Annie

Yesterday was our last day with Annie, our beloved dog.

We weren't expecting it to be yesterday, it just jumped out and surprised us. The saddest part was that Annie didn't get to decide for herself, she just got to the point where it was much too cruel for us to let her live in such a horrible state. None of us wanted to do that. We've been praying for months for God to just take her in the night. But we had to let her go.

I loved that dog. And we have all cried a lot since yesterday. She was a constant in the house, Annie was always there. You'd open the door and she'd be sleeping on the tile at your feet, waiting for you to get home. In the morning, she'd be there ready to go out and start the new day. Wherever we were in the house, she was with us. She was a good dog.

And now that's gone. Its like missing a room in your house; its kind of the same, but something is definitely different. Its quieter now, and less smelly. We have less responsibility and the living room feels a little emptier. I don't like it.

And all this makes me wonder why God puts pets in our lives. Why does he let them wheedle their way into our hearts? Why does he make them so integral to our families, and then take them away? The thought of animals having no soul has been plaguing me, and it just doesn't sound like God. Why would he put so much effort into them, the details of their personalities, the loving care for them (Matt. 10:29, Luke 12:24), just to snuff them from existence?



Annie loved popcorn. She would do anything to get some. She was scared of the vacuum, and terrified of our black friend, Marvin who frightened her as a puppy. He always used to say she was racist but we would just say, "Marvin, how can she be racist, she's a black dog?" She hated baths but loved to run around after one, she enjoyed sitting in our yard watching the neighborhood, she loved snow and would stick her nose in it no matter how cold it was outside, and she would not stop following mom around the house every second of the day.

There's something there, a spirit. Annie was a specific dog, unlike any other. And if animals have no soul, then she could never sin, which meant that there was nothing barring her from God. She was in God's will as a creature of his hand (Job 12:7-10). She knew who God was, and he loved her when he made her. He loves everything he creates. And outside of man, all creation knows and loves Him (Psalm 148:7-10). So I refuse to believe she just disappeared. I also cannot imagine that Heaven is just a place of clouds and gold streets. It is a perfect version of Earth, with sky and trees and water. Why not animals? And if God puts so much effort into making the unique things here, why not bring them to heaven when they are done here?

I choose rather to believe that Annie's spirit slipped simply and easily to God's realm, fulfilling her purpose on Earth, so she could help praise him with the rest of creation.

Forgive me if that sounds childish, but I would rather presume God's love is all-encompassing to his entire creation, and not just on us.



Whatever His plan is, I'm grateful to God for the 16 years we had her. We'll miss you very much, Annie.

ITSN 1/25

For my first New of the year, I did my own taxes. Not very exciting, I know, but still a milestone of sorts. Actually, its a little more than that. I work for Salvation Army now doing free tax entry for low income families. As if filing my own taxes wasn't nail-biting and surreal by itself, I spend half the week doing other people's as well.

It took me a while to get used to it, because I am not good at numbers. Thankfully, I just run the program (much like a TurboTax), and it puts everything in its right place.

But I think the strangest thing has been working with the welfare class. A year or more ago my mom and I painted an entire battered women's shelter.

... we learned so much...

Now here we are again (both of us), taking people living on nothing into a little room to tell the government how little that nothing is. Its so odd, and sad. I really don't know how half of them stay alive. They are single mothers with their children making less than $8,000 for the whole year! They live in a house! They have a car! How is this possible? And I can tell you that most don't have food stamps or cash assistance (its one of the questions). I just don't get it.

It makes me realize how very fortunate I am. Though I have no money, thanks to my parents I have a home and food and hot water and electricity and internet and gas money. I guess you could say, I'm a form of welfare. But these past few years of being poor have taught me a lot. Mostly, to be humble. Which usually is only learned by being made humble. Also it has taught me to watch my money. I don't take it for granted like I did in college. Every dollar coming in and out is carefully surveyed. I remember last week standing in Drug Mart with a movie for sale. It was $5.99 and I had a two dollar coupon in my hand, making it just under four bucks. Four bucks. I debated over that movie for at least 10 minutes.

I don't know if I should appreciate that or not.

Another thing I learned is how very insane our tax system is. I got my first return in my life this year, just a little money, nothing to gawk at. I got it for two W-2's and a 1099-Misc. For work. We had a lady come in who won the lottery, didn't work a day last year, and is getting 5 grand back.

....? Really? REALLY?

The last thing I realized is how skewed the welfare class' thinking is. I mean, think about it. If you had nothing, wouldn't you be grateful for anything? Not the welfare class. They have nothing, and when they go to someone that wants to help them, they complain its not good enough. Our tax program is FREE and we've had people complain about how slow the return will get to them, how we didn't tell them every little thing they needed to bring (how was I supposed to know it would want to know how much you spent on health insurance last year?), or that we wronged them. Mom had a lady rip her head off because, "You call yourself tax preparers!?"

