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| The sky this morning from our back porch |
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
On July 23, 2013, at Wits' End
Outside my window...
It's 98 degrees Fahrenheit with 40% humidity. A family of robins has claimed a corner of the front garden. Amore's new grass is weathering the heat so far, thanks to his hand-watering.
I am thinking...
about the news of the British Prime Minister's words yesterday about Internet pornography and our collective duty to protect children from it;
about the various misbehaving parts of my body and which one to attend to next;
since it's 5 till 6, I should probably know what we're having for supper by now and have it in the toaster oven. (I know it will be chicken, but with what seasonings/toppings/sides?)
Yesterday, the rediscovery of an essay series from the original "crumbs from His table" e-mail list reminded me of the peculiar phenomenon when one's own words from the past read like someone else's.
I am thankful...
God is who He says He is.
He will do what He says He will do.
I am who God says I am.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
God's Word is alive and active in me. (from the Believing God Bible study)
My dear friend and I were able to talk on the phone last week for the first time in too long (She lives in a different country.);
The afternoon has been quiet after a tumultuous start to the day;
The dog Amore brought home from his walk with Ebony was reunited with its owner before animal services arrived to collect him;
The electrical repair, part 2, passed inspection this morning;
We both were able to attend our youngest nephew's birthday party Saturday;
A relative's cardiac procedure went well, and he was released from the hospital sooner than expected;
The new tires purchased immediately beforehand proved their worth in a rainstorm on the way home;
The shower and tile are installed, only awaiting grout and some wall texture to be completed;
My cleaning helper comes tomorrow to attempt to help me remove some of the drywall dust;
The Lord provided the right help at the right moment to devise a way to maneuver the top half of our shower unit around the corner into the bedroom;
My new computer is working great;
The Lord is sending strength like manna for each day's needs;
He isn't scratching His head in perplexity over how to solve this or that dilemma;
None of the unexpected things lately have caught Him off guard;
The Lord is patient with my lack of concentration in my time alone with Him;
There is always time to read His Word, even if I don't manage to read anything else.
(gratitude list #1086-1106)
In the kitchen...
The clean dishes are all stowed, andchicken is defrosting in the refrigerator chicken is baking with salsa (cheese pending) for tonight.
I am wearing...
a navy polo dress and grey leggings. And hiking boots. Again with the hiking boots.
I am creating...
a crocheted cozy for Allen's lumbar pillow, which tore along the zipper and is temporarily held together with duct tape. I have yarn selected and wound into balls for a possible Christmas project, but that is not in the present tense yet.
(Here is Ebony modeling the blanket given to the aforesaid nephew Saturday:)
I am going...
(perhaps) to a corporate movie night with Amore Thursday night, if my back can handle it, and still going to the pool to exercise.
I am wondering...
what "adventures Aslan may send" for tomorrow
and whether my new senior pastor factors into the answer to my prayers for revival (starting with me and moving outward).
I am reading...
Acts and Psalms, Bonhoeffer (still), Divergent, Weakness Is the Way, and Evidence Not Seen, along with several devotional books
I am hoping...
to have our home repairs finished tomorrow, and certainly by week's end.
I am looking forward to...
quiet in the house more days than not, removing drop clothes from the book shelves and piano, and having our shower working again.
I am learning...
Ephesians 4:25-27, NIV:
Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. “In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.
Around the house...
Dust reconvenes on every surface as soon as I turn my back. The path from the garage to the work area is spotted with spots of indeterminate stuff. Old sheets cover some of the bookcases. Ebony is hiding in his nesting bed, temporarily not barking at potential threats. (He's been a little on edge with the workers in the house, seeing as how he's my self-appointed bodyguard.) My swim towels are in the dryer. The air conditioner is running quietly. The light that was arcing last week is no longer doing so. It's still a mess, but a mess with progress.
I am pondering...
what it looks like for me, right now, today, to put off my specific "old self" and put on my "new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness" (Eph. 4:22, 24).
A favorite quote for today...
One of my favorite things...
hugs from nephews, sisters, and grandmother
A few plans for the rest of the week:
Yesterday, the electrician and the bath workers both came in the morning. The latter stayed all day. I made two trips to Home Depot, one without a supervising Y chromosome (shocking, I know).
Tomorrow, Lord willing, the shower work will be completed and the bathroom put back together. My house helper is expected in the afternoon, and I hope to go to the pool again at least 2 more times this week.
