her hungry or maybe she just wanted to show me that she wasn’t afraid to eat again.  Yes, she had been through a bad choking experience but she showed no lingering fear as she chomped on the food.  I just shook my head at her and laughed.  Then, once she was satisfied, she crawled back up into my lap.  For the rest of the evening, little Starry  followed me around the house and wouldn’t leave my side until we both exhaustively fell into our own beds and went to sleep.

The next day, I came home from work and checked on the dogs to make sure they were okay and there were no messes to take me by surprise.  I went into my room and turned on the computer to catch up on the news.  More deaths, more disasters…

And suddenly there was a knock on my door.  I got up and opened my door to find Starburst waiting patiently in the hallway.  Now as she saw me, she jumped up and down, daintily dancing on her tiny, white, hairy paws.  Starry would run towards me and as I stepped forward she would joyfully jump up and back and spin around before prancing back towards me once more.  I laughed as I playfully chased her back into the living room where Mary was cuddling with Friskie and Cowboy on the couch.

“Starburst wanted you to come out and play with her,” Mary informed me.  “You don’t’ have to if she’s bothering you.”

“She’s not bothering me at all,” I told Mary.  “I’m just so relieved she’s all right.”

“Yeah, I am, too,” Mary sighed.  “I think you are her best friend now.”

“Yes,” I agreed.  “We are very bonded.  We’re best buds now.”  I got down on the floor as Starburst rolled over onto her back so that I could rub her pale belly.

I had told Mary the details of what had happened the day before.  Now my sister-in-law stated, “I think when you picked her up yesterday from under the table and held her tight, you probably dislodged whatever was in her throat so she could start breathing again.”

“Probably,” I answered, “but I don’t really know what happened.  I just remember holding her and praying…”

I stopped talking and Mary and I just smiled at each other.  Mary got up from the couch then and called, “Come on, dogs.  Time for dinner.”  I think all three dogs understand the word “dinner.”  They all trotted after Mary into the kitchen as I walked back into my room and sat down at my computer once more.  After a few minutes, there was a knock at my door again.

I got up and opened the door.  Starburst walked into the room and over to my chair.  I knew what she wanted.  I picked her up and placed her on my lap after I sat back down in my chair.  I rocked her back and forth as I looked at the articles appearing on my computer screen.  Nothing but bad news.  I clicked off the computer and pulled Starburst close to me as I realized that it really doesn’t matter how much money we have or what job we do or what kind of cars we drive.  When it’s all over, the only thing God will want to know is how much compassion we displayed and I how much love we gave.  Because all life, no matter how small and furry, is precious in the eyes of God.  In God’s glory, all lives matter, I thought as I cuddled tiny furry Starburst close to me and once more gave thanks for God’s sweet mercy.

 

 

 

 

My Vegas

About three weeks ago, I was in Las Vegas again.  Yes, again.  It was possibly my twelfth visit to Nevada.  For several years, I lived in Southern California which was just four hours southwest of Las Vegas.  The fantasy city became my weekend get-away destination.  I would make the long, joyful drive through the shockingly beautiful desert on Friday mornings and spend the weekend exploring the strip and surrounding territories.  I would attend concerts and go to special events.  I would sip iced teas while watching all of the colorful people on the streets.  Vegas is the most amazing place to people watch.  Colorful, dressed-up characters, beautiful showgirls, amusing musicians, creative dancers, and aggressive vendors decorate the strip in all kinds of surprisingly bizarre and fascinating manners.  There’s always something to watch, to see, to do, to enjoy in Vegas.

Over the years, I have grown so comfortable with the city, I have no fear of walking the strip by myself at night.  I am careful.  I take precautions.  I do things such as leaving my purse in the hotel room and dressing down so I don’t bring attention to myself.  I walk confidently down the street as if I always know where I’m going and what I’m doing, even though in reality, I’m just roaming around completely dazzled by all of the lights, colors, and designs of the hotels and casinos.  My favorite time to wander is in the early mornings.  I casually stroll down the strip as I watch the sun rising up over the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel and glowing  through the spokes of the High Roller, the large Ferris wheel that is located between the Flamingo and Linq hotels.

