Learning Gratitude From a Dog

Learning Gratitude From a Dog

Annie was a “rescue.” She was one of seven sisters picked up from a shelter by the rescue organization “You Lucky Dog.” Part boxer, part pit-bull, part something-or-another, we met Annie when she was just a couple of months old at The Roswell Farmer’s Market on a hot summer morning. The organization was showing off the pups that were available for adoption, and along with her sisters, Annie was there to be petted and loved. That day a year and a half ago we found ourselves rescued by Annie.   Annie is teaching me about gratitude. Of course I am skeptical that in dog cognition gratitude, as I understand it, is something a dog experiences. Nevertheless there is much I am learning about gratitude from this fifty pound brown pup.   Every moment is purposeful for her. I am not saying that she is always busy with frantic energy as she scratches off items on her “to-do” list. Rather, Annie fully engages the moment: she will thoroughly smell most anything new, different and unique. Butterflies delight her; bumble-bees amaze her, and squirrels engage her. Every moment seems to be filled with possible wonder.   Every creature is a potential friend. Of course not every creature is friendly, including the two-legged variety, but every creature she meets is greeted with an enthusiastic wag of the tail. Instead of fear, anxiety or defense, she chooses to meet another with the hope of kindness exchanged.   Every day is a gift. And in each day, there are many gifts to experience. Whether nosing through the trash to fish out a tasty bit...
Take a Knee, Take a Stand

Take a Knee, Take a Stand

Last year an NFL player, self-identified as a devout Christian, decided to “take a knee” during the playing of the National Anthem. It was a silent protest on behalf of Black Lives Matter. He is bi-racial and was raised by white parents. I can only assume that matters of race are acutely and personally important to him. Currently NFL players across the country are taking a knee during the National Anthem – some for the same reason, others out of solidarity, and still others for any number of other reasons. I am quite certain that by now you are more than familiar with the issue and have perhaps formed an opinion. Of late those opinions are fierce and divisive. I have no desire to offer yet another voice to this debate by making my own point, clarifying a side, or otherwise adding another remark that will add yet more division. I have nothing to add…   Except to write and say there are times to take a knee and take a stand.   Taking a knee during the National Anthem has created an uproar that has a religious fervor to it. A belief system has been challenged and assaulted. There was a time when making a point against those in power would cost a life. Nero lit up the Appian Way with the crucified bodies of Christians and other “dissenters” that stood against the regime. In this current debate, if you do not stand it will cost you derisive ridicule, your reputation, and perhaps even employment.   Please do not read into this. I stand up for the National...
Packing Your Fears

Packing Your Fears

Recently I was listening to an interview of a backpacker who hikes as a “minimalist.” I know what you are thinking – this is not about hiking in the buff! Minimalist backpacking – or ultralight as it is more commonly called – is about packing the minimal essentials for the hike. Instead of a tent, for example, he packs a tarp. He cuts the handle off his toothbrush and removes all the tags off his gear. His “stove” is not one of those expensive, fancy kind that I covet. He uses the bottom of a soft drink can that he has modified to burn twigs and leaves. The interview was intriguing, but I like my gear, tags and all. This guy is so into minimilast hiking that he even shortened his name from “Clint” to “Lint.” Who needs that extra consanant? In the interview he reflected that when he first started hiking trails he quickly learned what he could do without. So far he has clocked over 14,000 miles all over North America and all along the way he has shredded “gear and fear.” He dryly observed, “You pack what you fear. If you fear bugs and weather, you pack a heavy tent. If you fear hunger, you pack too much food. If you fear the cold, you pack extra clothing.” You pack your fears. I noticed others packing their fears this past week as the threat, and then reality, of Hurricane Irma blowing through. Gasoline was in short supply. Grocery store shelves were emptying. Most all of us were hunkering down at home, myself included, staying off the road....
Wanderings

Wanderings

I am very grateful to have this opportunity – a privilege actually – to share a collection of my stories and reflections in my recently published book, “Wanderings: A Pilgrim’s Walk on this Good Earth.” Parsons Porch is the publisher and there are a few ways you can get your own copy. If you would like for me to sign you a copy, the cost of the book including postage and delivery is $21. Please reply to this blog and I will give you instructions. You can also order directly from the publisher with the following link: https://www.parsonsporch.com/baptist-books/wanderings-a-pilgrims-walk-on-this-good-earth. Finally, you can also order on Amazon.com and if you have a Prime membership you can save a little on delivery. Thank you for indulging me through the years by reading my stories and sharing your own through this blog. I look forward to the stories yet to be told through The Pilgrim’s Walk blog. Peace,...
I Didn’t Mean to be a Preacher

I Didn’t Mean to be a Preacher

I didn’t mean to be a preacher. At least not that young. I had just turned 21; returning from a summer spent in the Philippine Islands serving, as it was called at the time, as a “summer missionary.” Fall semester was about to begin at college and I was one of a handful of early arrivals. My faculty advisor saw me chatting it up with some friends in the student center and walked over my way. I assumed he wanted to ask me about my summer on the mission field, or remind me to set an appointment with him to discuss classes. Instead he came right out and asked had I ever given any thought to being a preacher. Yeah, I thought to myself, when I get old. He said that there was this little country church just north of Rome that needed a preacher for Sunday mornings. There was not much more to the job than Sunday sermons and it would be good experience. The pay was $75 a week. I did not think to ask about benefits.   Since I had nothing better to do, and waiting tables that fall did not seem very exciting, I thought why not. I had plans to go to seminary after college, preparing for a ministerial vocation, but I had no clue what exactly that would look like.   That fall I was introduced to a people who gathered on Sunday mornings, except for fifth Sundays. Fifth Sundays, it was explained to me, the church did not meet. I never really understood why, but then again it was nice to have...
My Hula Girl Broke Her Hip

My Hula Girl Broke Her Hip

A friend of mine, no doubt thinking I needed a little more levity in my life, gave me a hula girl doll – the little plastic figurine that, well, bobbles and wiggles on top of the dashboards of respectable automobiles. He was disappointed when the hula girl arrived with a broken hip. Not to worry, because this same friend, with the assistance of a little glue, repaired the hula girl and presented it to me as a stand-by until the replacement arrived. I am now the proud owner of two hula girls, one with a broken hip and one who can wiggle her hip just fine. One can never have too many hula girls.   I guess I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I kind of like the girl with the broken hip. There is something about that “flawed but sassy” look I like. I keep her perched right beside a small figurine of St. Francis, which seems to me a safe place for a hula girl to hang out, broken hip or not.   As my beach vacation approaches, I look over at my hula girl and smile. I have friends that will join me on the sandy gulf shores and together we will assemble our children, our stories, and our laughter. For a few brief days we will listen to surf and to music and dance like, well, like a hula girl with a broken hip. More than anything else we will remind each other of the grace of friendship.   We have our flaws – some are pieced back together in a crude repair, and...