"We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults. Heaven has accorded this to us in the uncritical canine attachment." ~George Eliot

He was just a dog.  He came to live with our family in 2001, when he was about a year old, and he came with "issues."  When we tried to play with him, he would cower, and tuck his tail.  We think he was probably punished for playing as a puppy.  Jeff finally gained his trust enough that Buster would occasionally play a game of tug, but he always did so with his tail tucked - he never quite got over his anxiety in that way.

But even though he wouldn't play, he was great at cuddling.  His favorite place to be was in someone's lap, or curled up against someone's back as they slept.

He loved his kids, but they left every day and went to school.  Buster never liked to be left alone, so he soon became "my" dog - he followed me everywhere I went, always underfoot.  Sometimes I would accidentally step on him, he would yelp, but immediately come wriggling over to me, wagging his tail, as if to say, "It's ok - I know you didn't mean it!"  When I would be cooking in the kitchen, he would curl up and sleep on the mat by the sink.  He usually slept in his bed in our bathroom, but when Jeff was gone out of town overnight, Buster would curl up right next to my side of the bed, as if to say, "I don't want you to be lonely, and I'm here to protect you."

 Next to sleeping and staying close by my side, Buster's favorite thing was to go for walks.  The kids would get him all pumped up by asking him, "Do you want to go for a walk?"  And Buster would excitedly turn circles by the door until the walk ensued.

He also enjoyed getting the newspaper every morning back in the days when we subscribed to the printed newspaper.  Jeff would ask him if he was ready to go get the paper, and his reaction was the same as described above.

He was just a dog.  But he was our dog - my dog - for 15 years.  During those years, the kids grew up and left home, other dogs (and hamsters) came and went, we experienced sickness and death, joy and celebration, and Buster was there through it all.   He loved us - his family.  Whenever we would "horse around," tickling or wrestling with each other, Buster would bark and growl as if he was worried that someone was seriously getting hurt.  And no matter how long (or short) we were gone from home, Buster always greeted us on our return like it was the happiest moment of his life.

Last week we said goodbye to Buster.  He had declined in health over the past few years - he was deaf, mostly blind, and had quit eating.  He wasn't able to go on walks anymore, or even cuddle with his humans.  He slept most of the time, and when he was awake, he seemed to be uncomfortable.  He no longer ran to the door to greet us - most of the time, he wasn't even aware we had left.  So last week, we did the merciful thing, and we let him go.

Yes, he was just a dog.  An animal.  But I sure have missed him this week.  Buster taught me a lot in his 15 years.  I couldn't find the source of this quote, but think about "what a beautiful world it would be if people had hearts like dogs."  What if I enjoyed every little moment to the fullest, even something as simple as going outside to get the newspaper?  And what if a walk around the neighborhood invoked the same wonder in me?  Imagine how it might help if I could silently snuggle up with someone I love in a moment of hurt when words fail me?  Or how it might make someone feel if I quietly walked by their side in the difficulties of life?  Wouldn't it be wonderful if, when we get "stepped on" by others, we could immediately forgive, not holding a grudge, and forget - REALLY forget it ever happened?  And if we were fiercely protective of each other, think about the hurt feelings we could avoid.

Robin Davidson wrote, "The Lord in His wisdom gave us three things to make us to make life bearable; humor, hope and dogs.  But the greatest was dogs."  I think God gave us much more than that to not only make life bearable, but enjoyable.  And I'm not sure I would go so far as to say the greatest of those was dogs.  But they do have their place, and I'm thankful God gave us our four-legged, furry companions.  Especially Buster.  He was just a dog, but he served us well.  Rest easy, old friend.

"Tears are words the heart can't express." ~Author Unknown

She led our small Bible study group in prayer, and as she did so, she began to cry.  The rest of us had our heads bowed and eyes closed, so we couldn't see her tears, but her voice gave it away.  I was touched by her emotion, and she and I talked later about tears and the vulnerability they bring when we openly display them publicly.  Offering such accessibility of our hearts to others can be scary.  Especially for those of us who tend to be more introverted.