I know I am bragging about my Vegas vacations.  I always boast about Vegas.  I happily post many pictures of Nevada on my Facebook page; I share copies of my Vegas travel journals; I talk continually about my adventures in the bright city.  I don’t smoke or drink or gamble, but that doesn’t make any difference.  Filled with amazing attractions and interesting experiences, Vegas is still a wonderland to me.  Not only is the city so interesting, but Vegas is so central to other amazing attractions as well.  My trips to Nevada have also included walking across the Hoover Dam, sailing around Lake Mead, touring the Colorado River, and exploring the red cliffs of St. George, Utah.

Vegas is one of my absolute favorite places on earth.  That revelation surprises a lot of people, though.  I always get questioned about that statement.  I usually get asked by someone, “How can you possibly love Vegas after you have been to so many other beautiful places?”  Other questions have been, “Yuck! How can you stand the kitschiness of Vegas?” “How could you possible enjoy Vegas after you just returned from Alaska (which just happened this year)?”

All right, I will clarify.  First of all, I stated that Las Vegas is ONE of my favorite places.  The city is one of hundreds of favorite places I have seen on this earth.  I have been very fortunate to have traveled so extensively.  I have driven through all fifty states, lived in England, journeyed through Europe, briefly visited Thailand, and backpacked across Malaysia.  I have amazing memories and favorite places through all of my journeys.  Vegas is on my list of favorite places though the ranking constantly changes with each new travel experience I have.

Usually, when I am asked why I love Vegas, I respond with an answer that lives deep in my soul.  I usually say, “Life is good.  Life is so good!”  There are so many wonderful things in life.  I never understood why anyone would pick to live or to do or  to read or to listen to or to see or  to be just one thing.  I want it all.  I want all that life has to offer.  I don’t want to choose just one type of book or music or movie or religion or drink or food or people to enjoy.  I want to see the sunrise over the High Roller as much as I want to see the sunrise over the Rocky Mountains.  I want to see the lights glittering over Las Vegas in the middle of the night in the same way that I saw the casinos of Monte Carlo glistening in the distant darkness as my friends and I stood on top of a cliff overlooking Monaco.  It doesn’t matter; it’s all life and it’s all beautiful to me.

Though I am currently planning trips to Australia and other countries, I will always return to Vegas.  Yes, there are times when Vegas can get a little rough.  I have seen things like people drunk in the streets and  showgirls who display a little more of their “belongings” than I really care to see.  But it doesn’t matter.  I don’t get involved or worry about the negative.  I know that I will continue to stand mesmerized in front of the dancing waters of the Bellagio and thrill over the dolphins of the Mirage no matter how many times I have already experienced those things in the past.

I think everyone needs to experience Las Vegas at least once in his or her life.  Vegas is one of the most iconic American cities that is consistently depicted in TV shows, movies, books, and magazines.  Media cannot capture the full ambiance and pageantry of the city.  It is a surreal fantasyland that is set in beautiful contrast to the glaciers in Alaska, the mountains in Colorado, and the oceans of California.  It is the quintessential yin and yang of life, which all needs to be experienced and explored.

Since I moved to Kansas last year, getting to Vegas is a little more complicated for me.  The journey now includes a plane ride, but that’s all right.  It’s all part of the adventure.  And that’s exactly what life is…an endless adventure.  Vegas is just one of the many amazing stops I have made on the incredible journey of life.

Alaska

Yugen

1. Important concept in traditional Japanese aesthetics. “Dim,” “Deep,” or “Mysterious”
2. Awareness of the universe that triggers emotional responses too deep and mysterious for words.

In 1996, Jon Krakauer, the author of Into Thin Air, published an amazing, thoughtful book entitled Into the Wild.  This book tells the true story of Christopher Johnson McCandless who, after graduating from college, spurned his former affluent life and the bright, comfortable future ahead of him.  Motivated by books he read by Jack London and John Muir, McCandless dedicated himself to a personal vision quest that began in the western and southwestern regions of America.  Changing his name to Alexander Supertramp, McCandless gave his savings of  $25,000 to charity, abandoned all his possessions, left his car in the Mojave Desert, and burned all of his cash to ensure that nothing would hold him back from his journey.  Looking for his own personal paradise on this earth, McCandless even threw away all of his maps and traveled only by his intuition.  In April 1992, McCandless hitchhiked into Alaska and walked into the vast cold wilderness north of Mount McKinley.  For a while, McCandless found shelter in an abandoned old school bus.  Four months later, however, his body was found by a moose hunter.

