God's Dogs

 

 Dear Blog,

I've wanted to write you many times. There has been so many curious things that have happened. But to describe them, how?

Like all the best bits of fairy tales, I see the beautiful curious wonders showing themselves to me. And I'm left wondering...

If I were to describe in music how I feel, and how curious the world around me feels. This music would be what I would write. Dream garden song

For me, the mirror has shown me so many reflections, some beautiful, some not so beautiful.

And I wonder....

But behind what it is I see, I know the beauty is there. Hidden.

Waiting to rise to the surface like cream.

Part of me feels overwhelmed.

How to write down that which matters the very most? That which reflects the truth, beyond even those things that seem magical. And strange. 

To write what is best. 

To write something, as if the whole world was reading it, and remembering something they'd long forgotten.

And so, here I am, wondering where do I start? 

If I were to write in peace, and harmony, and love into the pages and story of this life, I would.

If words could point to the place where I am not separate from you, and we are here, together, side by side, in this chapel, using words to point to the place that exists in everyone, and everything.

That is how I would want to use words.

I pray spirit makes up the difference, so that if you looked here, in this garden, you would find yourself, and you'd find your own heart, your own deep truth, growing inside you.

Some part of you that you'd lost.

Found, growing here. 

A truth.

Reflected for you to see.

And you'd remember your own inner beauty, so much so, you'd start to see it in everyone. And we'd all start giving that reflection away.

 God's dogs, the title, because my mom said Someone needs to write a book with that name. Plus, it seems when we tell this story, the story about the fire chief, someone cries.

So, ever since the puppies were born, the puppies have been quite the adventure. Turning on water, and getting into paint, and just being apart of our lives, so much so they seem like they have always been here. They used to get along with the cats, but now the cats enjoy teasing the puppies. So I’ll randomly hear the puppies all barking in unison as they chase the cats. They sound like geese flying overhead, as they bark, like funny, birds, that call out over and over again. Bess and I come out to them at all times of day, to love them.They are very hard on my clothes. And my skin on my chin is a bit scratched.

They love getting milk when we milk goats, and they love getting various treats from my chicken bucket. Old carrots, and the other day, they had fun eating pieces of pineapple, and apple, and some old sourdough bread. They like to snitch my very holey shoes, and make more holes in them. Yesterday they took one, while I was barefoot at the milk-stand, and hid one under our pile of old bikes.

They are such funny bugs. They are always digging, and with the rain, they usually have the funniest dirt covered hairy noses. 

Because there are so many of them, I like to ask them to sit down, before I pick one of them up. And it’s so cute, because you know which ones want to be held, because they’ll usually sit down. Not always, but quite often, they will. They are also fun to talk about. Bess and I will just randomly start talking about them, their funny personalities, like they are kids, or children.

They tore apart an old recliner we had out there, and it was quite a mess. Still is, but Bess and I managed to haul the couch off because there wasn’t much couch left.

Bess and I have taken some of the puppies a few places, to give love to our friends, and neighbors, but nobody has really responded to the add I made. And they are getting quite big. 

Nine puppies is a lot of puppies to care for. So we felt like it was time for some of them to find new homes.

Last Friday, there was a big anniversary sale across from our local quality market. They do this Easter sale, where they have hotdogs, and cotton candy, and ice cream, and give away free groceries to people who stand on the right number.

We thought that this would be a great time to see if anybody would like some puppies. Prior to Friday, a man responded to one of our goat adds, and came to buy six goats to learn roping, for his kids for Easter. We were very happy about that. He was a nice man, and kind of looked like Jesus. At least, his eyes looked what I would imagine them to look like. He was covered in white paint. I asked him if he was a painter, and he said yep. He felt respectful, and helped us get all six goats into the trailer, and paid what we had asked, and it was so nice.  I felt like this was a good prequel to finding our dogs homes.

 On Saturday, Bess and I bathed five of our dogs, and loaded them up into a kennel in the back of our car. Our mom made a big For sale sign. We went to the dollar store and bought some collars with little bells on, to put on the puppies, because it made them look cuter. The lady at the check out stand, seemed very sad, so sad in fact that it really bothered me, and my sister. We usually can get people to talk, and smile, even a little. And we couldn’t with this lady. I made a note that she needed something. But I wasn’t sure what.