To be vulnerable is "to be susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm." And those of us who fear this vulnerability will go to great lengths to hide our tears from others.  But after considering the conversation I had with my young friend, and the ease with which she shares her emotions, I have to wonder why . . .

Laughing tears, photo © Rose-Lynn Fisher
Used with permission

There is some debate among "experts," but most evidence in nature indicates that humans are the only beings who express emotion through tears.  And I thought it was very interesting when I ran across this article about a photographer who captured microscopic photographs of human tears.  Rose-Lynn Fisher photographed over 100 tears, including tears of grief, joy, laughter and irritation.  The photographs are amazing, and show visual differences in our tears, depending on the impetus that produced them.  Not only that, but the essence of the chemical make-up varies depending on the emotion - "Emotional tears, for instance, have been found to contain protein-based hormones including the neurotransmitter leucine enkephalin, a natural painkiller that is released when the body is under stress."  Amazing!

As I read the above noted article and looked through the photos of Ms. Fisher's work, one of my favorite passages of Scripture came to mind, and with these considerations means even more to me now ...

Psalm 56:8 - "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?"  In Albert Barnes commentary on this verse, he ties this to the custom in those days of "lachrymatories," or small bottles that were used during times of mourning.  When someone passed from this life, friends would gather and wipe the tears from the faces of the mourners, squeeze them into a bottle, and they were preserved as a memorial.  Not only does the Psalmist indicate that God collects our tears in a bottle, but He also records them in His book - further indication that the tears we shed are not only noticed, but they are remembered by God - they are important to Him.  What a comforting image!

We see this very thing in practice throughout Scripture.  For example, in 2 Kings 20:5, after Hezekiah has been told he will soon die, and he has prayed with "bitter tears" for more time, God tells Isaiah to “Turn back, and say to Hezekiah the leader of my people, Thus says the LORD, the God of David your father: I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears. Behold, I will heal you. On the third day you shall go up to the house of the LORD,..."  

Our God sees our tears and collects them in His bottle.  He remembers.  He writes them in His book.  He hears our prayers and responds in love.  And I believe that God not only sees our tears of sadness and grief, but He also notes our tears of laughter and joy.  If He has made them structurally and chemically different, each one must be important to Him.

I know many who are hurting right now.  Some are mourning the loss of loved ones.  Others are mourning the loss of health.  Many are empathizing through tears for loved ones battling serious disease.  Others are shedding tears of joy and relief over answered prayers.  God sees them all, and that thought leads me to tears of thanksgiving.

Washington Irving wrote, "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love."

I'm thankful for my young friend who is so easily moved to tears.  She teaches me to allow myself to be more vulnerable in that way.  So, the next time you are moved to tears, don't be tempted to try to hide them.  Let them flow, knowing that God notices each one, and is collecting them all as a remembrance.  Our tears not only move us, but they touch the Heart of the One who made them.

"The world is as many times new as there are children in our lives." ~Robert Brault

Last night our doorbell rang, and this is what awaited us when we answered, with an enthusiastic, simultaneous greeting of "Trick-or-Treat!" 

 No, it isn't Halloween yet, but that didn't matter to the miniature sized Mickey and Minnie who came to visit last night.  And it didn't matter to us, either.  These two (and their parents) came to claim some candy, but what they gave far exceeded what they took with them.  These sweet bundles of smiles, giggles, cuddles, and energy made my day.


"While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about."  ~Angela Schwindt

We can learn so much from the children in our lives!

Children teach us to live in the moment. 
From the time they arrived until they left, our early Halloween celebrators enjoyed every second.  I let them fill their own bags, and they were unreserved in taking all that they wanted.  They played with Buster, explored the house, pinged on the piano, played staring games with Mr. Jeff, and little Minnie Mouse ate candy . . . LOTS of it!  They didn't worry about the things that inhibit us as adults.  Minnie Mouse had no concerns at all about potential for weight gain and blood sugar spikes, nor did she consider that the large candy consumption might cause a tummy ache later on.  And while I would not recommend following her lead in that regard, wouldn't life be sweeter if we would stop and savor THIS moment?  Slow down and really enjoy that bite of candy, or the laughter in our home, or the staring games, or something as simple as petting the dog, instead of thinking ahead to the responsibilities or concerns that come tomorrow.  Or even later on today.  

