“A Grandmother thinks of her grandchildren day and night, even when they are not with her. She will always love them more than anyone would understand.” ~Karen Gibbs

Last week I was in Houston amid boxes and tape as I helped my oldest prepare for her family's imminent move out of state.  This wasn't the first packing rodeo for me - far from it!  I've packed and moved our kids so many times, I'm considering opening my own packing business - "Mimi's Movers" has quite a ring to it, don't you think?  I have become quite proficient with bubble wrap and Sharpies, and to date I don't think we've lost a piece of glassware yet on my packing watch.

I thought I had experienced all of the "firsts" of leaving our kids and our kids leaving.  I remember the first day of Preschool when a three-year-old Caleb and I dropped his sisters off, and how all the way home he asked, "Mommy, where girls?" as I choked back tears; and then repeating the same thing the next year as we left them at Kindergarten for the first time.  Then I vividly remember how empty I felt the day I left Caleb at his first day of Kindergarten - what would I do with my time and no shadows?  I remember going to Walmart because I couldn't bear going back to an empty house, only to see lots of moms with their little ones shopping with them, which was actually worse than going home.  In all of those cases, though, we adjusted to our new normal.  But every year after that, the first day of school always brought a twinge of sadness to me, as it was a tangible milestone - another step in their growth and journey to independence.  Bittersweet.

I also remember the first time I left our girls at Florida College Missouri Camp - walking back up the sidewalk to the car as Becca sobbed, "Don't leave me here!"  It was a long drive back to Texas, but I later found out she was fine pretty much the minute after we left.  And then every year thereafter, I would miss them while they were at camp, but knew that it was good for them.  So good.  In fact, Caleb still goes!

And who can ever forget the first time of leaving your children at college?  I remember exactly how I felt the hot August afternoon when we descended the stairs at the girls' apartment and got into the car as a family of three, leaving behind the two who had made us parents.  It seemed like the most unnatural thing in the world to leave them there.  But we did, and two years later we did the same thing with their brother, and then we were back to two.  But we adjusted to that as well.  And they flourished and grew.

In the ensuing years we've had other firsts - we put two of them on an airplane at different times and watched as they left the country to study abroad.  Then they left college, taking jobs in other cities resulting in more moves - permanent addresses as opposed to the temporary college residences.  One moved back home for a short time and has now returned to school.  And we even added one by subtraction, as we permanently removed Sarah from our "payroll" by adding Ryan to our family.  We will be moving another one across her current town in December as we add to our family once again by marriage.

That's a lot of moves.  And a lot of change.  A lot of living, growing, and adjusting.  But this time - this move of Sarah's family - is different and new.  While I've moved my kids a lot of places over the past 25 years, this will be the first time that any of them have moved out of the great state of Texas.  For the first time ever (other than her brief stint in Costa Rica), it will take longer than three hours by car to get to her.

And then there's Lydia.  I'm still very new at this Mimi thing, but it really has been the BEST ten and a half months with the sweetest addition ever to my life!  It doesn't seem to lose its wonder - every interaction with her is ... well, I have no words!  I see so much of our ten-month-old Sarah in her - especially in her personality.  The way she loves books and baby dolls; how she is so very careful when she pulls up on the coffee table - ironically, the same one her mother pulled up on (which I think is going in a dumpster in Houston next week - don't be sad, it's time!); the way she loves to cuddle; and I could go on and on.  I know that distance will prevent us from seeing her as often as we have since her birth.  And that pulls at this Mimi's heartstrings.

But I've learned something through the years and all of the leaving.  It will be ok!  We will adjust.  We always do.  It could be worse.  And we will treasure even more the times we get to share.  Text pictures and Facetime calls will have new meaning and renewed appreciation.

