I Gave Jesus Water Yesterday

 Yes, you read that correctly. 

It was another sunny, relatively hot day, but there was still a cool breeze from the night before, so Elliot and I were off to dog park. We got there around 11 a.m. and  only one other vehicle was there, a motorcycle.  Looking closer,  I saw a person folded over the seat; one half  of their body was on one side, the upper half on the other. The dog park is a very large area surrounded by desert on one side,  soccer fields on another side, and then  bordered by the highway.  

 I parked, let Elliot out, and shut my car door,  still no movement from whoever it was next to me. My first thought was to ask if they were okay. But it was a very disturbing sight, so I decided that may not be the safest move.

I kept looking back as I walked down the hill to the fenced area. No movement....nothing! The whole vibe was very unnerving ! Thoughts were racing through my head as I kept turning around, looking for movement, or any sign of life. By the time I was in the dog park, I was wondering if maybe the person might be dead.  Still, not a soul in sight. 

Elliot was running, playing, and barking at me to throw the ball, noticing I was preoccupied with the strange situation and not him. As I looked back again, the person was now sitting up, straddling the bike. "Good," I thought, "maybe he's rested and will leave!" But he didn't.

Fear slowly crept in like fog. The more time that passed, the more this sense of foreboding grew. And then, all the sprinklers came on with their high pressure jets.  I decided it was time to leave  rather than get absolutely drenched  - which meant decision time.

I got to my car, let Elliot in, but kept the doors open. (I always feel safer with my dog.) The guy was now huddled over the top of his bike, in the 90+ degree sun, with a jacket over his head. My sweet sister Debbie answered when I called,  and after telling her what was going on, she encouraged me to see if he was okay, so apprehensively I approached.

"Scuse me", nothing. Again a little louder, nothing. The third time, even louder and he slowly sat up. He didn't look good. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay" he hesitantly replied 

"You don't look okay. Do you have water?"

Thoughtfully he said, "I did."

I told him he was probably dehydrated, and gave him two bottles of water, which he gulped own. "Where are you from?" I asked and as he told me, he tapped the gas tank.

"Oh, you're out of gas?"

"I have less than a forth left."

"Wait here, I'll get you cash."

Humbly he asked, "You'd do that?" 

"Of course." I replied.

I returned, gave him $20, a large bottle of water, introduced myself, shook his hand, and he introduced himself.

"Please get in some shade and take care of yourself. I'll be praying for your safety ".

And I left. 

Matthew 25:31-46: Jesus says, in essence, that he was hungry and they gave him no food, thirsty and they gave him no drink, a stranger and they did not welcome him, and so on. He then explains that whatever they failed to do for “the least of these,” they failed to do for him.

I used to tell my students, "Always move towards love." I took the risk, eventually ignored my fear and, for once, I practiced what I preach. I'm grateful because I know I could have been in his place, I've seen some rough times. 

I'm grateful to my sister, Debbie, for encouraging me to do the loving thing. Do I feel good??? OF COURSE?  Am I bragging? I would be if the whole point was not the moral of this story - which is, always move towards love. 

Love to you all, thanks for reading, and yes, be careful out there. 

Hope Against Hope?

 Ignorance is bliss....so I've heard. The sad fact is, I know too much at this stage of  life to hide myself in that cloud. 

It’s a serene, deep-blue day in Phoenix. Outside my window: beige and brown foothills, green trees, yellow and red flowers, and dreamy terracotta rooftops. It has a melancholy beauty. On days like this it looks like rain, but usually it usually doesn't. And the lingering heat goes on.

Change is inevitable. So many progressions, so many regressions in my home country- and change is accelerating with every new day. I never did like those fast, risky carnival rides, scared the hell out of me. Give me a merry-go-round with the glitzy horses and simple melodies. Maybe that's why I wake up with the tiniest bit of anxiety. Call me Chicken Little, but this time I really do believe the sky is falling.

Here’s the paradox: humans have made astonishing advances in technology and medicine, yet we remain so fragile. Rats, roaches and flies can survive tremendous heat, storms and poison. Humans can't.