No one knows what ultimately motivated McCandless’s careless journey.  Questions still remain about a young man’s need to walk away from a rich and promising future to live homeless and starving  in the barren wildness of Alaska.  Some people claim that McCandless had a death wish and a need for self-destruction.    Others just dismiss McCandless’s actions as foolish and innocently reckless.

Well, I guess I am foolish and reckless too….

I don’t claim to know what was in McCandless’s head or why he choose his particular lifestyle, but there is a core element inside of me that feels so connected to his story.  In response to Krakauer’s consistent questions in the book about McCandless’s journey, I think I understand.

There are so many of us on this earth who don’t always feel that we belong in a world that overwhelms us with violent, materialistic, opportunistic situations.  Some of us who struggle to cope, do not medicate ourselves from the stress with alcohol, food, cigarettes, sex, gambling, or prescription drugs, but we do experience a deep and compelling lust all the same.  Wanderlust and the need to move, to travel, to create a universe of our own existence is a hunger that is rarely satisfied.

Restless, never able to settle down, I constantly look for opportunities to escape my existence.  I have no intention of doing this through self-harm.  I just have a relentless need to be lost.  When I travel, I rarely call or text anyone.  I love driving alone down deserted highways  without a single person knowing where I am in that exact moment.  I enjoy the solitude, the drifting away from my reality.  This has been my lifestyle for the last thirty years.

In July, 2016, I finally had the opportunity to realize a lifelong dream.  I spent time this summer exploring Alaska.  This was an amazing turning point for me.  I had made a vow to myself that I would drive through every state in America.  Alaska was the last state I needed to visit in order to satisfy this goal.  However, I refused to celebrate this accomplishment.  I didn’t post notices about it on Facebook.  I didn’t write blogs about my experience.  I just didn’t feel the need.

While I was in Alaska, I felt inspired to go completely off the grid.  I wanted desperately to be lost.  I wanted to cut off all communication to my former life.  I didn’t call or text anyone.  I only posted a few pictures on Facebook when I felt overwhelmed by the incredible scenery of glaciers, waterfalls, mountains, and animals.  But I only posted about 20 of the 350 photos I took.  I haven’t posted any more pictures or information about Alaska since I returned to Kansas.  There is a deep part of me that just needs to keep it quiet and hidden.  To experience so much of God’s amazing wilderness was so profound and awe-inspiring there was no way of putting it into words.  Even the beautiful pictures I have seem bleak when compared to the Alaskan landscape itself.  To this day, two months later, I have no desire to tell people about all of the amazing things that happened to me in Alaska.

However…

I think constantly of running away again to the “last frontier.”  I want to hide in her vast beauty and get lost in her majestic environment.  I want to run with her wilderness and dissolve into her endless splendor.

My life’s purpose was  redefined in Alaska.  I came into contact with who God intended me to be.  I was never meant to have the things of an ordinary life.  I was not meant to have a great job, or a wonderful marriage, or an incredible home.  My only life’s purpose is to grow closer to God.  To know him by his world, by the beauty that surrounds me.  I don’t have to be anything…in Alaska, I can just be…

I don’t care about success, or a home, or money.  Just knowing in my heart and soul that I can move and explore and witness God’s glory is enough for me in this lifetime.

I don’t know Christopher McCandless’s motivation for his journey.

I didn’t travel from this life as far as Christopher did.

But there are times I really wish I had followed him.

 

 

History Lesson

In the end, it is not the years in your life that count.  It’s the life in your years.–Abraham Lincoln

I have always found history fascinating.  I enjoy watching documentaries, reading textbooks, visiting historical sites, and looking at old, black-and-white photographs.  I don’t really know why I am fascinated with the past.  Maybe I just like the idea that there was life before I was born and there will be life after I leave.  History reminds me that time is never ending.  Maybe I like the idea that everything we say and do now will become the memories we turn to in the future for guidance or comfort.  Maybe our history is proof that our time hasn’t been wasted, and maybe, just maybe, there was a purpose to our collective lives and consciousness.  History demonstrates a solid cause and effect that can be mapped out as life progresses and our drama continues to unfold.  History reminds us who we are, where we came from, and the connection we all share to life.