There are some medical decisions pending and appointments to schedule. If able, Amore and I are going to a movie Thursday night. Through a program arranged by our church, my parents are hosting 2 Chinese exchange students for 2 of the next three weeks, so we plan to meet them at some point soon and probably share at least one meal.
Sunday I get to hear my new senior pastor preach again. It will be the third time for me to hear him in person. It's so nice to have stability in that office again.
A peek into my day...
Sharing with Peggy Hostetler's The Simple Woman's Daybook today and with Ann Voskamp's Monday Multitudes Community
Full Disclosure: This post contains some Amazon affiliate links. Purchases made by clicking those links will yield a small percentage referral fee to the owner of this blog.
It's 98 degrees Fahrenheit with 40% humidity. A family of robins has claimed a corner of the front garden. Amore's new grass is weathering the heat so far, thanks to his hand-watering.
I am thinking...
about the news of the British Prime Minister's words yesterday about Internet pornography and our collective duty to protect children from it;
about the various misbehaving parts of my body and which one to attend to next;
since it's 5 till 6, I should probably know what we're having for supper by now and have it in the toaster oven. (I know it will be chicken, but with what seasonings/toppings/sides?)
Yesterday, the rediscovery of an essay series from the original "crumbs from His table" e-mail list reminded me of the peculiar phenomenon when one's own words from the past read like someone else's.
I am thankful...
God is who He says He is.
He will do what He says He will do.
I am who God says I am.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
God's Word is alive and active in me. (from the Believing God Bible study)
My dear friend and I were able to talk on the phone last week for the first time in too long (She lives in a different country.);
The afternoon has been quiet after a tumultuous start to the day;
The dog Amore brought home from his walk with Ebony was reunited with its owner before animal services arrived to collect him;
The electrical repair, part 2, passed inspection this morning;
We both were able to attend our youngest nephew's birthday party Saturday;
A relative's cardiac procedure went well, and he was released from the hospital sooner than expected;
The new tires purchased immediately beforehand proved their worth in a rainstorm on the way home;
The shower and tile are installed, only awaiting grout and some wall texture to be completed;
My cleaning helper comes tomorrow to attempt to help me remove some of the drywall dust;
The Lord provided the right help at the right moment to devise a way to maneuver the top half of our shower unit around the corner into the bedroom;
My new computer is working great;
The Lord is sending strength like manna for each day's needs;
He isn't scratching His head in perplexity over how to solve this or that dilemma;
None of the unexpected things lately have caught Him off guard;
The Lord is patient with my lack of concentration in my time alone with Him;
There is always time to read His Word, even if I don't manage to read anything else.
(gratitude list #1086-1106)
In the kitchen...
The clean dishes are all stowed, and
I am wearing...
a navy polo dress and grey leggings. And hiking boots. Again with the hiking boots.
I am creating...
a crocheted cozy for Allen's lumbar pillow, which tore along the zipper and is temporarily held together with duct tape. I have yarn selected and wound into balls for a possible Christmas project, but that is not in the present tense yet.
(Here is Ebony modeling the blanket given to the aforesaid nephew Saturday:)
I am going...
(perhaps) to a corporate movie night with Amore Thursday night, if my back can handle it, and still going to the pool to exercise.
I am wondering...
what "adventures Aslan may send" for tomorrow
and whether my new senior pastor factors into the answer to my prayers for revival (starting with me and moving outward).
I am reading...
Acts and Psalms, Bonhoeffer (still), Divergent, Weakness Is the Way, and Evidence Not Seen, along with several devotional books
I am hoping...
to have our home repairs finished tomorrow, and certainly by week's end.
I am looking forward to...
quiet in the house more days than not, removing drop clothes from the book shelves and piano, and having our shower working again.
I am learning...
Ephesians 4:25-27, NIV:
Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. “In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.
Around the house...
Dust reconvenes on every surface as soon as I turn my back. The path from the garage to the work area is spotted with spots of indeterminate stuff. Old sheets cover some of the bookcases. Ebony is hiding in his nesting bed, temporarily not barking at potential threats. (He's been a little on edge with the workers in the house, seeing as how he's my self-appointed bodyguard.) My swim towels are in the dryer. The air conditioner is running quietly. The light that was arcing last week is no longer doing so. It's still a mess, but a mess with progress.
I am pondering...
what it looks like for me, right now, today, to put off my specific "old self" and put on my "new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness" (Eph. 4:22, 24).
A favorite quote for today...