At my age, knowing what I've learned, feeling what I've felt, I’ve become extremely sensitive to suffering—human, animal and even insect.

To be fair, I intensely dislike roaches, flies and fire ants. Fire ants have declared war on my feet and left scars. And rats? I’d prefer they all be kangaroo rats—harmless, adorable, and trying to survive in their own habitat, not mine. 

Still, I'd much rather have rats, roaches, flies and fire ants than this devastating administration. I believe their greed and lust for power is eating through our country like rats in an abandoned house full.  This administration is rabid; full of disease, poison and murder. 

Once while praying, I asked God how he saw me. Immediately Saint Francis came to mind. Not the saint part, the part where he talked to animals and other living things.  I love talking to birds. Especially the black birds. They remember faces. Give me animals over humans any time. They're far more interesting than people. And most of the time, I believe, they're far more intelligent too. They just don't speak your native tongue. Animals are truly a light in this time of darkness, they bring me joy.

Yes, I know too much to take refuge in ignorance. I hope against hope, that one morning I still hope that one morning I'll wake and this whole dark cloud will be lifting. Now, it's hovering with hopelessness. Unless of course, you have been living in the shiny bubble of white privilege. 

Sending love to all who read, whether you understand or not- and thank you.

P. S. As I type a minuscule of raindrops appeared on my window; deep, rolling thunder as well. Hope against hope???? 

What Remains

 Having a dog is a way to hang on to all the love you had to let go. 

A first love who broke your heart.

A childhood pet who was hit by a car.

The one you thought was your friend, but wasn't.

Your first car that took you places, showed you the big world.

Having a dog is a way to hang on to all you lost

A father who suddenly died too soon.

Trust that was broken.

Ideals you once held.

A mother who taught you  love.

Yourself.

Religion that became like an exclusive club.

A diamond that fell from its setting.

The beautiful daughter you wish you had loved much better...the joy of your life.

The son you wish you had loved better, who was your heart.

Your youth.

The idea you had more time.

The comforting belief that death was still far away.

A poem I've always loved, is a poignant way of expressing my thoughts thoroughly. But I'm changing one word...God ..... I'm turning it around.

The Girl That Lost Things 

There was a girl that lost things—

Nor only from her hand;

She lost, indeed—why, most things,

As if they had been sand!

She said, "But I must use them,

And can't look after all!

Indeed I did not lose them,

I only let them fall!"

That's how she lost her thimble,

It fell upon the floor:

Her eyes were very nimble

But she never saw it more.

And then she lost her dolly,

Her very doll of all!

That loss was far from jolly,

But worse things did befall.

She lost a ring of pearls

With a ruby in them set;

But the dearest girl of girls

Cried only, did not fret.

And then she lost her robin;

Ah, that was sorrow dire!

He hopped along, and—bob in—

Hopped bob into the fire!

And once she lost a kiss

As she came down the stair;

But that she did not miss,

For sure it was somewhere!

Just then she lost her heart too,

But did so well without it

She took that in good part too,

And said—not much about it.

But when she lost her health

She did feel rather poor,

Till in came loads of wealth

By quite another door!

And soon she lost a dimple

That was upon her cheek,

But that was very simple—

She was so thin and weak!

And then she lost her mother,

And thought that she was dead;

Sure there was not another

On whom to lay her head!

And then she lost her self—

But that she threw away;

And Dog upon its shelf

It carefully did lay.

And then she lost her sight,

And lost all hope to find it;

But a fountain-well of light

Came flashing up behind it.

At last she lost the world:

In a black and stormy wind

Away from her it whirled—

But the loss how could she mind?

For with it she lost her losses,

Her aching and her weeping,

Her pains and griefs and crosses,

And all things not worth keeping;

It left her with the lost things

Her heart had still been craving;

'Mong them she found—why, most things,

And all things worth the saving.

She found her precious mother,

Who not the least had died;

And then she found that other

Whose heart had hers inside.

And next she found the kiss

She lost upon the stair;

'Twas sweeter far, I guess,

For ripening in that air.

She found her self, all mended,

New-drest, and strong, and white;

She found her health, new-blended

With a radiant delight.

