The Chronicles of Riley- A life well lived

I think every family that has ever had pets at some point has that one dog that just changes your family forever. Riley was that dog for us. We buried him a year and a half ago after living with him for 14 years. We will miss him for the next 14 years I am sure. I told the kids that one day I would write down his stories. He has been gone long enough that I can do it now with fondness and tears but without the grief. I should probably start with how Riley came to be a part of our family.

This actually starts with a box full of kittens and Kenzie's preschool. Someone dropped them off one day and when I went to pick Kenz up- there was one little fluffy white kitten left. I figured every little girl needed a kitten so we brought him home and named him Toby. We watched him like a hawk never letting him outside unsupervised. One day he wandered out the front door for approximately 2 seconds before I followed him out and in that miniscule amount of time he was attacked by a neighborhood cat and got his leg broken. Did I mention we had no money to fix a broken leg on a stray cat? But somehow we managed to cover his vet bill and brought him home to recuperate. Which he did quite quickly. Now I am thinking we rescued him, loved him, and now patched him up- so this cat is going to love us forever and be in love with us. Well he obviously thought differently. I think his thought process was more like- "These people have only had me like a month and they already broke my leg- I am out of here." And he promptly moved next door with our neighbor that had 8 other cats. We would go bring him home every day and he would go right back the first chance he had. This went on for weeks until our egos could not take the humiliation of having to beg our cat to live with us, and we just let our sweet neighbor have him.

So our first attempt at a family pet was a huge failure. Kenzie was not too disappointed by the time we gave up on keeping him, but I felt terrible that her kitty had moved out. We went on for quite some time petless. Then one day I looked out my kitchen window and saw running across the yard of my neighbor across the street (not the cat lady) the cutest puppy I had ever seen. I went out to "investigate" - which is really code for "pet,kiss, and snuggle" and found out he was a long-haired dachshund...and he had brothers and sisters.

I was sold. I knew this would be the redemption for the runaway cat. We packed Kenzie up and headed out to the farm where these puppies were waiting. When we arrived, the puppies and their mom were all in a chain link kennel in the front yard. We asked where the dad was and were told he always escaped the fence and they didn't know where he was right at the moment. -You know when you read a book and there is this little detail you read and realize it's important- you're not sure why but you know it is? Well this was one of those details that I should have picked up on at the time. It was a foreshadowing of life that lay ahead. -

We knew we wanted a boy and there was only one little boy left- so we scooped up this cute little bundle of red fur and black eyes and took him home to live right across the street from his brother, Griff. That was the beginning of our life with Riley.

Walking

On Tuesday nights, I have an hour and a half to kill at the soccer fields. I spend about half of this time watching soccer practice and the other half walking a loop around the fields. I go up the stairs to the upper parking lot around the top, down the side, then loop to the far outside of the bottom parking lot- partly to make as big a loop as possible and also because when I started this it was August and the far side of the lot was in the shade- then circle around the back of the fields and end up back at the bottom of the stairs. I will make this loop 3-4 times on a typical night.
Last night, I noticed another lady at the top part of my loop walking the opposite direction. We passed in the middle of the upper parking lot- I noticed she was about my size and walking about my pace. I remember this because I was thinking too bad I didn't know her because we could walk together since we were walking about the same. I made my loop and as I entered the upper lot, I passed her again, I noticed something else. We weren't passing in the middle this time- she was further on my side. Hmm...that didn't make sense. Was she walking faster than me? It didn't look like it. Maybe I needed to pick up my pace a little. So I did. Next loop- same thing. She's even further on my side of the parking lot. What the heck! At this point, I am completely bothered by this. As I loop around again I am wondering how she is going so much faster than me- I knew she wasn't running because she wasn't hot and sweaty enough to be doing that.
Am I really shallow enough to be concerned about someone walking faster than me? Oh yes and not just concerned but starting to feel a little insecure about my own pace. Maybe I am much slower than I think I am? Maybe I am not in very good shape? Maybe, maybe, maybe....
Then in God's infinite grace He let me realize that I was only passing her on the upper lot and not the lower. We were walking different routes- she was taking the inside of the bottom lot while I was swinging to the outside. If we were on different paths, I certainly could not compare our pace! I was so relieved and slightly embarrassed that I had spent the last 20 minutes trying to figure this out.
The real irony was before I noticed her and became completely distracted I was praying about not feeling like I was "behind" in my life with where God wanted me to be. I see others going off to school, writing books, leading mission teams to Africa, and I feel so plain and ordinary. Like I need to "pick up the pace". He is so sweet to me- that He took my neurotic compulsion to compete with another walker to show me a truth for the rest of my life. I am on my own path. You are on your own path. I cannot compare where I am and what I am doing with anybody else- because my path is unique to me. I may pass others along the way that look similar and seem to be doing the same thing, but even though our paths cross repeatedly, I can never forget we are on a different route to our destination. This is so relieving!
Also- as a little side note- since I was taking the outside lot, I was most likely walking faster...not that it matters...I'm just sayin'.