So, if I truly honor past events that have created life as we know it today, why, every year, do I always dread August 21?  I don’t enjoy celebrating my birthday for several different reasons.  I don’t always like all of the attention.  Sometimes, I prefer to go unnoticed.  I also don’t feel comfortable accepting presents.  I don’t want people to spend their money on me when I know they may be financially struggling.  Or maybe…

Okay, to be honest…

I hate celebrating my birthday because I don’t like turning a year older.

There I said it.  I hate getting older.  It bothers me because I don’t see myself the way other people have started to view me.  In my heart, in my soul, I still see myself as a spritely, physically strong, highly capable, intelligent, attractive, young woman.

I’m amazed how many people disagree with me.

I was horrified the first time I was offered a senior discount at the movies.  But…but…I’m a young woman!  Why would I be offered the discount?  My brother, Tony, tried to calm my anxiety.  “Jamie, every person who works in retail or fast food thinks anybody over 30 is a senior.”  His explanation didn’t help.  How did I possibly go from being carded to being offered senior discounts?  What happened to the in-between years?

And I almost went over the edge when I received my first offer to become an AARP member.  I stared at the letter and magazine in abstract horror before I manically shoved both pieces of literature into the paper shredder.

I cringed in terror when I tripped the other day at work and one of my colleagues stated, “You have to be careful.  At your age, you could have fallen and broken your hip.”  I was shocked when I was informed by personnel at the school where I was teaching that my health insurance was going up by twenty dollars a month because I had crossed over into the “older age” category.  I’m always surprised when websites and applications ask my birth year and I have to scroll further down now to find the date.  And just how is it possible that people born in the year 2000 are getting their driver’s licenses now?  Why am I looking at the younger generation and saying things like, “Well, when I was growing up, we were taught to show respect…”  Isn’t that what my grandmother used to say?

I have tried desperately through the years to prove to other people that I am still a young woman.  I buy skin products like anti-wrinkle creams believing that each “magic elixir” holds the secret to eternal youth.  I put in hair extensions and dyed all the gray out of my hair.  Each gray strand reminded me of each day ticking off my life.  I go to the gym constantly and try to convince myself that I am in better shape now then when I was a teenager….if only my knees would stop popping.  I exercise and stimulate my mind by reading, writing, and studying…well…history!  Why do other people so quickly point out and joke about my gray hairs, the lines on my face, my momentary memory losses, and my thin, frail body?

For these reasons, I have let several years pass by without celebrating my birthday.  I didn’t plan on celebrating this year either.  I was just going to go to work, go to the gym, and not deviate from my usual day’s routine.

But then…

Ignoring my request to let August 21 just pass by this year, my family surprised me with dinners, sweet gifts, nice compliments, and a visit to the Kansas City Zoo.  And I was shocked how many people posted wonderful birthday greetings and blessings on my Facebook page.  The good wishes were heartwarming and made me feel connected to so many amazing people who had guided and supported me throughout the years.  Today, Tuesday, August 23, I received a twenty-dollar bill tucked inside a birthday card from my aunt Nancy in Florida.  The card and money made me smile as if I was eight-years-old again…and I think I appreciated the gift more now than I did as a child.  I understood the sacrifice my aunt made by sending me the money and I was touched by her generosity.  The money made me smile, too, because it reminded me of my mother who also sent money through the mail regardless of the risk of loss or theft.  My aunt and mother are women of grace; beautiful, trusting souls who saw the simple good in life, an attribute that only comes…

…that only comes with age!

And that’s when I realize that birthdays are a true blessing!  This year, I thoroughly enjoyed the attention I received from my family and friends and loved the birthday celebrations.

I suddenly realized that my birthday really wasn’t about getting older.  It was a commemoration of how far I have come in my life.  It was a reflection of the connections I have made and the friendships I hold dear.  As I went about my day on August 21, I didn’t feel a year older.  Instead, I felt surprisingly blessed.  I was so thankful for every day of my life and all of the amazing experiences I have had over the years.

Now, I have years of experience and knowledge that only comes with age!