She found her little robin:

He made his wings go flap,

Came fluttering, and went bob in,

Went bob into her lap.

So, girls that cannot keep things,

Be patient till to-morrow;

And mind you don't bew

eep things

That are not worth such sorrow."

George MacDonald 

Having a dog is a way to hang on to all you've lost.

Not because a dog replaces what is gone.

But because all that love still needs somewhere to live.

And somehow, it finds a home in the heart of a dog.

 

 

Heavenly Day from Milo

 Just a short blog today. But I wanted to share...I dreamt of my boy Milo. I have had dreams about Tasha and Rosco, but I can't remember if I've had one about Milo. Usually, if I feel a "connection" in my dream, I don't forget it. This time I felt it!

The dream was incredibly special. And these types of dreams take me to a place, a place I can feel. Another place, another time, somewhere. It was just him and me. He ways laying as Milo always laid, frog like. I went up to him and stroked his back and sides and told him he was perfect, told him he had a perfect body. I was so happy. He looked so content. Rosco was lying next to him and I reached over and pet him. But I was focused on Milo. I remember saying how soft he was. How perfect.

I miss him so much. It's been over two years and my heart still aches. I believe when a dog dies, they take a bit of your heart, and you never, ever get it back. At least in this life. So many dogs and cats I've loved have gone on, and the love they gave me is permanent, is part of me. It's made me a better person.  Even though the aches, pains, and regrets...so many regrets...remain, the price is certainly worth it.

Hey Milo,

Thanks for the sweet visit last night. It shows me that you, your love, and your individuality didn't die, but will live forever. Because you own, and have taken, so much of my heart with you. Which means I'll live forever in your sweet little soul. 

I really believe that you sent Enzo and Elliot into our lives. Definitely you sent Elliot. For sure! I thank you for that. I hope that when I cross over, you'll gather all the dogs and cats  who have a part of my heart together to greet me. And you'll be in the lead...please lead them with Tasha by your side. Because she loved you so much. When you died, she wasn't the same. She died shortly after you, as Rosco did.

 God! I love you Milo.  Your life and death have taught me so much. I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way.  I really am. Could you tell the others the same? 

Love you my boy. Until we meet again,

Your mommy

She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts. George Elliot

The Anxiety of Loving Your Soul Dog

I've written about Elliot before. He's my soul dog. For those of you who need the definition, here's the best one I found:

"A soul dog refers to a dog with whom a person shares an emotionally deep connection, often described as a once in a lifetime bond. This relationship is characterized by a mutual understanding and profound impact on each other's lives."

Indeed!!! There are so many beautiful gifts this kind of relationship has to offer to the human and, of course, the dog. 

However, there are, of course, concerns. Deep concerns. For example: I'm retired, which means I'm retired and home 24/7. That's by choice, because I've learned that being a dog parent should be taken seriously.  Believe me, I take it seriously.

Which leads me to my dilemma.  My amazing twenty year old grandson dropped out of college to pursue his music career. (I'm so proud of him. It's a gutsy thing to do.) He became the lead singer and bass player of a band in Flagstaff, AZ. They have quickly become a local favorite and are now being paid for gigs. Recently, they landed a pretty big job as one of the bands playing at a huge venue, the Pepsi Arena in Flagstaff.  The whole family is going. 

Pets are not allowed at the arena and now we are looking for a trusted pet sitter. There's also Enzo to consider. But I believe Enzo will be fine. He'll warm up to a sitter, especially if she feeds him on time. Elliot will probably do the same; especially if lots of treats are involved.  

Yesterday my husband booked a hotel room for us and my anxiety level hit the roof. As the date is quickly approaching, the trepidation I feel is manifesting itself in thoughts of dread and "what if"s. "What if Enzo bites, or Elliot doesn't get his sun screen on his nose. What if they bark constantly ????" 

You get the picture. Yet, even writing this down helps ease the scenario  from certain trauma for all involved, to seeing the anxiety monster shrink and admit defeat.

Still...