Well, no. We just explained that we aren't, that the software does the taxes, and by the way... ITS FREE.

Her response? "Well, I guess you get what you pay for!"

So my first New of the year has been much more eye opening than I had ever hoped. Maybe the next New will be more fun.

Something New

So a friend of mine gave me an idea.

What if I purposefully tried 25 new things in 2011? They can be anything, new foods, new activities, new experiences, new places, whatever.

I like that idea.

So I have decided to Try 25 New Things this year, and I welcome you to join me. Here is the badge I have made to signify a "New Thing Accomplishment". I will mark my posts with them when I succeed in newness.



What is life without new experiences? A rerun, that's what. Let's see what we can get into.

God Love

I was given a new way to look at 1 Cor. 13. I'm sure you know it.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

But then you also have 1 John 4

God is love.

So...

God is patient, God is kind. He does not envy, he does not boast, he is not proud. He does not dishonor others, he is not self-seeking, he is not easily angered, he keeps no record of wrongs. God does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. God never fails.



Food for thought.

The Mysterious Recesses

"The great, mysterious work of the Holy Spirit is in the deep recesses of our being which we cannot reach. Read Psalm 139. The psalmist implies - 'O Lord, you are the God of the early mornings, the God of the late nights, the God of the mountain peaks, and the God of the sea. But, my God, my soul has horizons further away than those early mornings, deeper darkness than the nights of earth, higher peaks than any mountain peaks, greater depths than any sea in nature. You who are the God of all these, be my God. I cannot reach to the heights or to the depths; there are motives I cannot discover, dreams I cannot realize. My God, search me.'"

- Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for his Highest

This and That

Yesterday was a strange day for me.

A cinder block classroom, a tempermental computer.

Learning tax entry at the Salvation Army wasn't what I was expecting to do that day. Yet there I sat, my mom on one side, Bunny on the other, punching in Marsha L. Foster's fake information into the tax software. It was humbling. Even more so when they offered us some leftovers upstairs. It was in that moment when I was glad, relieved even, to have a free meal... from the Salvation Army soup kitchen...

...its hard to put into words.

And then I was changing into my "business professional" clothes. And before I knew it I was heading to Dublin to a marketing company, resume and references in tow.

A sterile office. A vague office manager.

The first interview I've had in about eight months. Nothing new really. Same questions, same procedure, same sticky sweet secretary. The job is very vague, and for a marketing company it sounds a whole lot more like sales. When I said this to the man interviewing me, he replied, "It sounds like it, but it isn't. It's hard to explain."

So I'm a little weirded out about my second interview this Friday. Its pretty much job shadowing 9 to 5. I sure hope they're not the mafia.

I came home completely confused as to my life. It felt like Tuesday was a good example of who I am. Neither here nor there. This and that. I've traveled to 7 countries on 4 continents, and I've spent months jobless. I've hiked the mountains of Tasmania, and I've skipped meals to save money. I've had wondrous moments with friends, and I've felt utterly alone.

And Tuesday I struggled tying my red silk tie in the basement bathroom of the Salvation Army. It felt like I didn't belong. I didn't belong in those old tiled hallways with boxes of free bagels, and I didn't belong in that boring white office where everyone kept saying, "Perfect." So where am I supposed to be?

What does God have for me? And what's He up to right now?

Pretty Close

I love C.S. Lewis. He's always had a way of explaining things that I've felt but never been able to express. This caught my eye.

"This brings me to the [sense of glory] as brightness, splendour, luminosity. We are to shine as the sun, we are to be given the Morning Star. I think I begin to see what it means. In one way, of course, God has given us the Morning Star already: you can go and enjoy the gift on many fine mornings if you want to get up early enough. What more, you may ask, do we want? Ah, but we want so much more - something the books on aesthetics take little notice of. But the poets and the mythologies know all about it. We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows even that beauty is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words - to be united with beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves - that, though we cannot, yet these projections can enjoy in themselves that beauty, grace, and power of which Nature is the image. That is why the poets tell us such lovely falsehoods. They talk as if the west wind could really sweep into our human soul; but it can't. They tell us that "beauty born of murmuring sound" will pass into a human face; but it won't. Or not yet. For if we take the imagery of Scripture seriously, if we believe that God will one day give us the Morning Star (Rev. 2:28) and cause us to put on the splendour of the sun (Is. 52:1), then we may surmise that both the ancient myths and the modern poetry, so false as history, may be very near the truth as prophecy. At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of the morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.

- The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis

No wonder I like mythology so much.