And with age comes a carefree sense of self.  I walk around in my pajamas and go out in public without makeup or brushing my hair and I don’t care.  I say what I feel and don’t worry if it’s not the popular opinion.  I hold on to the things that I like and don’t worry if other people think my ideas are stupid.  I sing out loud and dance with spirit even though other people think I have no talent.  I hold on to my beliefs and refuse any pressure to become someone different.  I try to handle my stress and don’t insert myself into other people’s problems.  I’ve learned to live my life free, accepting the person that I am without fear of what other people think of me. I have grown comfortable in the person I have become.

And I know that all of those who offer me the senior discount and fear for creaking knees will not know this until they too have reached the age of “old,” the age of wearing pajamas in public and dancing when there is no music.

I am more of myself today than I have ever been.  I haven’t grown old.  I’ve grown up by growing strong and growing joyful and growing free.  Among the many great presents I have received over the years, I appreciate the gifts of humility and wisdom the most.  And this year, I learned that every day is precious and every moment needs to be celebrated.  My best birthday gift in 2016 was to see every year as one more blessing.

Though I now have my own unique past, I still maintain my childish heart.  I still have dreams and still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.  But I also have stories to tell and wisdom to share.  I have lived a full life of travel, adventure, successes, failures, heartbreaks, laughter, and tears….

Now, I am older.  I have a history….

I am history.

Tiny Dog Security Team–Episode 1–Independence Day

Usually, during rainstorms, our three dogs go crazy whenever it thunders.  They run through the house with their little paws slapping frantically against the hardwood floors.  They scratch impatiently at my door until I finally let them into the room.  Then, they scoot quickly under the bed and hide until the storm is over.

Because of the dogs’ response to thunder, I was concerned how they would react to the fireworks on the 4^th of July.   I imagined that the dogs would be running around in circles and barking hysterically once the fireworks began.  However, to my surprise the dogs were holding it together much better than I was.

Once the fireworks started, I jumped in surprise every time I heard the loud sizzles, cracks, pops, and rumbles that echoed around the neighborhood.  It has been 25 years since I have experienced a Kansas 4^th of July holiday. For the last 11 years, I had been living in the deserts of Southern California.  Personal use of fireworks is illegal there due to the dryness in the region.  Fireworks are a huge fire hazard in such an arid environment and can only be used in professional displays like at baseball games and theme parks.  While I lived in California, my Independence Day celebration was quiet and calm.  I wasn’t used to hearing the constant explosions happening all around me now and was growing more unnerved as the loud booms continued late into the night.  Every now and then, I ran to the front door to peek outside.  I wanted to see exactly how close the fireworks were to the house.  It sounded like the explosions were happening right outside the front door.  I worried for a moment if I needed to move my car to a safer location.  Was the house secure?  Of course, I was worrying needlessly but the deafening roars of the fireworks continued to unnerve me.  I apprehensively shut the front door.  The light from outside flickered about the dark room and made me feel anxious.  I walked back into my bedroom, shut the door, and took some long deep breaths.

And then….

Oh, goodness, I could hear the dogs thumping down the hallway to my room.  Then, of course, they were soon scratching at my door.  “Okay,” I sighed.  “The dogs are freaking out now.”  I got up from my seat at the desk and opened the door.  The dogs didn’t run into the room, though.  Instead, all three dogs stood in a straight line on the threshold and stared up at me with concern in their eyes.  Then, they came slowly into the room.  But instead of scooting under the bed, they circled around me and looked at me hopefully.  I walked back to my chair and sat down heavily.  To my surprise, the three small dogs surrounded me and stood at attention.  I suddenly realized then that the dogs weren’t looking for comfort; they had come into the room to protect me!  Had they sensed my anxiety?  Did they realize that I was uncomfortable?  Could these three small, incredible dogs actually read my emotions?  They had come into my room not to hide but to unselfishly take care of me.

Once I began to settle down, Cowboy and Friskie returned to the front room.  Only Starburst remained in the bedroom with me.  Starburst is a tiny, older, furry-all-over, white-and-brown female mutt who usually is very calm and low key.  Tonight, however, she stayed on alert.  Though she began to spread out and relax under my chair, whenever I jumped due to another loud crack of fireworks, Starburst would leap up on her four stubby little legs and walk around my chair; she marched around the room as if she was on patrol.  She growled and hissed at any noise that threatened my sense of well-being.  Slowly, she would settle back down beside me again.  She would relax until the next boom occurred just a few seconds later.  And then once again, “Officer Starburst” was back on patrol.  Starburst stayed with me for most of the evening.  She only left my side when I finally turned off my computer and got up from my chair.  After telling Starburst thank you for taking care of me, I closed my door after I thought she had gone back into the living room.