God is represented as treasuring the prayers of His saints in vials. . . . They are placed like fragrant flowers in the chambers of the king. . . . And later they are represented as poured out upon the earth; and log, there are voices, and thunderings, and great providential movements fulfilling God's purposes for His kingdom. We are called 'The Lord's remembrances.' And are commanded to give Him no rest, day or night, but to crowd the heavens with our petitions. And in due time the answer will come with its accumulated blessings. No breath of prayer is lost. The longer it waits, the larger it becomes (A.B. Simpson, quoted in We Shall Have Spring Again, 118).
One of my favorite things...
hugs from nephews, sisters, and grandmother
A few plans for the rest of the week:
Yesterday, the electrician and the bath workers both came in the morning. The latter stayed all day. I made two trips to Home Depot, one without a supervising Y chromosome (shocking, I know).
Tomorrow, Lord willing, the shower work will be completed and the bathroom put back together. My house helper is expected in the afternoon, and I hope to go to the pool again at least 2 more times this week.
There are some medical decisions pending and appointments to schedule. If able, Amore and I are going to a movie Thursday night. Through a program arranged by our church, my parents are hosting 2 Chinese exchange students for 2 of the next three weeks, so we plan to meet them at some point soon and probably share at least one meal.
Sunday I get to hear my new senior pastor preach again. It will be the third time for me to hear him in person. It's so nice to have stability in that office again.
A peek into my day...
 |
| the runaway dog, named Luke, who played in our back garden for a few hours early this morning |
Sharing with Peggy Hostetler's The Simple Woman's Daybook today and with Ann Voskamp's Monday Multitudes Community
Full Disclosure: This post contains some Amazon affiliate links. Purchases made by clicking those links will yield a small percentage referral fee to the owner of this blog.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Lament or Complaint? {A Repost}
A dear friend's most recent blog post, "Just Grieve," reminded me of this bit from the archives. It still speaks to me. I pray it benefits you, too. Isn't it nice to know God grants permission to feel sad before Him?
My Bible reading lately has been in Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Lamentations, and a bleak stretch it is. Israel has persisted in disobedience and idolatry for so long and to such an extent that God sends Assyrian and Babylonian forces to conquer them and carry most of the people away into 70 years of captivity. Jerusalem is besieged and sacked, the temple is destroyed, and the Glory has departed.
In the face of such catastrophe, faith does not demand that we put on a plastic smile when our hearts are breaking. God does not desire us to be false with Him. Grief is a spiritual discipline, too, and at times the only right and appropriate response.
Godly grief expresses itself in the laments of Scripture. Job's speeches and Lamentations fall in this category, and individual or corporate lament is the largest subgenre of the Psalms (which more generally constitute lyric poetry). Scholars estimate that at least a third of the Psalms express lament; a few examples include Psalms 13, 22, 40, 59, 74, 88, and 109.
The Thomas Nelson Study Bible describes Biblical lament this way:
Although no strict pattern applies to every lament, common elements include
By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion (Ps. 137:1, ESV).
How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?How long will you hide your face from me? (Psalm 13:1, ESV)On this blog we've spent a good many posts discussing the spiritual practice of celebration and delight, but that is not the only appropriate emotional response to the life circumstances God assigns us.
My Bible reading lately has been in Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Lamentations, and a bleak stretch it is. Israel has persisted in disobedience and idolatry for so long and to such an extent that God sends Assyrian and Babylonian forces to conquer them and carry most of the people away into 70 years of captivity. Jerusalem is besieged and sacked, the temple is destroyed, and the Glory has departed.
In the face of such catastrophe, faith does not demand that we put on a plastic smile when our hearts are breaking. God does not desire us to be false with Him. Grief is a spiritual discipline, too, and at times the only right and appropriate response.
Godly grief expresses itself in the laments of Scripture. Job's speeches and Lamentations fall in this category, and individual or corporate lament is the largest subgenre of the Psalms (which more generally constitute lyric poetry). Scholars estimate that at least a third of the Psalms express lament; a few examples include Psalms 13, 22, 40, 59, 74, 88, and 109.
The Thomas Nelson Study Bible describes Biblical lament this way:
In the lament psalms, we hear the strong, emotional words of sufferers. These are words written by real people in very difficult situations. Sometimes the forcefulness of the psalmists' complaints against God is shocking. But these godly sufferers know that God will not be angry with their honesty, for even when they scream at God, it is a scream of faith (887).These are the prayers for the sleepless nights and weary days, for the seasons when we feel like Bilbo Baggins, "too little butter spread over too much bread," for the days which seem more Romans 7 than Romans 8, for hospital rooms and funeral homes. The sheer multitude of laments in Scripture bears witness that hardship is a commonplace in life in a fallen world, yet God desires to fellowship with us in the midst of suffering as we cry out to Him. What is more, they offer us a guide for how to do so and give us words when we have no words.