Chicken

Chicken Run is a kids movie about a chicken farm where the chicken's owners decide that eggs are not profitable enough and go into the business of pot pies. The whole movie is about the chickens trying to escape from these horrible owners who are going to eat them. As horrifying as it sounds, it's actually a pretty funny little movie. Halle and one of her friends pulled out the old VHS tape to watch it again this past weekend- yes, VHS still exists and yes, I still have a VCR in my house and no, Fred Flintstone is not running it. As the girls sat eating lunch and watching the movie- rooting for the chickens to be victorious, I found it quite ironic that they were eating fried chicken. The girls would be the first to say the owners were wrong for wanting to kill the chickens but they saw no problem eating the ones on their plates.
Life is like a box of chicken...Just kidding. But more often than I would care to admit, I have loudly denounced something in someone else's life as I sit feasting on the bones of that very thing in my own. Oh that I would get to a place where I can see clearly my hypocrisies and would not rush in so quick to judge others! The Bible calls for wisdom but it says to be wise as serpents, gentle as doves. It's that last part that really needs some work. How is it possible to have the wisdom to see other people's "stuff" and not judge? When we realize, not know it in our heads but way deep down in our guts-realize that we have not only some of the same stuff- but even more stuff- then we can love well. Then we become "chief sinners" like Paul called himself. If we know we are the worst of the worst then we are okay with everybody else's pretty bad. But the only way we can face our stuff and our worst of the worst status is if we are secure in what Jesus says about us.
We are not just loved, but lovely..not just forgiven, but holy and righteous...not just accepted, but favored,...not servants, but children. He sees Himself when He looks at us because He covered all of our "stuff" with His "stuff"- and His stuff is pretty darn good. I will gladly accept who I am -the worst of the worst- for who I get to be..a lovely, holy, righteous, favored child of the King of Kings.

Facial

I went to get a facial yesterday. This is usually a quite pleasant experience- an hour of relaxation and I leave with glowing skin. Yesterday, however, I happened to tell Jan that my skin was looking a little splotchy. Big mistake. She says, very casually, " Oh I have a great treatment for your skin. It's called fire-and-ice." That really should have been enough said but I was so relaxed on the table with the quiet room-no kids asking me for anything, no dogs barking, or phones ringing...You see how I could get caught up. I naively agreed to the treatment and prepared to be pampered. After an hour of intense burning pain I am done. She told me as I left I might be a little red in some spots the next day. That was to be expected since the whole purpose was to get rid of the sun damaged areas on my skin that were under the surface causing the splotches.
I woke up this morning looking like I had been mauled by an alley cat. The right side of my face is particularly bad, apparently because of the sun coming in the car window and hitting that side of my face. It looks like shrapnel sprayed my face with all these red spots and patches everywhere. My daughter asked why I had a black eye. I explained it was not black, it was a "little red", that was all- just ask Jan. What is most disturbing is that I asked for this. I wanted to get rid of those splotches and the only way was to bring them to the surface to remove them.

I have had this same experience with God many times. I tell Him the things I want to get rid of in my life, and He casually says, "Oh I have a great treatment for that..." The things I want gone don't disappear, no- He brings circumstances that draw them to the surface where I can see them for what they are- ugly...very ugly. I would rather the process not go this way. I would like for them to disappear under the surface never to be heard from again. But He knows this cannot be. They have to come out. Then and only then can they be healed. We don't like to wear our flaws and imperfections out in the open for other people to see but if we never face our failures then how can we overcome them? Fortunately we are not alone in this. Jan sent me home to deal with my face but He never sends us on this journey alone. He will face those ugly spots with us and He will heal all those places. He will not let us be put to shame in our broken and frail state. he promises to cover our ugliness with His beauty, our failure with His victory. It is sometimes a painful process, so maybe it is true- beauty really is pain. But with Him it has a purpose and even better- the pain is only temporary and the results are even more impressive than un-splotchied skin!