A few minutes later, I opened my bedroom door as I was getting ready for bed.  Oh, my gosh!  To my surprise, I found all three dogs standing sentinel in front of my doorway again.  I was so amazed that the dogs were still protecting me throughout the night.  Little Starburst seemed to be the commander of the Tiny Dog Security team.  She remained stretched out in front of the door as if she was blocking entry into my room.  She looked alert—poised and ready to attack any threat to me.

I suddenly laughed out loud as I got down on the floor.  I happily wrestled and played with the dogs for a few minutes before assuring them that I was fine now even though the fireworks continued.  Though Friskie and Cowboy wandered back off to their bed in the living room, Starburst remained with me throughout the night.  Starburst is Friskie’s mom and I guess when she thought I was scared, her mother instincts took over.  She was, for that night, my protector and defender.  Friskie and Cowboy also continued to check up on me throughout the night.

So with Starburst remaining outside my door, I settled down into bed.  And though the fireworks continued to rage outside, I fell into a peaceful, calm sleep, knowing that I was protected by pure kindness and unconditional love.

Pleasant Days

“I really don’t care for the big things, the big moments,” my sister-in-law, Mary, told me.  “I always tell everyone I don’t need to have big surprises.  I just enjoy the kind things people do for me.”

I smiled at Mary’s words as she continued to talk about the things that were important to her in life.  Her words made me smile.  Life can be so simple if we recognize the things that truly make us happy and hold on to those things regardless of other people’s negative comments or actions.

I was more open to Mary’s thoughts at that moment because I was having a very good day.  I woke up around 9 am and spent the morning sipping a diet coke and catching up on my reading and studying.  I spent the majority of the time in quiet contemplation as I studied my inspirational books on angels and new age teachings.

When I was finally ready to exercise my body and not just my mind, I got dressed and drove to the gym.  I parked in front of the building, but before I got out of my car, I looked out of the windshield and noticed a large, brown, beautiful dragonfly hovering right in front of me.  I smiled when I saw it.  Though I was already familiar with this theory, I had just been reading that morning that butterflies and dragonflies are always symbols of a loved one who has passed over.  Whenever a dragonfly or a butterfly appears, someone on the other side is sending a message of love and support.  I thought about my mother as I watched the dragonfly dance on the breeze for a moment.  I had just been thinking about my mom that morning as I prayed and studied.  Slowly, I got out of my car, but even my sudden movements and the slamming of the door did not chase the dragonfly away.  It remained around my car, circling slowly from the front to the sides and back around again.  I started walking across the parking lot to the building.  Once I reached the front door, on a whim, I turned and looked back at my car.  The dragonfly had not moved away.  I could still see the creature, just a small floating dot now, still dancing around my car.  I smiled again, feeling at peace and walked inside the building.

Over an hour later, I walked out of the gym, and to my surprise, the dragonfly was still there!  It hadn’t flown away from my car.  The insect continued to float lazily around the front of my vehicle.  I climbed into my car and watched as the dragonfly now situated itself directly in front of me as I stared out through the windshield.  I could clear see the creature’s four fragile, gossamer wings.  Again, I thought of my mother’s delicate and sensitive nature and felt her presence beside me.  I started the car and began to ease out of my space and drive across the parking lot.  As I rolled up to the exit, I tapped on the brake at the stop sign…and suddenly, there it was again!  The dragonfly was once more hovering in front of me!  I felt so blessed and grateful.  I was loved and at peace with my life.  I knew that everything was going to happen for the highest good.  I had Mom supporting me from the other side.  I drove away then from the parking lot and headed for home.

That evening, Mary and I decided to visit my brother, Tony, at his job and take him out to dinner.  It would be a surprise for him, just a way of letting him know he was loved and appreciated.  As we waited for Tony to finish work, Mary and I decided to walk around the outdoor outlet mall for a while.  It was humid and hot, so we soon decided to get something drink at the small pretzel shop.  Mary was gracious enough to treat us both to a diet coke.  We then stepped outside and sat on a silver iron bench in the shade as we sipped our cold drinks and talked.  Our discussion was inspiring as Mary talked about the things she considered important in her life.  I couldn’t help but grin as I listened to her.  My smile must have grown very wide because Mary suddenly stopped talking and asked me, “What is it?”