Then we parked near the store where they were doing Easter celebrations.  Hoping to get the puppies seen.

They were giving a way free balloons, so I attached a purple, a blue, and an orange balloon to the kennel we were keeping the dogs in. We and sat on the grass on the side of the road.

                It had been raining all week, but the sun came out, and the weather was just right. Not too cold, and not too hot.

                We brought some of our musical instruments, and singing bowls so we wouldn’t get bored while waiting for people to show up and look at the puppies. We’d play them, randomly, and the dogs weren’t sure what to think.

                The odd thing was, it felt like it wasn't until either Bessie or I moved, did new people come and look. And then when we had people looking, more came, so many that we were glad that there were two of us.

If there was a dry patch with no people.  Bessie would get up to stretch her legs, or walk a puppy, and then people would come.

                And the same thing would happen when I got up and moved around for a moment, and came back.

                Like we’d opened a door, and let someone in.

                It was weird.

                But it happened nearly every time.

                And what an assortment of people came. Lots of people from out of town.  We told them the price of the dogs was 400.00

But most everyone seemed like it was too much, so we would always add, or best offer.

                And the people that came, felt like they came in pairs. Wearing matching t-shirts, or names that were uncannily alike.

                And most of the people just wanted to hold a puppy. And they would just cuddle them for a long time, and talk.

And Bess and I would look at them, and the puppies. And it was a beautiful thing, because puppies are such a beautiful gift, where, for a moment, you can feel people's hearts open as they hold them. And so we'd all see each other for minute. And we'd ask their names, and they'd tell us, and then sometimes they'd tell us stories about their lives, or their dogs. 

And it was mostly a seeing, and a looking. And the puppies got held by so many people. Never in my life have I felt more like what a missionary must feel like. A missionary of unconditional puppy love.

                Where it felt like instead of selling puppies, we were just looking at each other. And for a moment, there was this open heart. Where love was seen.

                And we were all just looking at each other.

                Learning to love the way a puppy loves.

                Giving a seeing freely to everyone.

         

                And one women very esoteric, and full of moon tattoos, wearing these most elaborate pants with a tree, with a sun and a moon on either side. With words written on her arms.

                Another women came from sheering sheep, with long trailers parked along the side of the road. She didn’t want to hold a puppy because she already had dog.

                But I offered her to hold one, and she did, and loved it anyway.

                There were many people. So many people with stories they wanted to tell. So many words.

                One lady wanted a puppy for a 100 dollars. She didn't take long to choose, and I was wanting to make sure the dog was right for her. But she really wanted our black puppy, with white paws--Tux, so we said alright. She wanted a dog for her farm.  I hope he is loved.

                Another lady came along in a motorized wheelchair. She loved our dog, Lady. She seemed like a good soul, and left for a bit to get some money, and came back, and took Lady with her

                She paid 120, and was so happy to have a dog friend.

                Bess and I hoped she could care for our rambunctious puppy.

                The sun was hot. And there were so many people, and so many children wanting to hold the puppies. The dogs were getting tired, and so were we.

There was so many people. 

To love.

And accept. And say, I see you. Rainbows of people. Of all shapes and sizes. 

My sister, and I loving, as best we knew how, together.

                By the time we got home, we were both exhausted, and hot and tired. And my body felt super hot again. This was a high energy day, and it felt like we’d had so much sun energy, and people energy, and it was just intense. A lot of people seeing, and a lot of looking.

                How strange and interesting, are all God’s reflections.

                I was very tired, but my body felt so hot. So we went out with the puppies again, to decompress, and played with them, and so did Bess.

                Afterward, we went for a walk on the muddy ground, with bare toes, and I felt much better, not so hot. Like the hot energy had cooled down.

                When I laid down to sleep, I slept like a log---or a dog. I was so tired. So tired, that I just kept on sleeping---a very, sound, deep, sleep.