Although no strict pattern applies to every lament, common elements include
- an initial cry to God,
- the list of complaints,
- a profession of reliance on God,
- a presentation of reasons God should intervene (such as past covenants, promises, and actions that shape the psalmist's expectations of the future),
- specific requests for deliverance and action, and
- a resolution to praise (TNSB, 887, and Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature, 114-115).
These elements may occur in any order or repeat, and some may not appear at all. Psalm 88 never turns the corner from lament to praise, which gives me comfort and confidence that I don't even need to pretend that before God.
However, Israel incurs God's displeasure and discipline when they whine and complain. What's the difference between grumbling and lament?
As I've been mulling this over ever since that earlier post and the comment dialogue on "Worn Out," I believe there are at least four areas of difference:
- Audience: Grumbling speaks about God to other people; lament addresses God directly in prayer. This resembles the difference between gossip and conflict resolution.
- Content: Complaint disputes God's previously revealed character; lament seeks to reconcile God's character with circumstances that seem to contradict it.
- Attitude: Grumbling stems from a heart of unbelief; lament worships in wounded faith.
- Result: Whining produces rebellion; lament limps forward in obedience as best it can.
Amid all the disasters and crises in the daily news and the personal trials facing friends, family, and ourselves, it comforts me to know that I can pour out my heart like water before the Lord (Lamentations 2:19) and mourn with Him as well as dance for joy. Learning about lament set me free to do that, even writing my own laments from the patterns above, and I have found the Psalms helpful guides to prayer in times of trouble. May you also find blessing in these thoughts as you grow in relationship with God in the hard times as well as the glad.
Recommended Resources:
Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature
Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Discombobulated
Thank you for your kind prayers and encouraging words in the comments these last two weeks. Please forgive my failure to respond, but know they are very gratefully received. You are a blessing!
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| This little rascal from two houses down appeared in our yard last Monday. |
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| This was last Wednesday's demo. |
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| Thursday and Saturday mornings, my computer was not a happy camper. This lovely pattern apparently means the motherboard is failing. |
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| The extra hole in our garage ceiling a worker made when he fell through. He's fine, thanks be to God! |
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| A very happy unexpected: record-low high temperatures in July |
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| Part one of shower repair. Our 4-year-old neighbor, on seeing this, said, "Who broke your shower?" |
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| See that crack, just left of middle? That shouldn't be there. |
The best word I know to describe the last 10 days is "discombobulated." From the tiny (4 pounds, I'd guess) interruption of a neighbor's dog, whose name I do not know, suddenly appearing in our garden and refusing to go home, to the middle-sized disruption of a terminally ill computer, to the bigger upset of major home repairs, life has been. . . irregular here lately. The toilet from the master bath is in a trash bag in the bedroom. Half a shower sits in the garage under the hole in the ceiling, which needs to be repaired a second time.
Noise, strangers in and out of the house all day long, and what have seemed constant, urgent decisions from breakfast through bedtime, are not my comfort zone. At one point, in reply to a sister's text, I said it was Crazytown here. She is in her own season at that address, so she understands.
(In the midst of my discombobulation, it is not lost on me that all the issues that have arisen are, in my husband's phrase, "first-world problems." We have shelter, safe drinking water, and ample food. Our families love us. We have a house and Kindle full of books and the education necessary to read them. All those things make us among the richest people in the world. That puts the recent challenges in perspective for me.)
Yesterday morning, the Lord reminded me of the hymn I've been pondering since one line bubbled to the surface of my mind a couple of weeks ago, "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty." This seventeenth-century text, translated into English by Catherine Winkworth 150 years ago, appeared regularly in the order of worship at the church where I grew up. The churches of my adulthood have not often (or at all?) sung it, but music has a way of embedding texts deep in our memory banks, doesn't it?
The entirety of this hymn merits the time to read and respond in worship, but here is the first verse which specifically came to my mind:
Yesterday, however, all I needed was the first line. "The Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation." No matter how chaotic my circumstances may feel or appear, no matter how out of control, no matter how high the waves around my boat may rise, I have not discovered the one bit of creation exempt from God's reign. If I move to Crazytown, He's the mayor. More accurately, He's the monarch. He provides sufficient grace for the discombobulated. When I collapse on Him in faith, He brings peace even to Crazytown.
