Tag: love

“But let’s admit it: it can be hard to stay on a balance point. We go through cycles of feeling anxious, feeling guilty, feeling resentment, feeling rebellious, and then feeling relief when we identify a worse sinner than ourselves. We’re unstable, I think, because it is so hard to grasp how absolute God’s side of the relationship is. He loves us, even while we are sinners, and nothing can halt or deflect the force of his love. He is love, and his love fills the universe. It comes entirely from him, and knows no limits. It takes no notice of whether we are are lovable or not, whether we want him to love us or not. He will love us no matter what, and nothing can stop him.”

—Frederica Mathewes-Green, Welcome to the Orthodox Church

(Bold emphasis added by me.)

Thirty years

Thirty years ago today.

Feels like the blink of an eye some times.

Given the journey together up to now, the next 30 years should be interesting to say the least! Love you, Kelly!

First date, 32 years ago today.



At our friend Keith’s 50th birthday party, and the restaurant is on Lake Lewisville. Had to get a sunset shot with my sweetheart.




Rest in peace, sweet Winston

Since the fall of 1991, when my fiancée-now-wife and I got a black kitten with lottery winnings, there has not been a night in our home without a pet in it. Until now.

Since early 1992—with the exception of an approximately one-month window—when we purchased a Pembroke Welsh Corgi puppy from a local breeder, there has not been a night in our home without a dog in it. Until now.

Winston, our sweet Corgi

Today we said good-bye to our sweet Winston. The slow kidney failure that had plagued him for nearly a year finally caught up, and it was time to let him go.

This one hits our family a little differently than the other two dogs we’ve had. With our first, Linus, it was just me and my wife, no kids, and we were quite devastated when his time with us was cut short from a tumor on his stomach. Our rebound dog, a Shar-Pei/Pit bull/couple-of-other-breeds mutt, Clancy, was equally sweet, and very protective of our firstborn when we brought him home from the hospital. But Winston was the first dog who truly had his boy. And our oldest was the first of us to truly have his dog.

A boy and his dog

Winston joined our family when our oldest was four. A friend who fostered dogs for the local humane society, and lived in the same neighborhood as us, knew of our love of Corgis from Linus. She called us one day to say, “I have a Corgi at my house.” She was informed we’d be over shortly. The first day was our meeting Winston; the name was one given to him by the humane society, and we liked it so we kept it. The second day was Winston meeting Clancy on neutral ground there in the neighborhood. That went well enough that the next day Winston spent the night at our house to see how he’d get along with the two cats and the general goings-on of our household. That was a Friday, and Saturday was going to be his first day of availability to be adopted from the humane society. They were having a big event at our local pet store. Winston did not make an appearance.

I will not forget the look on the humane society volunteer’s face when we told her we were there to adopt a dog, she asked which one, we told her, and she got confused that we didn’t have a dog with us. “Where is he?” she asked.

“At our house,” I replied with a smile. And then she got the above story, we got paperwork to fill out, the humane society got a check, and we had a second dog in the house.

When it was time for this ultimate decision to be made for Winston, there were many tears from all the humans in the household, but especially from our oldest. In my wife’s words, he and Winston were “two peas in a pod”. Bad day at school? Go lie down with Winston for some puppy therapy. Bad game on the ice? Go lie down with Winston for some puppy therapy. Mad at your parents because you’re a teenager who’s trying to figure out who he is and you’re bumping up against the boundaries of authority? Go lie down with Winston for some puppy therapy.

A boy and his dog. A dog and his boy.

I was with Linus and Clancy each when their time came, and there was no hesitation on my part that I would do the same for Winston. I left the decision on whether he wanted to be there as well to my oldest. There was no hesitation on his part, either.

Winston rode in his boy’s lap on the drive from our house to the vet’s office. He stuck his nose out the window a few times to sniff the air. He got lots of love and was talked to constantly.

Last ride together

It took both of us to gingerly get him down from his perch on his boy’s lap to the ground. He had developed arthritis in his left back leg on top of all the internal turmoil he was enduring. He had to be helped over the curb from the parking lot to the grass surrounding the office. But he spent his last moments before being led inside by a tech sniffing the ground, exploring a relatively unknown space, and dutifully doing his business and making his mark.

