Category Archives: Soul Care

And all shall be well…

12 Monday Oct 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

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One of my favorite quotations comes from the writings of English mystic Julian of Norwich:  “…All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”

In any day, life hiccups and things go bump in the night.  But over the course of a lifetime, all does indeed become well.

And so it seems is Max, who gave us quite a scare yesterday.  Max is home now, after a battery of tests and after more than a little stress to this poodle mom.  Yesteday the vet had no clue what could be the source of Max’s latest malady.  Today the official diagnosis is Addison’s, which means Max’s body manufactures no cortisone.  Yes, none.  Did it stop all at once?  Was the cortisone spigot operating on Friday noon and turned off six hours later?  That’s how quick it seemed to happen.  One moment Max is his bouncy self; the next a limp rag.

I really try not to worry over that which I’ve no control.  Sometimes this is easier said than done, like last night.  I woke up in the dead of night to remember Max.  And before drifting back to sleep, I whispered a quick prayer.  And even though it was brief, I told God exactly what I wanted for Max; none of this ‘thy will be done’ business. 

I wish I could have the faith of St. Julian that all shall be well.  Then I wouldn’t feel this need to give God a helping hand with shaping answers to my prayers.  Maybe that’s why I prefer, or maybe why I feel I am at my best, when I pray without words.

When I pray with words, I’m slumming.  But not so with Julian.  Her words, like the poets, soar.  And they help lift me up — out of the slum of my own words — to  heaven, I guess.  And God, I hope.

And ushered into the presence of God, with love in my eyes and no words on the tongue, here is the part where I thank God that Max will soon be all well.  God’s good at reading minds and hearts.   

The Doggie Trinity

10 Saturday Oct 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Soul Care

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Even in my wildest dreams, I never thought I’d wake up one day to find myself living with three rambunctious dogs.

Life with three young dogs — the oldest turned two in May — reminds me of those never-a-dull-moment days of young family, when my husband and I were raising four children.  But instead of eight legs, it’s twelve; and instead of being thirty-something, my husband and I are teetering close to the golden years of senior discounts.

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Cosmo, our Holy Terror Terrier

To their credit, the dogs do their part to keep us active and healthy.   Three times a day they remind us it’s time to eat —  Cosmo especially likes her grub.  Then they remind us to relax and pet our pets, to relieve the stress lint picked up from everyday life.  Max especially lines up for rubs.  And finally the dogs remind us when its time to exercise, to venture outdoors for a walk  around our Mesta Park neighborhood.  Maddie especially likes her dubs.   So thanks to our doggie trinity, we live a balanced life of grub, rubs and dubs.

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Queen Mother Madeleine

Dub is our family shorthand for the letter “W”, which stands for the word ‘walk.’   It was once  secret code known only to the human half of the family. But being the smart dogs poodles are, Maddie and Max have learned that Dub means walk. And whenever the “DUB” alarm is heard, all canine heaven breaks open:  Maddie begins her dizzy circus pirouettes, Max starts lumbering through the house like a wild beast unleashed and Cosmo goes zoom, zoom, zoom as she effortlessly threads poodle and human legs like Sonic the hedgehog on a video game obstacle course.  Our version of the Wild West Show leaves us in the middle of doggie mayhem, with leashes in hands and canines circling us like wild Indians.

Members of  our doggie  trinity each know their role.  Maddie is our holy mother — holy in the sense of being set apart from the pack.  Maddie rules her canine kingdom from her throne that once upon a time, was my husband’s favorite recliner.  Max is Maddie’s adopted son, the lover of all guests.

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Maximilian -- Loved and Lovers of a Billion

  

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Holes - Work in Process

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Who Needs Termites when you have a Terrier?

Max stands ready to offer his poodle love — even if Max has to put his paws on your chest or shoulder to do it.  But if guests are shy about receiving french kisses, they should keep their mouths shut.  Cosmo’s mission in life is to make holes.  When she’s not charming the socks off of our guests, she’s chewing a hole in a sock.   Or digging a hole in the garden.  Or chewing a hole in my back door frame.  Or gnawing a hole in my stairwell post.  Cosmo our holy terror, is the cannine child I don’t dare take my eyes off for a minute.    

A good friend recently reminded me that dog spells god backwards.  And I’m beginning to think  this sharing of three letters is no mere coincidence.  Because I know unconditional love when my dogs soft wet eyes meet mine; and this reminds me that God beholds me with soft eyes too, and that I should regard myself a whole lot more tenderly —  especially during all those times that I’m being well…..so human.  

So I wonder:  Is it possible that we who live on this side of eternity come closest to experiencing the love of heaven when keeping company with a dog?  As I ponder life with our doggie trinity  — that Mother, Son and Holy Terror — I’m thinking yes.  

Off-Center Stage

06 Tuesday Oct 2009

Posted by in In the Garden, Prayer, Soul Care, The Great Outdoors

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The days are slipping through my fingers just as leaves are slipping from the trees. 

The Magnolia in the back yard is making a terrible mess right now; its yellow nitrogen-deprived leaves are dropping like flies.  As I reach down to pick up the leaf litter scattered across the yard, I notice houseflies resting on the leaf’s shiny surface.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many houseflies, even at a summer picnic.  What do they know that we don’t?  Perhaps their presence is a harbinger of winter’s too early arrival.

My week is slipping away, with a piece of my day allotted here and there.  I am sad that I’ve no signficant blocks of time to devote to gardening and I’m in a mad rush to get my gardens put to bed and the duplex gardens next door completed before winter descends.  Like the piles of leaves and army of flies, I also sense that a winter freeze  is just around the corner.   And this makes me grieve the shortness of autumn.

Tomorrow I’ll attend my graduation ceremonies at the Oklahoma County Extension office, where I will officially be certified as a master gardener.  Like a true gardener, I joked with one of my fellow graduates that I’d rather be in the gardens than at the ceremony; yet, knowing the day is as much about our faithful trainers as it is about us who are graduating, I will go to eat, drink and be merry.  Then afterwards, I’ll rush back to the gardens for the afternoon.  If all goes well, all purchased plants will be installed; and with decent weather, the duplex gardens will be finished by week-end.

Another fly in the ointment to make my week so choppy is the spiritual writing I’ve been squeezing in to the open cracks of  my day.  After three months out of the saddle, I’ve picked up the loose threads of  this curriculum and Thursday night I’ll lead a small group of faithful women in the practice of centering prayer.  That I will be offering this lesson on centering prayer in a week where I am pulled in so many directions merely shows that God does have a great sense of humor.

But as I write, I sense a rightness and order in my world, even in winters that come too early and in graduations that mark a beginning of gardening knowledge rather than an ending and in teaching a lesson in centering prayer when I feel so off-center.

To God be the glory in all my days, especially when I slip off-center stage and reveal my broken humanity.