Children teach us to slow down.   Last Sunday evening, some other little friends came over with their parents.  This family consists of parents, two boys, and a girl.  While the older brothers were doing what older brothers do, and the parents were busy with caring for all three, this sweet two-year-old precious was in her own little world.  She found my stuffed frog and some Jenga blocks, and retreated into her happy place where stuffed frogs build amazing structures, and carry on intelligent conversations, completely oblivious to brothers who are practicing karate moves nearby.  This little one had no cares at all about what would happen tomorrow, or even in the next minute, for that matter.  How long has it been since I slowed down to "play"?  That piano I mentioned earlier sits mostly untouched in my living room - except when little hands find their way there.  I took seven years of piano lessons while I was growing up, but I seldom find the time to sit down and play anymore.  Life gets in the way.  Maybe I need to slow down like my little friend, Etta, and not let life rob me of the simple pleasures.

Children teach us to forgive fully.  Last week, I got to spend some time playing with my little Mickey and Minnie friends.  It's been a very long time since I pitched a baseball, but Hollis wanted to bat, so I pitched . . . and did a pretty sorry job.  But he didn't care.  He would run after them, and hit them anyway.  And you know what?  He didn't even mention that last night.  And on a much larger scale,  how many times did I mess up in much bigger ways with my own kids while they were growing up, but they always forgave me.  I can remember times when I would apologize with tears in my eyes to those sweet, innocent children I often felt so ill-equipped to parent, and their response was always to lovingly put their little arms around me, and say, "It's ok, Mommy." They forgave. Completely.  Which means they gave me another chance, and didn't hold it against me, or bring it up later on.  How much better life would be if we could carry that kind of forgiveness into adulthood.

These are just a few things that immediately come to mind -- there are so many others that time and space prevent me from sharing here . . . But, I'm sure you can fill in those blanks.

As I step into this next phase of life as a Mimi, I'm thankful for sweet Lydia who will remind me vividly and often of the lessons of childhood.  And I'm thankful as well for all of my little friends who teach me so much, and who enrich my life in so many ways.  Walt Streightiff wrote, "There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million."  And Cathy Nutbrown rightly observed, "Pausing to listen to an airplane in the sky, stooping to watch a ladybug on a plant, sitting on a rock to watch the waves crash over the quayside — children have their own agendas and timescales. As they find out more about their world and their place in it, they work hard not to let adults hurry them. We need to hear their voices."  

So for today, live in the moment, slow down, and forgive fully.  Make friends of little ones.  They will teach you more than you will teach them, and they will remind you in vivid ways of what is truly important in life.  

"Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man." ~Rabindranath Tagore

"Becoming a grandmother is wonderful. One moment you’re just a mother. The next you are all-wise and prehistoric". ~Pam Brown

The text message from Ryan came at 3:50 am, and it simply said, "We're headed to the hospital.  Sarah's water just broke."  I immediately climbed out of bed and headed to the shower.  This was the moment we had been eagerly anticipating for months - Lydia's birth day had arrived!  I was about to be a Mimi!  Finally!!  And while I expected the excitement and joy I instantly felt, I was completely unprepared for the wave of emotions that enveloped me as I stepped into the shower.  My child - MY baby - was at that moment enduring the pain of childbirth.  MY baby was having a baby, and the tears began to flow.  I was reminded once again of something I've known since September 21, 1990 - my heart is so wrapped around the hearts of my children, that when they hurt, so do I.  Literally.