When the moment came, there were many tears from me and my son. There was also a new pain and sadness to consider, one I hadn’t experienced with our other two dogs: the pain a parent feels seeing such sadness of loss from his child. Sadly, I know this will not be the last time for that, but such is life.

Untitled

We thanked God for bringing Winston into our home. We thanked Him for the love that poured forth between this sweet little, teddy-bear puppy and the humans he shared an abode with. We offered our hope to Him that we be reunited some day.

Until that day, I will miss you, sweet Winston. I love you.

Beautiful Feet: Let’s Be Real. Really.

Beautiful Feet: Let’s Be Real. Really.

“Abby and I sat back and marveled, recounting how Jesus also went through lots of difficult moments in his life. How he chose to become human and experience a world full of harshness. He didn’t remain aloof, or skirt over touchy issues. He dug into people’s messy, broken, dirty lives and loved them with a perfect heart. And when his friend Lazarus died, Jesus wept. Jesus was real.

"Abby and I talked of the blessings God has given each of us.

"God loved us enough to become a man and ultimately conquer sin and death in order for us to be with him forever. (Hello, Good News!)”

Whispers in my ear

Whispers in my ear

Hope

Max Lucado:

We are not much different than burdened travelers, are we? We roll in the mud of self-pity in the very shadow of the cross. We piously ask for his will and then have the audacity to pout if everything doesn’t go our way. If we would just remember the heavenly body that awaits us, we’d stop complaining that he hasn’t healed this earthly one.

Our problem is not so much that God doesn’t give us what we hope for as it is that we don’t know the right thing for which to hope. (You may want to read that sentence again.)

Dancing in the Minefields

Andrew Peterson’s latest single. Great song.

Knowing who we are

Andrew Farley, The Naked Gospel:

Sometimes we see ourselves as sinners in the loving arms of a God who is pretending not to see us as we really are. In our minds, maybe God is wearing a pair of “Jesus glasses” that hides our true state from his vision. We find it difficult to grasp the idea that God calls us righteous because we actually are righteous. It feels more humble to believe that we’re filthy worms awaiting a future change into beautiful butterflies.

Jesus stated it best. He said that our righteousness must surpass that of the Pharisees in order to enter the kingdom (Matthew 5:20). So if we Christians don’t claim to possess perfect righteousness, we’re lowering God’s standard. We’re watering down the gospel. We insinuate that Jesus can unite himself with sin. And we insult the perfection of God.

Only perfection will do. This is precisely why God had to make us perfectly righteous in our human spirits through our own death, burial, and resurrection. With its apparent humility, this filthy worm theology appeals to the flesh. But God certainly doesn’t condone our wallowing in poor self-image.

The risen Christ doesn’t join himself to filthy worms. The Holy Spirit doesn’t dwell in dirty sinners. Christ only unites himself with those who are like him in spirit. The Holy Spirit doesn’t reside in someone who remains even 1 percent flawed by sin.

But we’ve been perfectly cleansed. And we’ve been made perfectly righteous at our core through spiritual surgery. This is the only way we can enjoy even a moment of relationship with Jesus Christ.
I have often used the same analogy Farley mentions above, of God looking at us through “Jesus-colored glasses,” and I realize I may have been incomplete in my explanation in the past.
Not to be repetitive with Farley’s own elaboration, but my meaning has always been that when God sees a believer, he sees perfection, as when he sees Jesus. As when he sees himself.
This is who we are, fellow Christians. We have no need to add to it. It’s impossible for us to do so. There is no magic checklist we can look at to see how our perfecting is going. At the same time it is ongoing, it’s also already done. Why can we not accept that? What are we afraid of?
Knowing who we are, righteous before a perfect and holy God, should fill us with hope. A hope we should be passing on to our fellow man.
Know who you are. Be who you are. Not to lord it over others, as the Church has too often been wont to do for years, but to show God’s love to the world. He has chosen to work through us, and we should joyfully allow Him to do so.