                I woke up much later than I was supposed to. As we had told many people we were going to be there selling puppies at the same place, at noon, as several people wanted to think about getting puppy, and maybe come back.  

My sister had a headache, and wasn’t feeling well, and had been working all morning on getting ready. I felt bad about that.

   Then I was flooded with an overwhelming sorrow for the puppies we had sold.  Bess and I loved each one. And the thought of the rest of them going to homes that might not love them was too much. To give away our pals, and friends, and reflectors of love, was devastating. 

                Tears ensued, and there were many tears, and I had a harder time getting ready.

                So I slowed us down again.

                And to top it off, it was looking very stormy outside.

                We ended up getting there a little later.

                But the clouds weren’t dumping yet.

                We stopped to buy more collars, and prior to going there, I had asked my mom to write a card for the lady at the check-stand.

             

   When we checked out, I gave her a little package with the handmade card in, with a note written by my mom.

The girl looked confused, and a little happy.

                And I felt glad.

                When we got to our patch of grass by the grocery store, we parked in the same place. Across from the dollar general.

                I went inside, and got some balloons, a white, and pink, and light purple I think. It looked a bit like baby shower colors. But it was all they had at the time. I also bought some dog chews, and also came back with a clerk who wanted to see the puppies.

                Either way, there were a few people who stopped and looked, and held the puppies.

                But it was a colder day. A day that wasn’t really inviting to be outside.

                By n’ by, a old truck pulled up and parked on the curb, and old man, wearing slippers stepped out.

                He looked frail, and a little shaky on his feet. He approached us, and looked with eager eyes at Pickles, my sister’s favorite dog.

  He said he was a retired Fire chief.

And I noted that some of our dogs did look like fire dogs--- dalmatians.

Especially pickles with all his spots.

                I asked him why dalmatians are associated with fireman, because I had genuinely wondered this and didn't know why.

                He laughed, and told me an in depth story about it. To abbreviate, he said that way back, a dalmatian got trapped in a fire, and the fireman rescued it.

                And it became their mascot.

              Bess talked with the fire chief, and we could both see, he was set on getting Pickles.

                But said he didn’t have much money, and wanted to check his wallet.

                So Bessie walked with him back to his car, and helped steady him while he walked.

I stayed back a ways, and watched while I held Pickles. I could feel a lump of sadness in my throat as I watched. I knew this man wanted pickles.

And I didn’t want him to take him.

So the conversation that went on with Bessie, and the man went on something like this.

                He had cancer, his wife had just died a month ago, and so had his dog. He had been really looking for a dog, but couldn't find one.

                He doesn’t usually drive, and if he does, someone drives him. But today, he woke up, and decided to go on an adventure, and drive himself, and he came to town and saw our puppy sign, and decided to go to the dollar store and he bought a very small bag of puppy food, sure that he was going to get a puppy from us.

                He been trying to find a dog for a good while. He said he was beginning to think the man upstairs had forgotten him. He had wanted a dog so much. He told Bessie, he didn’t have a hundred dollars, but he’d go to his bank and get what he could.

                We waited in the car with the puppies, because it was getting cold, and started to drip a bit of rain. Wondering if the man would come back, hoping he wouldn’t, because we both loved Pickles, and weren’t sure the man could take care of himself, much less a puppy.

                And we loved Pickles so.

                And yet, the man came back. He pulled up into the parking lot.

                I noted that his tire looked on the low side. And I start wondering…many things.

                Should we sell our friend…our child to this person??

                The man rolls down his window, as we stepped up to it with our puppy.

                He pulled out his monies, and counted it with trembling hands.

                “This is all I have in my bank account. I live on a fixed income, and I’ll get more later.”

                It was, twenty eight dollars, to be exact.

                That was all he had.

                The price for Pickles, Bessie's best friend.

                Bessie looks at the man, and the money, and her eyes got big.

                “Will you take good care of him, we both ask? Will he be inside dog, or an outside dog?”

                The man smiles, “Oh he’ll be my constant companion wherever I go. He will be with me 90% of time.”