Today brought positive news on the plumbing part of our repairs. Even better, it brought 2 hours of quiet solitude with no workers, decisions, or phone calls. What luxury! They have returned now, but before another disruption arose I wanted to stop by here to visit with you.
It wouldn't surprise me if someone else reading this needs the same reminder I did. Crumble, if it feels like you too are living in Crazytown, please take heart in the knowledge that the Lord, the Almighty, reigns as King there. He delights to come to the aid of those who call on Him. "All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near;/ Praise Him in glad adoration."
May He bring peace into your chaos, love into your conflict, provision into your need, and salvation in every way you want deliverance, through His Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
Noise, strangers in and out of the house all day long, and what have seemed constant, urgent decisions from breakfast through bedtime, are not my comfort zone. At one point, in reply to a sister's text, I said it was Crazytown here. She is in her own season at that address, so she understands.
(In the midst of my discombobulation, it is not lost on me that all the issues that have arisen are, in my husband's phrase, "first-world problems." We have shelter, safe drinking water, and ample food. Our families love us. We have a house and Kindle full of books and the education necessary to read them. All those things make us among the richest people in the world. That puts the recent challenges in perspective for me.)
Yesterday morning, the Lord reminded me of the hymn I've been pondering since one line bubbled to the surface of my mind a couple of weeks ago, "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty." This seventeenth-century text, translated into English by Catherine Winkworth 150 years ago, appeared regularly in the order of worship at the church where I grew up. The churches of my adulthood have not often (or at all?) sung it, but music has a way of embedding texts deep in our memory banks, doesn't it?
The entirety of this hymn merits the time to read and respond in worship, but here is the first verse which specifically came to my mind:
Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation!Initially, the second line attracted my focused attention. "He is thy health." For someone with chronic health problems, that brings profound encouragement and reorients perspective.
O my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation!
All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near;
Praise Him in glad adoration.
Yesterday, however, all I needed was the first line. "The Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation." No matter how chaotic my circumstances may feel or appear, no matter how out of control, no matter how high the waves around my boat may rise, I have not discovered the one bit of creation exempt from God's reign. If I move to Crazytown, He's the mayor. More accurately, He's the monarch. He provides sufficient grace for the discombobulated. When I collapse on Him in faith, He brings peace even to Crazytown.
Today brought positive news on the plumbing part of our repairs. Even better, it brought 2 hours of quiet solitude with no workers, decisions, or phone calls. What luxury! They have returned now, but before another disruption arose I wanted to stop by here to visit with you.
It wouldn't surprise me if someone else reading this needs the same reminder I did. Crumble, if it feels like you too are living in Crazytown, please take heart in the knowledge that the Lord, the Almighty, reigns as King there. He delights to come to the aid of those who call on Him. "All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near;/ Praise Him in glad adoration."
May He bring peace into your chaos, love into your conflict, provision into your need, and salvation in every way you want deliverance, through His Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
*******************
Without numbers, here are a few reasons I thank Him:
His sovereignty
true health in Him
salvation through Jesus
praise
old hymns that still speak
provision of our needs
Amore shopping for, purchasing, and setting up a new computer for me
my vigilant watchdog making sure I'm safe
visits from our young neighbor almost daily
safety for all the workers so far, even when one fell through the ceiling of the garage onto the concrete floor
surviving 7 hours on a July afternoon without air conditioner
a "restorative niche" this morning when badly needed
blissfully cool, wet Monday
seasoned friendships
gifts well-received
escapes to the pool in the afternoons
happy anticipation of my side of the family gathering Saturday for the youngest member's birthday
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Arrival Day
Today we are celebrating Ebony's five-year anniversary in our family. He has been a blessing beyond my ability to express. He deserves a new post sometime soon, but since the electricity is off at our house for a repair all day Wednesday, this retouched story from the archives will have to do. Happy arrival day, Ebony! The bits of grey in your hair add dignity. (No, you can't have a double bacon cheeseburger with ice cream for supper tonight.)
Three years ago today, Ebony joined our family. After Somo died around Memorial Day 2008, Steinway and Amore were lonely. For at least a week, Steinway would sit on the mat staring at the front door as though waiting for his buddy to return from a walk. Amore missed his fuzz therapist and personal trainer. I missed him, too, but I was still somewhat shell-shocked from his final days and not as quick to look for his successor. Whenever the time came to adopt another, I was already asking God for a healthy dog who would be a good and loving companion for us both.