I told her then about my incident with the dragonfly that morning.  “And look at this,” I said as I quickly reached into the pocket of my jeans.  I pulled out a shiny, sparkling penny and showed it to her.  I’m a big believer in “pennies from heaven.”  Every time, I find a coin on the ground, I know someone in heaven is thinking about me.  “Look…while you were paying for our drinks at the pretzel shop, I had walked over to grab some straws and I had kicked something across the floor.  When I looked down, it was this penny.  So I had my dragonfly this morning and my coin this afternoon…I have been thinking about Mom all day.  And I know now for sure that she has been thinking about me, too.”

Mary looked at me with her eyes grown wide with wonder.  She didn’t think I was crazy!  She believed me and agreed that my mother was around me that day.  Mary and I then shared amazing stories about superstitions we acknowledge and moments were we had true clarity in our lives.  Mary then stated her philosophy about the importance of basic kindness as opposed to big gestures.

After a few minutes, Mary and I returned to my brother’s workplace and we all went out together for a great meal and a relaxing, fun evening.  I spent the rest of the night reflecting on what an amazing day I had just experienced.  This had been one of the best days of my life.  I was content.  I was relaxed.  I was loved on earth and in heaven.  And I knew that I was so fortunate.  I don’t need to be always traveling the world or getting praise for my work or being the center of attention.  I just need dragonflies and coins, thoughtful conversation, and moments of kindness.  I will always be willing to trade one great, busy, remarkable day for a hundred days of pleasant.  It’s the little things that always make me happiest, too.

Unconditional Love

Friskie has not been a happy dog lately.  When I come home from work, she no longer jumps up excitedly.  She doesn’t wag her tail or bark happily.  Instead, she just continues to lie on her large brown puppy pillow.  She just glances up at me as I walk into the room.  Her big brown puppy dog eyes plead sadly with me for just a moment.  Then she lowers her head back down, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.  I stare at her for just a moment and think about all the fun we used to have together.  Friskie and I became fast friends when I first moved into my brother and sister-in-law’s home.  I considered Friskie my first real friend when I returned to Kansas from California.  The dog and I used to wrestle around the living room together.  We used to play tug of war with her toys.  Any of the toy I would toss across the room, she would fetch and bring back to me with her little tail waggling and laughter glowing in her eyes.  We used to cuddle and laugh together in bed at night before drifting off to sleep.

But now, she is silent and still.  I think she is depressed.  She is sad; sorrow is reflected in her eyes and joy no longer radiates off of her sweet, furry, brown and white face.  She whimpers for a moment now and then settles down and goes back to sleep.  And though she can’t tell me in words, I know why she cries.  I know why she is upset, but I can’t really do anything about it right now.  I tried to explain the situation to her with gentle, loving words, but, of course, she doesn’t have any idea what I am trying to tell her.

“Friskie,” I try to reason with her as I stand across the room from her fluffy puppy pillow.  “I love you but I can’t pet or cuddle with you right now.  I can’t take you into bed with me.  I’ve been so sick.”

And it was the truth, but I don’t think Friskie believes me anymore.  I had been working a lot of additional hours over the last few weeks, and though I was tired, I was feeling good….until last Tuesday.  Tuesday morning, I awoke feeling good until suddenly my stomach began to twist around in circles and I found myself in the bathroom hoping that my suddenly queasiness and vomiting would pass quickly.  Even though, I felt better after a few minutes, I was still feeling achy, dehydrated, and exhausted for the rest of the day.  That was just the beginning.  For the next five days, I was horribly sick with flu-like symptoms.  I continued to cough, sneeze, and vomit.  I suffered from diarrhea, nausea, and horrible prolonged headaches.  My muscles ached and I felt unable to control my movements.  In the middle of summer, I was freezing and couldn’t seem to get warm.  I was shivering horribly and yet would get up from the bed to find my pajamas and the sheets soaked with sweat.  I had absolutely no energy, mainly because I couldn’t eat anything.  Even the thought of food made me feel nausea and queasy.  I stayed completely behind the closed door of my room, only stepping out when I needed to use the bathroom.