Jeff (aka Pappy) and I were soon packed and on our way to Houston, and Ryan continued to update us by text message as we traveled.  Things progressed rapidly, and as we were walking in the door of the hospital, we got the final message, "Welcome, Lydia Grace Renz!" with a photo of new mother and baby.  And the tears flowed again - tears of joy, excitement,... and relief.  I will never forget the first time I saw Lydia and held her in my arms, as Lydia's mother - my daughter - looked on with tears rolling down her face.

The past few weeks have been such a blessing, as I was able to stay in Houston to help out the new parents, and enjoy some very sweet Mimi moments.  I made a conscious effort to soak in every single Mimi experience - changing diapers, giving Lydia her first bath, kissing those sweet cheeks, and my very favorite Mimi/Lydia newborn time - rocking her, especially between the hours of midnight and 3 am, when it was just the two of us.  (In fact, the first night she slept after her midnight feeding and didn't need rocking, I was a little sad!  I think her parents thought Mimi was crazy!)

Bath time

Sweet baby snuggles

My precious midnight view

But as sweet as those Mimi/Lydia moments are, there are other experiences from the past few weeks that I treasure equally.  Rajneesh wrote, "The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." On September 21, 1990, Sarah was born into this world, and I was blessed to be able to be there on September 29, 2015 when her other birth occurred - Sarah was born into a mother.

I've watched in awe as my baby loves, cherishes, and gets to know her baby.  I've been taken back in time as I remember learning with Sarah (and Becca) the things she is now learning with Lydia - how to be a mother.  I must say, Lydia has been blessed with one of the best ever!  And now, the bond I have with Sarah is even stronger, as she truly KNOWS how I love her, because she loves Lydia the same way.  I've also observed the new love of a Pappy, an Aunt B, and an Uncle Caleb - all of which speaks volumes of the deep love of our family.  And I've smiled as I've watched Lydia's wonderful daddy, and the new love he is experiencing, which has reminded me of another new daddy and his twin girls 25 years ago.  How blessed we all are.

What a wonderful experience my past few weeks have been, as I have been introduced to a whole new love with sweet Lydia, and grown in love for Sarah - my daughter who is now a mother.  And it's only just begun!  I have had major separation anxiety since returning home, and I miss them both terribly.  I look forward to being with them again, but until that happens I will be thankful for this other blessing I just enjoyed . . . a Facetime call from Lydia and her mommy.

"Perfect love does not come until the first grandchild."  ~Welsh Proverb

"Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch." ~E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

"What letter are you on?"  I've been hearing that question from family and friends over the past seven months or so.  As Sarah has been growing a baby, I have been stitching a blanket for that precious little one - an alphabet blanket.  Each square is cross-stitched with a letter of the alphabet and corresponding baby animal.  And each letter takes an average of fifteen hours to complete - some more, and some less.  

Once I finish the letters, I will add her name and birth date in the remaining two squares.  So once I've completed it, I will have spent over 400 hours of cross-stitching Lydia's blanket.  As you might guess, this blanket, along with the necessary stitching supplies, has become an extension of myself.  It has gone with me to doctor's office waiting rooms, traveled several times with me to Dallas, a few times to College Station, and it has also made a few trips with me to Houston.  Back in June, Lydia's blanket even went with me to Canada.  

I have stitched while watching old episodes of Gilmore Girls, several seasons of Downton Abbey, and many Texas Ranger's games.  I have also stitched while visiting with family and friends.  But most of my stitching time when I am alone has been spent in quiet meditation, as I think about the precious child that will soon be wrapped in this blanket.  

Those quiet, alone thoughts as my hands steadily stitch have led to hours of prayer for sweet Lydia.  I have prayed for her good health and safety as she grows and will soon make the transition from womb to world.   I have prayed for her heart - that she will always have a tender heart to godly instruction, and that she will grow up to be a blessing in this world and a strong force for God.  I've stitched while praying for her mama and daddy, as they are about to embark on the most important journey of their lives.  And I've prayed for myself and Jeff, and all of those who will love her and have an influence in her life - that we will all help to steer her toward God.  As all of us do, I know that Lydia will have difficult days and tests of her faith in this life - I have prayed about those times as well, that she will grow and learn from them, and always be full of faith, and joy.

