life lessons from a golden retriever

We named her Tilley.  With two boys and two girls it seemed like a good compromise between Princess Fluffy, Biter, or Batman, other excellent dog name suggestions. 

 

The kids had always wanted one.  It became the certain request by each of them every birthday, every Christmas and on random days of begging in between.  The youngest was a dog lover right from the start.  He dragged two identical stuffed puppies everywhere, and although they were part of the family and took part in bedtime prayers, even he was beginning to suspect that they weren’t actually alive.

I researched breeders, planned a visit to see puppies for sale, and with a firm “We are NOT getting a dog” from the husband, I was off to select the newest member of the family.

Our golden retriever puppy had a few more weeks of growing before she could come home, so we planned a visit the following week to see all the puppies and let the kids in on the surprise.  I tucked them in the night before with a quiet caution to get a good sleep because the next day would be the BEST EVER family adventure day.  Sleepy eyes popped wide open and they peppered me with questions I refused to answer.  It was beautiful - and a little mean. 

(Friends, when you have a ‘hero’ day as a parent, for heaven’s sake, get maximum mileage out of it.  They are rare, and pressed in between routine days that seem endless but actually fly by, and, if you do it right, lots of days your children will think you are the absolute worst.) 

 

So, Tilley joined our beautiful mess and for the first few months was carried more than she walked, and loved as deeply as the hearts of my four could manage.  Television lost its appeal.  Walks became routine and the backyard a place of wonder, as every falling leaf, stick or fresh snowfall became for her, a thing to be attacked.

 

Looking back on the day we chose her, I realize in hindsight she actually adopted us, taking full ownership of the kids in particular.  Her joy at the sound of the school bus bringing them home every afternoon was a bit much, honestly.  You wanted to be right out of the way as things got knocked over and the celebration began. 

The dog also had an uncanny ability to sense any sadness in my kids, and I have often appreciated the ‘heads up’.  She could tell how the day went at school usually long before I did, sticking close to the one who needed extra attention.  During the teen years, details about their day often took some extra coaxing, so if I walked in the door after work with no dog there to greet me, I knew something was up.  One day I came home to see my daughter working on homework at the dining room table, the dog pressed to her side.  She looked perfectly fine to me, but Tilley knew differently.  So, rather than assume all was well, I chose instead to acknowledge there was likely some hurt there, and to be a little more gentle and kind.  Just one of the lessons we have been learning along the way.

Tilley has been and continues to be a terrible watchdog.  She actually loves it when people come to the door or walk through the yard.  She might actually come through for us in an emergency, but we have concluded based on her attitude to this point that she would be thrilled to find someone looking in the windows or wiggling the locks and simply delighted if they were to try getting in somehow.  She’s a lover of all people with no judgment at all.

Our golden is ten now, a gracious girl who takes her time doing stairs and naps like it is a full-time job.  The celebration time when we get home is a little calmer and the recovery longer.  She’s got some white around her face and the walks around the neighborhood take a shorter route, but she is still loving well and we are still learning things from her.

Here are some of our favorites:

Be kind to people. They have hurts you do not know about.

Life is better lived simply.

Walks are good for you.

When you know who your people are, stick with them.  Be happy when they come home.

Forgive quickly, and completely.

Rest.  There’s nothing wrong with a good nap.

Be loyal.  The testimony of faithfulness is one worth living.

If you come for a visit, plan to be welcomed warmly and to get hair on your socks.  If you don’t plan to visit, find yourself a sweet golden retriever puppy, even if your most important person says not to.  If it works out like it did in my house, that person will like the dog more than you in no time.

the church

All through my growing up years, my family went to the same small Baptist church.   My parents still do, and I expect still sit in the exact place they always have. It is the kind of church where the Sunday school room that was spruced up over twenty years ago is still referred to as the ‘new room’, but the couple who started coming three weeks earlier feel like they’ve been there forever and are family.  The service always starts quite late because no one, pastor included, can ever seem to stop the conversation they are having. 

You may have scrolling announcements on the big screen to keep you informed about events at your church.  At ours, people just called them out from where they were seated.  Now to be clear, announcements were basically anything you wanted to say, from letting the church know you’re feeling nervous about an upcoming appointment, to a pause to sing Happy Birthday to someone, if it seemed appropriate.  One week, a man in the church spoke up to mention that he had a rock in his yard that he needed to move and it was a bit big for him to take care of on his own.  Every man in the church, and I mean every single one from young to certifiably ancient, showed up in his back yard to move that rock.  They could have lifted his home and walked it down the street.  That is just the kind of people that did community at our little church.

I have been thinking about that sweet community of believers lately. 

The thinking started when I listened to a lady at my work speak about how nice it is these days to go to church and be anonymous. 

 

A week or so ago we went to ‘camp day’ at the camp two of my children will be working at this summer.  It is the day the grounds and activities are open for anyone at all to come explore.  It’s a fabulous idea.  Camp reminds us about the best parts of childhood and the value in making time for intentional conversations with kids.  We also need to be encouraged that sweet and simple summers still happen when we go outside and turn off our phones.