As I struggled to heal, I stayed away from the sweet family pets.  I didn’t want to get any of the dogs or the cat sick.  I don’t know if the animals could catch any viruses from me but I didn’t want to take that chance.  I was too exhausted to deal with the animals.  I was too hot to cuddle with the dogs who are covered in hot, sticky fur.  I left the animals completely alone…and I think I hurt Friskie’s feelings.  Though the other animals seemed to understand and take the situation in stride, Friskie looked hurt and upset.  She seemed to be lonely and sad.  I don’t think she could understand why I had turned my back on her after we had been so close.  A few nights, I could hear her tapping her little paws down the hallway and coming to a stop right in front of my bedroom.  I would lie in bed fully awake as I listened to her scratch at my door.  Then my heart would break as I heard the dog start to whimper and cry to be let into the room.  I tried to ignore her.  I didn’t want to be around the tiny dog while I was so sick.  I really wanted to open the door, but I couldn’t pull my achy body out of bed.  My muscles just would not respond.  I couldn’t get up and walk to the door.  So I lay in bed and listened to my lovely furry friend crying for most of the night.  I wanted to call out to her to soothe her, but didn’t want to risk waking up the rest of the family.  As bad as I was feeling, hearing the dog cry made me feel even worse.  But there was nothing that I could do about it.

Finally, slowly, after five long days, I began to get back on my feet by Sunday morning.  Though I was still weak, I began to feel better and was finally able to get out of bed and move around a little.  But now, Friskie wanted nothing to do with me.  For days, I had ignored her.  For days, I had not played with her or pet her.  For days, I locked her out of my room and refused to cuddle with her.  I had broken her little puppy heart and now she was done with me.  She wasn’t happy to see me when I walked into the room.  She wasn’t excited or playful even as I grabbed some of her toys and tossed them across the room.  She just stared at me, her little doggy eyes watching me closely and suspiciously as I walked across the room and retrieved her toys myself.  I held them out to her but she refused to take them.  She had been my best friend and I had let her down.  She no longer trusted me.

I felt as if I had just lost my best friend and I couldn’t even begin to explain to her what had happened.  I wanted to just grab and cuddle with her, but she would wiggle away from me.  She refused my offers of food and comfort.  We ignored each other for several days, both of us with broken hearts and not sure how to fix this situation without the ability to talk out our feelings.  I began to realize that I would just have to be patient.  I had to let Friskie slowly come to trust me again at her own pace.  I didn’t force her to be with me.

And slowly, it began to happen.

Finally, on Wednesday, the fourth day of recovery, I sat on the living room couch with my nose in the book and pretending that I wasn’t concerned about the dog.  I tried not to make any sudden moves as I realized that Friskie was slowly climbing up onto the large square padded ottoman where I had my feet comfortably placed.  Friskie stopped for a moment and stared at my stockinged feet.  Slowly she reached out her paw and patted the top of my foot before quickly pulling away.  I put my book down and we stared at each other for a moment.   Once more, Friskie reached out and patted my foot.  As I looked up at her again, she seemed to smile shyly at me for a moment.  I turned back to my book.  Friskie slowly climbed up and used my legs as a bridge to cross over to the couch.  Tentatively, she climbed until she was cuddled in my lap.  I wrapped my arms around the dog slowly and cuddled her close as she playfully licked at my hands and fingers.  Then she nestled in close to my chest as she settled down to sleep.  After having her heartbroken, she had started to trust me again.  Over time, Friskie started to come into my room again.  She sits on my lap as I work on the computer.  She cuddles in bed with me at night.  I don’t know if she will ever know that she was turned away because I was sick.  I don’t know if she will ever understand the reason that she had been so rejected.  But regardless of the reason, she has trusted me again.  She is loving me again without question.  She is putting her heart on the line one more time in order to feel and know love.  Friskie, like so many other animals, has returned to love me without question or without asking for anything in return.

Why are humans the only creatures on earth that have to make love so complicated?  Love should be pure, giving, kind…love should be without question…love should be trusting and understanding…love should be the willingness to have your heartbroken.  I want to love as purely and simply as animals do.   Too bad all my relationships aren’t this forgiving, this loving, this kind…maybe I need to learn to trust when I want to run, to love when I want to fight, to give when I just want to take.  To love without fear or ego…and maybe God put animals on earth to teach us about unconditional love.