"What letter are you on?"  If you ask me that question today, I will tell you "X."  And as I complete these last few letters, Sarah is completing her last few weeks of nurturing Lydia inside of her womb.  The blanket will soon be finished, and Lydia will soon arrive in this world, but the prayers will continue.  

I've been told by others who have already crossed into the life of grandparent-hood that nothing compares, and it is truly indescribable - I cannot wait to experience those feelings first-hand, to hold sweet Lydia in my arms, and to make lots of fun memories with her as she grows.  And with her birth just weeks away, my excitement and anticipation grows with each passing day.

I better get busy - I have about 50 hours of stitching (and praying) to go.

"If a friend is in trouble, don’t annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it." ~Edgar Watson Howe

"Only Luke is with me."  These are the words penned by the Apostle Paul to Timothy (2 Tim. 4:11), as Paul wrote to the young evangelist from a Roman prison.  It was the last of Paul's letters.  Although we have no inspired record of Paul's death, most historians agree that he was beheaded in Rome in the mid-60's - shortly after writing this letter.

Last words are always important.  And as I read the end of 2 Timothy, especially verses 9 through 22, Paul's reflective thoughts are moving.  Especially that short sentence mentioning Luke - "Only Luke is with me."  

Our Wednesday evening study in Acts last night turned my thoughts to Luke.  As we began chapter 27, that little pronoun "we" appeared again.  As the writer of Acts, Luke tells us when he is involved in the action by using that simple indicator.

Paul was a prisoner, and was being sent with other prisoners to Rome.  It was curious to me that Luke was joining him - why would the Roman authorities even allow Luke to accompany Paul under these circumstances?  From my reading, it appears that it was unheard of in this age for a prisoner to be allowed to have companions, and I found only two ways that the Roman authorities would have permitted this - either Luke (and Aristarchus, who also accompanied Paul to Rome) would have to take the position as Paul's slaves, or Festus (the procurator before whom Paul had his final hearing in Acts 25) allowed it, believing in Paul's innocence, and thinking that by showing kindness to Paul, Caesar would look favorably upon Festus.

Regardless of why it was allowed, to me the more pressing question is why would Luke WANT to accompany a band of prisoners on a dangerous voyage by ship?  I think the answer to that is found in Paul's statement of 2 Timothy 4:11 - "Only Luke is with me."  Those five words speak volumes.  As Paul concludes his letter to the Colossians, he mentions Luke in verse 14 as sending greetings, along with Demas.  Likewise, in Paul's letter to Philemon (vs 24), he sends greetings from Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke. But by the time we get to the end of Paul's last letter, we learn that Demas had forsaken Paul, going back to the ways of the world.  Others had traveled to various areas, likely to preach the gospel, and that "Only Luke is with me."

There's a lot we can say about Luke.  Luke is the only gospel writer to give us the account of the birth of John the Baptist, as well as the birth and early life of Jesus.  Only in Luke's gospel can we read the life-changing parables Jesus taught of the Good Samaritan, the rich fool, and the wonderful trio of lost and found - the lost sheep, lost coin, and prodigal son.  Without Luke, we wouldn't know about the rich man and Lazarus, nor would we have insight into the conversation Jesus had with the thief on the cross.

But what I want to focus on here is that Luke was Paul's constant friend.  He could be counted on.  He would not leave, no matter what life brought.  He was willing and eager to go through the storms of life to love and support his friend, even at his own peril.

I hope you have a friend like Luke.  I am blessed with several.  But more important than having that kind of friend, I need to ask myself am I that kind of friend to others?  Can I be counted on?  Do others look at me as someone they can call on to help them weather the storms of life?  When one of my friends is in a bind, are they immediately comfortable dialing my number, or do they hesitate?  When asked if I would accompany them through a difficult journey, perhaps putting myself in peril, would my friends automatically think of me as the friend who would do that for them?