As soon as A. had returned from a mission trip to Guatemala, the search commenced. We scavenged petfinder.com for candidates and kept detailed bookmark folders of our favorites. We considered Chiweenies (Chihuahua-dachshund mixes), dachshunds of all varieties, terrier and beagle mixes, and we drove around town meeting and greeting a few but without agreement.
Finally we saw a dachshund mix named Rex. The description said he was super-sized; as it turned out, he was around 35 pounds, considerably bigger than Somo or Steinway or the other pint-sized candidates. After a little research into the shelter where he was living and other possibilities there, we planned an evening visit.
The volunteer couldn't find him at first. A black dog pressed against the back wall of his crate on the bottom of double-decker kennels proved well nigh invisible. Checking and double-checking the tags against the print-out we'd brought, she finally found him and was astonished she hadn't met him before in his four-month residence.
She led him out to the courtyard and handed him off to us. He was tentative at first but quickly warmed up to the Milk-Bones we had brought along. (My husband has a natural way with animals; I'm not too proud to bribe them.)
We interviewed a couple of other candidates. The other strong possibility was a brown, Benji-like terrier mix with a very outgoing personality.
After talking the decision over at home, praying together, and "sleeping on it," we decided on Rex the super-dachshund. Well, actually, my beloved recognized I was smitten and honored my preference.
The next day, July 11, 2008, I brought Rex home while Amore was at work.
We renamed him Ebony. Not only did he ably fill the roles of buddy for Steinway, fuzz therapist for Allen, and personal trainer extraordinaire for both of us, he has also become our court jester on many needful occasions. When Steinway breathed his last a few weeks before Ebony's first Arrival Day celebration, Ebony helped me through.
There is no "he loves me, he loves me not" fickleness to his affection. After five years, I have no doubt that this little guy loves me. And his treat ball. And his squirrel dude. And his blankie. . .
Ebony also inspired one of the very first blog posts here, the poem "Sermon on the Sofa."
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| Try to contain your excitement, buddy... Ebony, July 2013 |
Three years ago today, Ebony joined our family. After Somo died around Memorial Day 2008, Steinway and Amore were lonely. For at least a week, Steinway would sit on the mat staring at the front door as though waiting for his buddy to return from a walk. Amore missed his fuzz therapist and personal trainer. I missed him, too, but I was still somewhat shell-shocked from his final days and not as quick to look for his successor. Whenever the time came to adopt another, I was already asking God for a healthy dog who would be a good and loving companion for us both.
As soon as A. had returned from a mission trip to Guatemala, the search commenced. We scavenged petfinder.com for candidates and kept detailed bookmark folders of our favorites. We considered Chiweenies (Chihuahua-dachshund mixes), dachshunds of all varieties, terrier and beagle mixes, and we drove around town meeting and greeting a few but without agreement.
Finally we saw a dachshund mix named Rex. The description said he was super-sized; as it turned out, he was around 35 pounds, considerably bigger than Somo or Steinway or the other pint-sized candidates. After a little research into the shelter where he was living and other possibilities there, we planned an evening visit.
The volunteer couldn't find him at first. A black dog pressed against the back wall of his crate on the bottom of double-decker kennels proved well nigh invisible. Checking and double-checking the tags against the print-out we'd brought, she finally found him and was astonished she hadn't met him before in his four-month residence.
She led him out to the courtyard and handed him off to us. He was tentative at first but quickly warmed up to the Milk-Bones we had brought along. (My husband has a natural way with animals; I'm not too proud to bribe them.)
We interviewed a couple of other candidates. The other strong possibility was a brown, Benji-like terrier mix with a very outgoing personality.
After talking the decision over at home, praying together, and "sleeping on it," we decided on Rex the super-dachshund. Well, actually, my beloved recognized I was smitten and honored my preference.
The next day, July 11, 2008, I brought Rex home while Amore was at work.
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| No, he wasn't in trouble already. The shelter advised using the crate for housetraining him. |
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| Also, we decided he would be safer there until Steinway decided he was a friendly. |
There is no "he loves me, he loves me not" fickleness to his affection. After five years, I have no doubt that this little guy loves me. And his treat ball. And his squirrel dude. And his blankie. . .
 |
| Ebony's first afternoon at Wits' End |
Ebony also inspired one of the very first blog posts here, the poem "Sermon on the Sofa."
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