As I go road trippin' next week with Sarah and Lydia to Nashville, help them unpack, and leave them in their new home to fly back to Texas, I am sure I will feel some sadness.  I've felt it before, and I'm sure I will feel it again!  But overriding the sadness will be so much gratitude - thankfulness for the relationship I have with my daughter that makes it hard to leave her; grateful for a son-in-law who seeks to provide what is best for his family; thankful that they are serving the Lord no matter where they live; and overwhelmingly blessed to be Mimi to that precious little soul.

Debra Ginsberg wrote, "Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”  And may I add grandchildren to that equation as well.  So if you see my "hearts" in Dallas or Nacogdoches - or soon in Nashville - give them a hug for me.  And the little piece of my heart that will be left here in Whitehouse could probably use one as well.

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"To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time." ~Clara Ortega

Our kids were all home for Memorial Day weekend, and I'm smart enough to know it's not just their parents or Mom's cooking that drew them here.  A big part of "us" is their relationship with each other.  Prior to that weekend, all three asked me, "When is everyone getting there?"  They couldn't wait to see each other.

In an article entitled "The Secret World of Siblings" published in the January 10, 1994 edition of U.S. News & World Report, Erica E. Goode wrote, "Sibling relationships — and 80 percent of Americans have at least one — outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust."

The sibling relationship is unique.  These three that began life in our home not only share common DNA, but they also share a common perspective.  They grew up together, and two of them even grew inside of me together.  From their earliest days - and childish conflicts - I made it a point to stress to them the unique nature of their relationships with one another.  I wanted them to grow up as best friends, and to maintain that closeness as adults.  I remember telling them that childhood friendships would come and go, but sisters and brothers were forever.  I would remind them that it would be their siblings who would be there when they got married, and those same people would be there when they had their babies.  And someday it will be the same three who will share the common experience and grief of burying their parents.  Now that they're grown, I love seeing the love they have for one another.

Yes, they have fun, and when they come together in our home, the walls reverberate with their laughter.  Certain things are assured when they're together - like the teasing Becca will get about how she's always cold, and how the girls will laugh hysterically at anything their brother does - along with rolling their eyes at times.  And we won't even talk about family games . . . All of that is loud, and boisterous, and fun, and all of that makes this mama smile.

But what I love even more than their jovial times together is the way they are fiercely protective of one another, and especially how they are touched by the events in the lives of each other.  Like the tears that flowed between a brother and sister during a private moment at Sarah's wedding - a moment that was captured by the photographer who later told me, "Your kids really love each other!"  Or the loving embrace between sisters when they first saw one another following Becca's engagement, when I could literally feel the bond that was there.  I have many other such moments in my memory, but these are two that are forever captured on film.  When I witness these moments - with or without a camera - they are always noticed, and nothing touches my heart more.

Now one of those three is about to move out of state with her own family, which will mean a greater geographical separation than they've ever experienced long term.  As family and friends have learned about the impending move, I've heard a lot about how difficult it will be for Jeff and me to have our grandbaby living so far away; and how it will be an exciting time for Sarah's family, but it will also be a time of adjustment for them.  While all of that is true, one of the things I haven't really heard anyone address is that strong sibling bond.  Perhaps that in itself is a sad commentary on the state of many sibling relationships today.  But I know my kids, and as happy as they all are for the new adventure for Sarah's family, this will not be an easy transition for any of them.

While that may appear to be sad, to me it's not.  To be honest, nothing brings me more joy!  That shared sorrow our three children have at the distant relocation of one of them, only speaks to the strength of their bonds with one another.  If they weren't close, they wouldn't care.  What a blessing.  A blessing for each of them, but also a very satisfying blessing for me as their mother.  I love how they love each other.  And I know that whether they all three live next door to each other, or end up on opposite sides of the country, that bond is unbreakable.

So when our next family gathering is planned and on the calendar, and each of them begins to ask, "When is everyone getting there?," I will smile, and thank God for the bond that brings them together - a unique bond borne of common parentage and upbringing, and solidified by the shared life goals they each have in Christ as children of God - a bond that will truly last forever.

“Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring - quite often the hard way.”  ~Pamela Dugdale

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies . . . Something your hand touched some way . . . It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.” ― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

 I have his harmonica.  He saved his money as a boy and ordered it from a catalog.  Once he received it in the mail, he told me that he would spend his summer evenings outside learning to play it.  I remember as a child listening to him play as we would sit in the swing on the patio - he could play anything you asked him to.  When I was probably 10 or 11 years old I asked him to teach me how to play it, and he did.  After his sudden and unexpected death almost 13 years ago, his harmonica was the one thing I most wanted of his possessions.  It now resides in a curio cabinet in our dining room.  I see it often, and occasionally I will take it from its spot on that shelf and play it a little.  The smell, the feel of it on my lips, and the sounds that emanate from it take me back to a very sweet place.  That little harmonica - which is probably worth very little, if anything, by the world's standards - is priceless to me.  It is a piece of my daddy.

 I also have his telescope.  He loved nature, and knew all about the stars and planets.  I can remember riding in the car with him at night long before we had compasses built into our vehicles, and if he wasn't sure of the direction we were going, he would look up at the stars to orient himself.  And while most people who take an interest in space and desire to get a closer look through a telescope would go out and purchase one, not my daddy.  No, he built one.  He purchased a book (which I now have) titled "How to Make a Telescope," and that's exactly what he did.  And when I say he built it, I mean from the ground up.  The only things he purchased that were ready-made were the viewfinder he attached to the outside of the barrel, and the eye-pieces.  I still remember my mother's annoyance as he used her pristine kitchen to grind the lenses and make the mirrors.  After he completed it, I remember many evenings of standing on a footstool to look through the eyepiece at stars and planets he had brought into focus and up close for me.  And on the few occasions we would experience a solar eclipse, he would use his telescope to project the image quite largely onto our garage door as all of the neighborhood kids would gather to watch.  That telescope now occupies space in our garage.  And while others might find value in it as a novel item, it holds special value to me.  My daddy's hands made it - it is a piece of him.  And the memories I have associated with his telescope are precious to me.

Not only was Daddy skilled at building scientific projects like a telescope, but he was also an incredible woodworking craftsman.  I have a shelf he built for me that hangs in our living room, and I also have a rocking cradle he made for us before the girls were born.  He designed the plans, carved the wood, put it together, carved a decorative "S" into the headboard, and varnished it.  It is beautifully crafted, and a special piece of furniture to me because my daddy made it.  All three of our children slept there as infants, and we also put Lydia there on a few of her early visits.  It made me smile to know that my daddy's cradle, crafted by his hands, held his first great-grandchild.  I know he would've loved that.

As much as Daddy loved nature and creating things with his hands, his greatest passion was books - especially the Bible.  I can still see him sitting in the patio swing, or in colder months in his living room rocking chair, with an opened book in his hands.  I have many of the books that he once read and enjoyed, but my favorite is a copy of the Bible that he put together for his own study.  He divided the text into five categories, placed them in binders, and he would highlight and write profuse notes as he studied the text.  As a young adult, I would often call him if I was studying a difficult passage and had a question to get his thoughts.  That is one of the things I have missed most about him since his passing - there are still days that I just wish I could call my daddy.  But he really left me the next best thing - his thoughts about God's word, penciled in his own handwriting.  I'm currently teaching a class of young ladies on Paul's letter to the Romans, and my daddy helped me study yesterday.  As I read his words written in his familiar script, I can hear his voice.  I'm thankful to have that piece of him still with me.

He left other things behind as well.  Like the gardening and landscaping skills he had which still live on in my mother's yard.  Or the paintings he created that still hang in her living room.  Pieces of him that remain.  I'm thankful for those tangible elements that help him to live on in my life.  But what I'm most thankful for as we approach another Father's Day is what he took with him - a deep faith in God, which led to a life of service in His kingdom.  October 6, 2003 was the day he spent his whole life preparing for - the day of his death.  I have no doubt that my daddy lives today in God's presence.  And I know that when I join him there, I won't miss the treasured "pieces" of him I have here, because we will share eternity in a place where we've never been more whole.  What a blessing.  How thankful I am to serve such a God who gives such hope.  And how blessed I was to call Bob Meadows my daddy.