                Bess and I both wondered if the puppy will be able to adjust to the cheaper dog food the man bought, as Bess had been getting really high quality food for them.

               " So," she said, “you know you can feed him eggs, and stuff you eat too.”

                He smiles, and seemed very happy to have a dog that would eat with him.

                Both Bess and I didn’t want to take his money.

                But we knew he wanted to pay what he could.

                He did want a puppy. So very much. And he wanted to own it, even if he had very little to offer in exchange. 

              But at that moment. It was all that he had. 

            A widower's mite, might. 

                Bessie said, that standing above the man, with his window rolled down, and his money in his hands, eager eyes, and eager heart. She said, she felt like she could have exacted the law at that moment, and felt very powerful. And we could have both turned him away.

                And yet....

    The most real, and true thing we both know. The most powerful force that wakes the dead, and brings sight to the blind.

            Grace.

            Love.

                We have all been this man....

                We have all been the witness...

                And the one who could exact the law.

                But, underlying all laws.

                The highest law.     

                IS Love.

                Here.

                Grace.

                The mirror that day, asked us if we could see the truth beyond what was seen.

                This man who had only 28 dollars to offer for our beloved friend.

                And this man, clearly had good heart. I could feel it.

                A fire chief.

                Who wanted a dalmatian.

                A friend.

                And so, Bessie and I gave our puppy one last hug.

                And then placed him in the arms of a stranger, the retired fire chief.

                As she headed Pickles over, Bess burst into tears, huge beautiful, tears of love.

                I had already cried that morning, cried for our puppies, and so many things.  Feeling numb.

                The fire chief, turned on the water.

                And tears came.

                And rain. So much rain started pouring down, from the sky.

                We watched as he pulled away,

Confused. 

We went into the store, and Bessie was crying still, so much so the clerk wanted to hear the story. And it made the clerk want to cry too. She said that one said her dog just died, and that she might want to see our puppies.

And so, we went home, because it was too rainy to stay.

Wondering at God's reflection that day. He came as a frail man.

Alone, with so very little to his name.  But with a good heart. Disguised as a retired fire chief, alone, and very poor, looking for dog to keep him company.

Pickles.

And we all of us get into so many Pickles that require grace.

And so, I wonder, as life happens all around me. 

As we all get into various Pickles. To see, that grace has got you covered, even when you fall short.

And to have the courage of heart to love God in all his and her forms. To have the courage to love as beautifully as God must love us.

Who gives away love, unconditionally, who sends out love puppies---his beautiful children into the world, to families, of all shapes and sizes, no matter who they are, hoping that his puppies are loved, that they have good homes, that some day, the love will return, and find it’s way back home, somehow. 

I had very much wanted to turn the Fire chief away, but Bessie, gave him a chance.

She is always teaching me.

And so…

I see these are not our dogs.

They are God’s dogs.

I said at the beginning they were rescue dogs.

And though it’s incredibly painful to let go, yet again, of something I love. I know love is only good if you let it go, and give it away.

We still have six dogs left….

I know that all that is good, and loving, and beautiful, is only that way, because it was given away.

So, as these are God’s dogs, a bouquet of unconditional love.

I hope to hand out these flowers of love, just as freely, and generously as God gives his love.

I hope that grace falls on us like rain, and puts out the fires of judgment, and all things that burn too hot. So that we can get to the marrow, to the truth of our being, to the unity beyond what we see, hear, taste and touch. The truth of our souls. To clearer and clearer seeing. To unity of our hearts.

And we keep as our mascot a spotted dalmatian, and a retired fire chief in the back of our minds, to remind us that at these moments that life hands to us, are a gift to help see ourselves, and each-other better. 

We, at one point, have been the old man, giving everything we have in our bank account. Knowing we have come up short, for that which we most desire. And we also have been the one who must give the puppy away.

And we have been the one witnessing it.

And we have been that puppy. That love. Going where where God asks.

And how beautiful it is.  Grace, giving us her most beloved puppy. Hoping we’ll take care of it. Hoping we’ll love the love she instilled into the gift. Hoping her love has a good home in us.