I've written a lot lately about our relationships with one another - being kind, understanding, looking beneath the surface, building relationships, and opening ourselves up to others.  As I continue to think about that, and strive to grow in those areas, I now add another dimension.  I want to be a Luke, don't you?  I can think of no greater compliment or blessing than to have just one person say, "Only Tracy is with me."

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." ~Henri Nouwen

"Sometimes I think it should be a rule of war that you have to see somebody up close and get to know him before you can shoot him." ~M*A*S*H, Colonel Potter

The feeder hangs in front of our kitchen window, and I watch them in awe every time we sit down at the table to eat.  The hummingbirds.  Our feeder has four holes - it is quite capable of serving four hummingbirds at any given time.  And yet, they fight.  Sometimes they spend so much time trying to keep each other away from the feeder, that it appears they actually feed very little.

This behavior fascinates me, so I did some reading about hummingbirds.  As observed, hummingbirds are not very social at all - they live very solitary lives, coming together only to mate.  Their mating ritual typically takes four seconds, after which the female will build a nest to care for her young, while the male leaves to pursue other interests.  Hummingbirds are very aggressive, and will fight each other to protect their "territory."  Female hummingbirds will become quite aggressive toward any male who approaches her nest.

Solitary.  Alone.  And while God created them this way for a purpose, from a human perspective, it is quite sad.  When we are sitting at our kitchen table observing their aggressiveness toward each other, I often say to Jeff, "Why can't they just get along?"

In stark contrast to our backyard hummingbird friends, we have two other feeders that contain birdseed, and these feeders are frequented by several Red Cardinals.  These birds behave quite differently - sometimes we will see three or more birds perched on one feeder, sharing a meal together.

Further reading on Cardinals was fascinating as well.  I learned that Cardinal pairs mate for life, and stay together year-round.  During their courtship, the male will bring food to the female and feed her beak to beak.  After mating, this feeding ritual often continues while the eggs are in the nest.  Cardinal couples sometimes sing together before nesting, and when building the nest, they also work together - the male will bring materials to the female, and she will do most of the building.  As many as four broods can be raised each year, with the male caring for and feeding the young offspring as the female incubates the next brood.

Which bird am I more like?  I have to admit, sometimes it's easier to be a hummingbird - to retreat into my own little world, to be combative, to protect my "territory," and to always be looking at others with a skeptical eye, wondering what they are after.  But being a Cardinal is so much more rewarding.  Yes, it comes with risks - I can be rejected or get hurt, or even be taken advantage of.  But I will also enjoy rich relationships, as my life is filled with other people and their love.

Being a cardinal takes time and effort.  I like the quote that I used as the title of this blog entry - isn't it true that it's a lot easier to "shoot" someone that we don't "see up close" or "get to know"?  We often criticize or judge someone when we have no idea what is going on in their world.  We dart around in attack mode, assigning motives, perhaps thinking they are out to get us, when in reality they are just trying to survive like we all are.

My last several entries here have been about relationships, and I continue to write about that because it is so important.  We can't be hummingbirds and be pleasing to God.  If my research is correct, there are 59 "one another" passages in the New Testament.  Here's a small sampling:

“…Be at peace with each other.” (Mark 9:50)

 “…Wash one another’s feet.” (John 13:14)

 “Be devoted to one another in brotherly love…” (Romans 12:10)

“…Honor one another above yourselves. (Romans 12:10)

“Live in harmony with one another…” (Romans 12:16)

“…Love one another…” (Romans 13:8)

“…Stop passing judgment on one another.” (Romans 14:13)

“Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you…” (Romans 15:7)

“…Instruct one another.” (Romans 15:14)

“Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” (Ephesians 5:21)

“…In humility consider others better than yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)

And repeatedly in the Gospel of John and the first Epistle of John, the phrase "love one another" is used.  Over and over again.  I cannot do this if my focus is solely on myself.

Be a cardinal.  Interact with others.  Welcome someone into your "nest."  Sing.  Share a meal.  Get to know others, especially in your church family - I mean REALLY get to know them.  You will be blessed, and God will be pleased.