"One father is more than a hundred schoolmasters."  ~George Herbert

“Being a mother is not about what you gave up to have a child, but what you’ve gained from having one.” ~Sunny Gupta

As I stepped outside to sweep off the front porch yesterday, my neighbor was riding by on her bicycle and she stopped to chat.  I walked to the street, and we briefly caught up on each other's lives.  Jane shared with me that her two oldest would be graduating from college over the next two weeks, and that all four of her children would be home for the summer.  I told her about our kids' latest happenings - and of course, the most PRECIOUS baby in the world, aka Lydia.  And as I turned to walk back inside the house I realized something - other than our initial brief exchange about last weekend's flooding, the entire conversation was about our kids.

I've thought about that a lot today, especially as I was out and about, and wished a "Happy Mother's Day" by several store clerks.  I've been a mother now for over half my life.  My children are grown and gone from home, and I wear other hats besides the "mom hat."  I am a wife, and I love this season of life with Jeff as "empty-nesters."  I have other responsibilities, friendships, and interests, but much of my identity is bound up in Sarah, Becca and Caleb - the three who have that unique relationship with me, their mom.

They have grown up.  They have left home, and have their own lives, homes, friends, and interests.

I miss the days of paper bouquets and Mother's Day school teas.  I miss the thrill in their eyes when they would present me with their special handmade gifts.  I miss the sloppy kisses, small armed hugs, and bedtime cuddles.  I miss the giggles, the noise, and even the childish tears.  I even miss the parent pick-up line at school - wait, did I really just say that?  And there's so much more . . . But if I allow myself to only dwell on what I miss from their childhoods, I would sadly lose sight of what I now have in place of those special times . . . 

 NOW, I have the hour-long phone calls from my Sarah like I enjoyed this morning, where we just catch up on life.  As we talk, I'm blessed to hear sweet Lydia in the background, as well as the sounds of Sarah getting their supper in the crock-pot. Not to mention that NOW I get daily Lydia pictures via text message.  I also get wonderful visits from time to time, when she brings her little family here and new memories are made.  And I smile, and thank God for NOW and this wonderful young lady who calls me "mom" and is serving God and loving her family.  And that our sweet little book-loving, tender-hearted, and giving Princess has grown into a strong, loving woman of God, who is also my friend.  

NOW I also have the phone calls from Becca.  Sometimes she might need a "pep talk" about an upcoming test, or advice on cooking a meal.  But more often she, like her sister, just calls to catch up.  I also NOW have the text messages from Becca, which usually drip with sarcasm.  And NOW I have the pleasure of seeing that our little, sensitive "Miss Grumpet" as we sometimes called her in her childhood has developed that compassion in a way that reaches out to help others.  She has found her "niche" in nursing, and will excel in that field.  And NOW I am blessed to hear people who know her and see her serving in her new church home tell me what a blessing she is to those around her.  NOW I thank God for our little Sweet Pea who has grown into a sensitive, caring young lady, who is also my friend.

And then there's the Caleb I have now!  Our boy is now a young man, and if he had stayed that little boy I would miss out on so much with him!  NOW I have his text messages and Facetime calls where he tells me about his day, and will often ask, "So what do you think?"  Now I have his "surprise" visits when he brings his dog here for the weekend, and am blessed to see the passion he has for every aspect of life.  NOW I hear good things about his service to God from others as well, and our little boy who never met a stranger is now a young man who continues to brighten the lives of others with his can-do attitude and his winning smile.  NOW I can thank God that our little Buddy Boy has grown into  a self-supporting, productive member of society, who serves God by using the talents he has been given.  And he is also my friend, who continually reminds me to enjoy THIS moment.

