Yearly Archives: 2012

No Bones About It

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My dog Jack has his own following, and we frequently run into members of his fan club as we take our walks around the neighborhood. It’s not unusual for an oncoming car to stop just ahead of us, its driver hopping out to make contact. “Oh, Jack! I’m so glad to see you!”

The list of those who love him doesn’t end at the gate to our neighborhood, either. If I take him to the bank, tellers Ann and Cathy always have treats ready, even if we’re in the drive-through. When they spot his profile in the back seat, the tube-traveling canister quickly brings a bone right out to him.

Like most dogs, Jack shows appreciation by tail-wagging. We’ve learned to read his wags and have them categorized: high, medium, and low. Maybe it’s because he’s got a thick tail, but most of his wags are mediums and lows. Whatever the reason, a high wag is saved for only the best of friends.

One of Jack’s many fans stands above the rest, someone who receives lots of high wags. Her name is Karen, and she lives just around the corner from us. Karen loves dogs and often babysits for other people’s canines. But she keeps a special box of Milk Bones in her kitchen just for Jack.

Every time we walk near Karen’s house, Jack begins watching for her, his head turned and eyes glued to the front door, even after we’ve passed. If Karen sees us going by, she comes outside ready to give hugs, back rubs, kisses, and a bone to her furry friend. He loves her back with enthusiasm.

But Karen does even better than that. She faithfully leaves a bone on her front step for him. From the street Jack looks, wags, and strains at his leash, pleading to “go to Karen’s.” When I unclick him, he runs to her front door, stepping over the treat, in hopes of getting to her. If she doesn’t appear, he heads back for his treat. What he really wants, though, is Karen.

Jack has never doubted the strength of her love for him. If he didn’t know how to wag, she’d love him anyway, and he knows that. If he was hot and tired, unable to head for her porch, she’d come to the street to greet him. It doesn’t matter to her how Jack behaves. She loves him no matter what.

This relationship is a sterling example of exactly how the Lord loves all of us. It’s a no-matter-what kind of love that never wavers, regardless of what we do. The question is, do we love him back as enthusiastically as Jack loves Karen?

After a few minutes with her, I re-leash Jack and tug him toward home. But he always looks back longingly for just one more glimpse of the one who loves him so well, the one he enthusiastically loves back in return.

“Let your unfailing love surround us, Lord, for our hope is in you alone.” (Psalm 33:22)

Hip Hop

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I used to have a green thumb. Mom was an enthusiastic gardener who’s skill at tending things made it all grow, and she tutored me. For decades my Illinois gardens were happy.

Since moving to Michigan, however, I haven’t done as well. I thought my yellow cottage could resemble a Thomas Kincaid painting if I hung flowering window boxes, so I bought 3 of them. Their northern exposure meant 100% shade, but I figured impatiens or begonias would work.

I tried both over 2 consecutive summers, but the boxes never looked good. Last year I purchased new groups of plants 3 times over, but saw the demise of all 3 sets. This year, though, I have a fool proof plan. Blossoms are guaranteed, because the flowers I planted are… artificial. Their label bragged they could fool anyone, so yesterday, the day before my Sunday brunch for 14, I brought the 3 window boxes into the house to set them up with white flowers and beautiful plastic asparagus fern.

While I assembled gardening tools, the 3 window boxes (full of last year’s moist potting soil) sat on my dining room table, and when I came back, I got a big surprise. The table was alive with critters who’d been living in the window boxes while it wintered behind the evergreens.

There were roly-poly bugs, ants, spiders, and several earth worms making their way across my table, exploring their new surroundings. I knew my brunch guests wouldn’t appreciate critters crawling over their feet or (gulp) their coffee cake, so had to move fast.

In keeping with my policy of never harming an outdoor creature when it’s outside but signing its death warrant inside, I started with the spiders, then finished off everything else except the worms. They received grace and were relocated in the yard.

After that, the plastic planting proceeded without a hitch except when a frog suddenly jumped out of the third window box. About the size of a plum, he startled me but quickly hopped to the table, chair, and floor, ultimately finding shelter next to a table leg. After making several unsuccessful grabs, I laced myself through the chairs trying to put a hand over him, but he always stayed one hop ahead of me.

In a way his moves imitated what I sometimes do when I hop away from God’s plans to carry me out of one of the messes I’ve made, favoring my own route out. He has every intention of liberating me, but when I pray for his direction and he responds with a protective hand over me, I jump right out from under it. Then when I get into trouble a few hops later, I beg him for rescue.

The frog didn’t know I had a good plan to carry him back outdoors. And because he wouldn’t let me hold him, he might have signed his own death warrant. Although I kept trying to catch him, in the end he completely disappeared.

Thirty-six hours later, I still haven’t found him.

“Listen to advice and accept instruction, that you may gain wisdom in the future.” (Proverbs 19:20)

Misinformed

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Although I’m not much of a traveler, I’m beginning to learn the ins and outs of Southwest Airlines. Unlike American, United, and others, Southwest has “open seating,” which means no one can choose their spot ahead of time. As ticket holders receive their boarding passes, they check for an important letter:     A, B, or C.

If it’s A, lucky you.

You get to board first and pick any seat you want. The C people are the unluckys, having to squeeze into leftover spots here and there between passengers who were hoping you’d sit somewhere else.

I’ve always viewed the A group with boarding-pass envy, wondering why I inevitably rated a C. Finally I asked an A how she did it. It turned out “good grades” were the prize for winning a cyberspace game: be the first to check-in online.

For my next flight, I entered the competition for an A slot. Each of 3 attempts flashed the “Oops!” screen, but once the computer clock moved into that golden 24 hour zone just before my flight’s departure, the check-in click worked. And when my boarding pass emerged from the printer, it had a big A on it!

What a satisfying feeling to finally be part of the privileged pick-your-seat A-people. As I waited in the A-wave of passengers, I tried not to look over at those holding B and C boarding passes, knowing they were eying me with envy. How lovely to be holding an A.

Scripture isn’t big on A-passes and actually promotes the C’s. One day Jesus’ disciples were mourning all they’d given up to follow him when he assured them brighter days were coming. Future first/last places would have nothing to do with earthly firsts/lasts but would be just the opposite. He told them, “Being in the C group now is setting yourself up to one day be in the A’s.”

This was hard to believe, and Jesus knew it. He told them several stories to push his point, and today we can do whatever we want with those. He knew putting ourselves last would go against our natural egotism but continued to insist that being last was the only sure way to get ahead.

As I surrendered my A-pass and boarded the plane, I surveyed scores of empty seats, choosing a window spot in the second row. “First on, first off,” I thought with smug satisfaction. “And a wall to lean on for a nap.”

Gradually the plane filled as flight attendants announced it would be a full aircraft. And wouldn’t you know, the last C boarding pass belonged to the biggest passenger. I don’t have to tell you which seat (and a half) he wedged himself into. As nearby A-people sent sympathetic glances my way, I learned that even an A-level boarding pass can lead to a C-quality seat.

“Jesus said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all.” (Mark 9:35)