So there ya have it. My grandson has such an amazing talent and anxiety about Elliot and Enzo aside, I'm beyond excited to hear him and watch him play. I hope I live to see his clear talent provide a living for him; a good living. And I hope that when I'm gone, he'll know that his Poppy was there, rooting for him the whole way up!

 

Dear Dad...

 Where are you when I need you??? I mean, there were a few times, right? ?  I could count on one hand really. But when the world is blowing up, a girl wants her dad to tell her that we'll survive.  But, it was mom who was always there for me, not you. 

Still, I feel like that little girl during the Cuban Missle Crisis. You were serious and wouldn't talk about it around us. You seemed to carry the load. But the load is so much heavier now, and I'm an adult carrying the load. I have no idea how to carry this one!!!

This is short today. I've said all that I can. So, I'll end with a DMB song... course.

"The world is blowing up

The world is caving in

The world has lost her way again

But you are here with me

But you are here with me

Makes it ok

[Verse 1]

I hear you still talk to me

As if you're sitting in that dusty chair

Makes the hours easier to bare

I know despite the years alone

I'll always listen to you sing your sweet song

And if it's all the same to you

I love you oh so well

Like a kid loves candy and fresh snow

Love you oh so well

'Nuff to fill up heaven overflow and fill hell."

The Haunting

 Dear Dave,

It's been 57 years since you died. What a horrible moment! A moment, a time of extreme anguish for so many. For me. It's taken me a lifetime to process the grief, the questions, the loss.

Since your death there have been so many moments, dreams and experiences that point to the idea you're still with me.  The word haunting means having qualities such as sadness or beauty that linger. It's not that scary definition I used to believe as a child, it's a quiet, sad, lingering feeling; it's a string of strange experiences that point to the idea that you're around, that you're still with me. If I listed them here, it would be too much to write at the moment. It would be a book in itself! 

So many dreams, songs that hit a place in my soul, vivid encounters that are incredibly 'other worldly'. Just for the sake of others who read this, I'll list one experience that was especially unexplainable. 

It was in the early 2000's, I was living in  Kansas City, when one day, while driving home from work during rush hour, on a busy street it was literally stop and go traffic.  In the lane next to me, on my left was a 1967 GTO. That's what you drove, a 1967 GTO.   Traffic was now moving slowly, around 25 mph.  There was a car behind the GTO, and the car behind it was ANOTHER 67'GTO. It felt, I felt, other worldy' for sure. I believed it was your way of saying that you're here.

Anyway, I know that we're connected. It just obviously  wasn't meant to be that we would share our lives together.  Yours was cut so short. I'll never understand why you were taken so young. Even in my intense grief, my 17 year old self, I felt the pain your mother must have felt, the pain your father felt, and the pain your brother Larry felt. 

In almost seven months I'll be 75. Unbelievable! I've been happily married for 50 years in July. (Well, some years were more difficult than others.) But since the day I met you, you have always been in my heart, in my soul.  

I had a dream last night about a friend of mine who is now gone. For some reason, one train of thought about the dead led to another, but those thoughts always, ALWAYS, wind up with you.

It's strange, because I can't say I miss you, but I can say I have always and will always wonder 'what if'. I'll alway have questions. One specific question is, was our young love really what I remember? Did you really love me? 

Two or three nights before you died, I broke up with you. Our relationship was turning real sour, toxic. We had been together close to two years.  Yet I mustered the courage to break up with you. I felt empowered when I did that, very sad, but empowered.  

Then, you called me the night before you died. I'd been here before; you were going to pursue me, I'd cave, and we would wind up getting back together.  But I told my sister, who answered the phone, to tell you I didn't want to see you again. That night, I had a dream that you were in a helicopter accident. The only person I told about that dream before you died was my father. 

The next night,  you were riding around in your friend's jeep. Mike was driving, he took a corner too fast, skidded, and you were both thrown from the jeep. You died at the scene of head injuries.  

The second question will always be, what would have happened if I had answered the phone that night. And no, I can honestly say I don't feel guilt, at least not most of the time. I just wonder. 

Well, I need to get back to my 74 year old life. I still love you, because love never dies, even imperfect love.

Will I see you again? That's the million dollar question, isn't it.

From my heart,

Peggy