  

Anyway, while I was there I saw a man who I haven’t seen in forever.  When I was a child he went to that same small Baptist church and brought as much character to that place as the water-stained ceiling tiles and the sanctuary  windows, likely more.  He was a burst of holy passion in a place filled with the quietly reserved.  I loved him.  One of my brothers could mimic the way he called out “Halleluia” and “Amen, Amen” perfectly.  He seemed old to me then, so I was ridiculously thrilled to see that he lives still, unchanged from my memory.  When I was seventeen, fresh out of high school and ready to leave that small church and my home for university, he placed a hand on each of my shoulders and looked me squarely in the eyes and said, “It might get hard.  We’ll be praying for you every day.”

 

He reminded me of that each summer when I went home and I even got a sweet letter once to encourage me and tell me he and his wife were still praying.  I was deeply impacted by a life lived out of a pure and simple love for God and others.  I wanted to say hello to him and thank you at camp day.  But, when I looked in his eyes and squeezed his hand, the recognition was all gone.  So I just smiled and wished him well.  It may be we meet up in heaven next.  There will be a longer line to say thank you there, I imagine. 

 

And that is why we can’t go to church and be anonymous.  Things do get hard.  We need each other.  We need to see, and be seen.  We need to be the people who are committed to care, to encourage, to walk alongside when it is easy and especially when it is not. 

 

At the church we go to now, life got really tough this past week for a sweet family.   Unexpectedly, they are now in their worst of days.  On Sunday, our church in response, did two things very well. 

First, we worshiped.  Worship is the prayer that changes everything.  It reminds that God is in control. He is real, and true, and good, and faithful, and close.

 

Second, we prayed.  And I just know that many in the congregation have been doing that ever since.  Like the sweet man from my childhood, they understand that when hard times press in, the heavy lifting happens on our knees.  I honestly believe if we could glimpse even for a moment, how the armies of heaven move in response to our prayers, we might never get up.

If you find yourself in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, spend a Sunday morning in a little church with red doors in the center of town.  You’ll be glad you did.  More importantly, find yourself some people who will put their hand on your shoulder, people you can never be anonymous with. 

 

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”  Jeremiah 29:11-13

rest awhile

My goodness, life is noisy.  Traffic and television, activities and workdays, relationships and worries in our heads that we can’t quite shut off.  If we aren’t careful, the noise can become our normal and we can completely forget the wonder of quiet, the encouragement of life-giving relationships, the necessity of rest. 

 

“Then Jesus said, ‘Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.’ He said this because there were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his apostles didn’t even have time to eat.  So they left by boat for a quiet place, where they could be alone.” Mark 6:31-32

 

The very first impulse of Jesus when life got too busy, was to pull away to rest. It is interesting that our reaction to an overfull calendar is to go longer and harder and faster, trying to fit more things into the same amount of time.  Have you ever had days, like the disciples, and like me, when you don’t even have time to eat?  (Just for fun, I checked this out.  Recent stats indicate that the average North American family eats one in every five meals in their car and spends as much on fast food as on groceries.)  We are busy.  We are stressed.  We are tired.

  

Now it is important to note that there can be seasons to run and seasons to rest.  If all you do is run, God wants to meet you and restore you but you need to turn off the noise and slow down.  If resting is your specialty and you are more spectator than participator, friend get back in the race.  We rest awhile, not forever. There are tasks God has uniquely gifted you to do.  Your voice and testimony matters, and your fear, or age, or feeling of inadequacy does not.  Your sense of purpose may be restored by more action, not less.

This is the key:  ‘We must learn to value the hidden life.’ 

Those were the words from a pastor that turned my heart toward purposeful change. To those of you with little ones charging through the house with an inexhaustible supply of energy, I salute you.  You are in the season of relentless service, and real rest can be difficult to find.  My ‘hidden life’ at the time, was hard to tend.  I longed for a deeply rooted and well-watered faith that would keep me solid and steady when everything else was not.  I still do.  I have found that deep faith grows not only from overcoming huge obstacles, but more from simply walking with Jesus one sacred step at a time.

Our driven, fast-paced culture wants us to believe that we will produce more if we do more.  Scripture teaches that we will produce more if we rest more in Christ (John 15:5).  It is only here that we discover who Jesus is, and who we are because of Him.  That truth changes everything about how we value and spend our days. 

Be unapologetic about getting a good night’s sleep, find times to walk, read and pray.  Most importantly, rest awhile.  Restore your soul.  The quiet morning works for me.  It may be that your work commute, gym time, fishing pole, or garden provides that place for you. 

“Since Jesus places a high priority on rest, you can know that you’ve got exit ramps all along your journey.  Look for them. They’re invitations and provisions directly from him.  He knows what will fill your soul, and He invites you to rest in Him, to catch your breath, to find direction, and to gain fresh perspective when you need one.” (Susie Larson, Your Sacred Yes)

I took one of those ‘exit ramps’ recently to Asheville, North Carolina and was refreshed with family time and sweet rest in my brother’s mountain home.  It is a place of ridiculous beauty.  I shamelessly took advantage of their hospitality. I drank lattes, ate yummy, yummy things and plunked my weary self on their balcony to let my soul rest up.  


Many of us find summer to be a time for rest from work and a change of pace. I pray that it will be that for you.  Also, that it will be a time for you to deepen your walk with the Lord and to find new strength at the feet of Christ.  If you find yourself weary today, hear the tender invitation of Jesus to come away to a quiet place and rest awhile.



The Lord replied, “My presence will go with you and I will give you rest.”  Exodus 33:14

"Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28