Raod trip

We had a football game in Augusta last weekend. Brad was out of town, Kenzie was away at a cross-country meet so Halle and I were left to attend and cheer the Knights on, specifically #22. The day before the game I got a text from Brandt asking if a friend of his could ride to the game with me and stay the night with us in the hotel. I asked him if this boy really wanted to ride 3 hours in a car with people he doesn't know? Awkward. No reply from Brandt. When I get home Brandt, taking my question as a "no" instead of just a question, has prepared for me all the reasons why I should let this kid ride. As he is going through this convincing speech about how great this boy is and how much I will like him and what his background is ,etc.. I thought if Brandt only understood that I don't have to know this boy because I know the one asking me. That is all I needed to bring Nate along. I know the boy asking and I love him. It is irrelevant who Nate is and what his personality is like.
We try so often to convince God to answer our prayers with all these reasons we feel are valid. And we forget we are the beloved children. He doesn't answer us because we have convinced Him or because we deserve it- He answers out of love for us. He just loves us. He doesn't do what we want anymore than I always give Brandt what he wants. The point here is the heart from which He responds. Out of an overflow of love and affection for an imperfect child- but the imperfection is not what He notices- He sees that it is His child asking- the child He knows and loves. If we really understood how He longs to have relationship with us we would run to Him and not away from Him. We would long to know Him more- to be with Him more. We would rest in knowing He is for us and He is good and He is not in a bad mood all the time, irritated with our failure. He is a good dad, the best there ever has been.

Lost

This weekend I was in a very small town with 2 friends and none of us were familiar with the area. We were leaving a local restaurant and heading to a church. We were told it was 5 minutes away. It was 6:50. We made it into church at 7:40. Did we break down? Did we stop to help someone? Did we make a pit stop for dessert and coffee? No to all of these. We got lost. Going in a straight line. With 2 GPS systems.

"Wow" is what I'm sure you're thinking. Rightfully so- that is totally deserving of a wow. I actually would not have thought it was possible had I not been in the car. How can you get lost going in a straight line? Well first you don't go in a straight line. You arbitrarily turn and then turn again, and then turn around. Then you ask people walking for directions and they tell you they don't live there. Really? Who comes to Moultrie on vacation? Then you drive and turn some more. Then ask someone else for directions. It all comes down to bad Intel.
First we didn't research ahead of time to know where we were going and we had to rely on locals for directions. Now every person we asked truly believed they knew where that church was and how to get us there. Ironically- the lady digging through the trash for lottery tickets is the only one who sent us the right way.
I see this all around the world. People are searching for direction, looking for the truth. We, the church, should be the "local" authorities on Truth and not just point people to him but introduce them. Sadly, this is not happening. People are getting bad intel. They are running in circles and everywhere they turn is more misinformation. We misinform by misrepresenting. When i was in Guatemala the missionary showed us one of the few evangelical churches in the city, then he told us a young girl in a wheelchair fro one of the local villages used to attend church there. Until the Pastor told her to stop coming because she was a distraction. In her wheelchair. To her, this man represents God. If he thinks she is taking up valuable space in his church and needs to go away- what does this say about God?
I want to run to this girl and hold her and tell her my God is not like that man- He would be pulling her out of that wheelchair to dance. He would laugh with her and love her and heal her. She is precious to Him and He never wants her out of His presence. And I would like to scream at this pastor. How dare he! But then I know I am just like this pastor- broken and afraid. Maybe he's embarrassed that he cannot offer her the healing Christ died for or maybe he really does believe he is too busy to help the sick. I don't know but I know I have misrepresented Christ more often than I have done Him justice. I cannot judge his actions or his heart but I can weep over the hurt of the girl and the man- and the God who wants to heal them both- but they don't understand who He is or what He came to do.
We need good directions so we can give good direction. We have to be healed ourself before we can offer healing to someone else. To say we've heard God can do mighty things is great- but to say He has done mighty things for us is believable. Suddenly we are credible and not just good storytellers. We don't need a GPS, we need an encounter. And you never know- sometimes those encounters come in the most unlikely places or people. Even a lady digging through the trash can point you in the right direction sometimes.

Tight tuck

All right- this is going to be short and sweet tonight. All you older guys out there- stop it with the tight tuck and the pants pulled up to your pits. I do not know when this was ever in fashion but I know it has never been flattering. It elongates the butt to about 5 times its original size (atleast I hope it's not really that size) and shortens your torso to almost nonexistent. Please, for the love of all that is attractive, if you have to hike your pants up (and I really do not understand how guys of all people could find this comfortable), but if you must- then at the very least leave your shirt untucked so the rest of us aren't forced to look and wonder how you can possibly get your pants that high. And if you MUST tuck - why the tight tuck? Must the shirt be jammed so tightly into your pants that it keeps your arms pinned at your side? How about a litle give- a little blousing out? Come on, it's 2010- give whatever decade that was a rest and try something daring...bootcut.