And so, as we are sometimes the man seeking the gift.

Or the one imparting it.

I pray, that we look with discerning eyes, and we all give what we have to God, to love, to the grace surrounding us, so we all can remember the man upstairs is there.

God is real.

Love, grace, and truth, are the realest forces on this earth. They are the realest highest good I know. They never die, and live on long after the ephemeral passes away.

And knowing this is enough.

That Spirit makes up the difference.

Grace just asks you to give what you can.

On Sunday, I felt very much like the old man in the dilapidated truck. Rolling down his window, and counting my last monies.

I was afraid. And felt tired. Also, there was family there watching, and people who had known me since I was a kid. Teachers.

I sat listening to the sacrament prayer, and they are supposed to say each word correctly, or they have to repeat it. 

Both times, on the bread, and water, the prayer wasn't uttered perfectly. So they had to repeat it twice. I said in my mind, it's alright, you don't have to get it perfect. 

And so...to test my own declaration, it seems playing flute with the choir, in front of everyone, near the place where they do sacrament. My mind just blanked, and couldn’t find my place for a good while. I gave what I could, but I felt so inadequate.

                I had practiced so well all week. And yet…

                And here I am, Giving God my last change.

            Uttering my own music prayer to God.

                And I felt like I’d come up short.

                I felt such shame, old feelings, so raw, and real,  I wanted so much to do well, for many reasons.

                When I sat down, afterward, I had hard time looking up.

                Feeling shame is a hard thing.  Either way, I was stewing in my own feelings of inadequacy.

                When the meeting ended, though, I was wondering how I could exit without anyone seeing me.

                But before I could ponder further, the meeting ended, we were flooded with people, kind ones, ones that were so sweet. A lady behind me, said she did music, but didn’t read music notes. That she made up a song, her family sang, and wanted to send my sister and I her song.

                So she did, and I thought it was beautiful. Something to teach me, yet again. Here’s the song.

 

                And then after that, the choir directors family who I’d done music with a few weeks ago, engulfed me, and my sister in their bubble of love, and I felt pulled back from wallowing in my own shame juices. I felt so loved. And felt apart of their family for a moment. And that was such a grace for me. To feel loved, and her children gathered round me, and told me how much they loved the flute part. And that warmed my heart.

                And then a little while after the meeting when I was home, the man who had given us tickets to the dance group last Saturday, showed up with a little picture frame, with corrugated metal behind it, with Christ in the middle.

                Very much like a mirror, a wavy one. And I felt that grace gave me a better picture that day, because I felt very much like that wavy metal, not able to see myself very clearly.

                And Grace was there at that meeting.

                And Grace showed me Christ.

                A reflection, of love.

                So, whatever your puppies may be.

                Whatever it is you have, in God’s eyes, it is enough.

                And though you may wonder…

    As so many faces, and forms appear before you, and you wonder if you can see yourself, your true self reflected there, and you send out love, again, and again, as best you know how.

Even though you feel not enough.

                Grace shows you a different picture.

                Grace puts out fires.

                Grace waters the ground.

                Grace makes up the difference.

                As you count out your last pennies.

                As you give God your last notes.

                Your air.

                Your sound.

                And you feel lacking in some way.

                Grace sends you a picture of Christ, covering your choppy waves.

              

  There is Christ.

And here is Christ.

  See the mirror.

  Christ is covering us all.  

Showing us the deeper truth.

Love waking us all up. One by one. We rise. The body of Christ. The eyes, the hands, the feet, the heart the head. See it. The undying spirit of Christ living in us, living through us.  The living word. The true power of undying devotion of love, and goodness, waking up our spiritual eyes, and our spiritual ears, and our spiritual heart.

A knowing that lives on, and rises, again, and again.

An aurora of love.

See Christ reflected in all God's children.   

Hear.

Feel the pulse of your heart echoed in another.

See the face of the beloved echoed in friends, and strangers.

Know from the top of your crown, to the soul of your feet that Christ is king. And his kingdom is here. Living inside you.

See the reflection, and give it away.

Now.

Love rising