There's one more area that makes me smile NOW when I think of our children.  And that's their love for each other.  They talk to one another, and try to get together when they can.  Whenever I talk to one of them, no matter which one, we ALWAYS include discussion of the other two in our conversations.  They are fiercely protective of each other.  I love how they love each other NOW, in place of the childhood squabbles they sometimes experienced.

Even though my children are grown, I will be their mother until the day I die.  I continue to pray for each of them daily, as I have done since they were conceived.  And I will continue to feel the heights of their joys and the depths of their despair in a way I feel for no other.  Because of them, I am a better person than I ever could've been without them.  Because of them, I get to experience adding in other children via marriage, and I also get to experience the wonderful world of being a Mimi.  But perhaps most important, because of them, I have a little better understanding of the love God has for me - His child.  What a blessing.  Thank you, children - God gave me the best when He made me your mother.

"We hear a lot about identity theft when someone takes your wallet and pretends to be you and uses your credit cards. But the more serious identity theft is to get swallowed up in other people's definition of you." ~Stephen R. Covey

The letter came in the mail in late February with the return address of the Internal Revenue Service.  My first thought was that we were being audited.  If only . . . Instead, the letter was from the Fraud Division of the Treasury Department, and it was to inform us that someone had filed a fraudulent tax return for 2015 in our names.  Not only did the perpetrator have our names, but they also had our social security numbers.

Fortunately, the IRS caught the fraud.  They deleted the fraudulent return from their system, but our work had only begun.  We have had to go through a series of steps that began with our very own modern-day version of "To Tell the Truth," only the REAL Jeff and Tracy had to do much more than simply stand up.  The first step was verifying our identity online, answering a series of questions about ourselves that involved information about previous addresses and phone numbers.  We were even unsure about some of the information we were asked to verify - I mean, seriously - who remembers a phone number they had 20 years ago?  We apparently clicked something that was wrong, because we were informed that our identity could not be verified online, so we had to call a certain phone number.

If you've ever dealt with the IRS over a problem during the height of tax season, you know that making a connection with an actual person by phone is an exercise in patience.  But contact was finally made, and our identities were successfully verified.  That phone call was followed by another letter with more instructions.

You see, once this has happened to you, it is impossible to file your tax return online - it has to be mailed, along with a bunch of verifying information, including Identity Theft Affidavits.  Additionally, we were urged to file a complaint with the FTC, contact all three major credit bureaus to put a "fraud alert" on our accounts, and to closely monitor each one.  We even signed up with Lifelock to help prevent additional damage by the potential misuse of our personal information.

All of that takes time.  And ironically, in every single one of those steps, we have to PROVE that we are indeed who we say we are.  Sometimes that's not easy, and sometimes - all the time - it is annoyingly time consuming and frustrating.  But the time and expense are worth it - we've worked hard to develop good "credit names" over the course of our adult lives, and we want to protect those names at all costs!

The other day I ran across the quote by Stephen Covey that I used as the title for this post.  The thoughts expressed there, along with our recent identity theft problems, have made me think a lot about my name.  The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us that "a good name is better than precious ointment," and Proverbs 22:1 states, "A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches."  Yes, names are important.  Just think of the public figures we know who have ruined their names - Jared Fogle and Bill Cosby immediately come to mind.  Both of those names have much different meanings than they did several years ago.

Tracy Stewart.  What does that name mean to those who hear it?  When anyone who knows me hears my name, it conjures up certain thoughts in their minds about who I am as they know me.  I hope those feelings that come with my name are positive and encouraging, but that may not always be so.  Perhaps I've hurt someone, or disappointed others, and that's what they associate with my name.  I hope not.  But if such is the case with you, I hope you will give me the opportunity to make that right.  Sometimes we can even have a negative feeling when we hear someone's name because of false information - we call that slander.  And that is as troubling and as unfortunate as identity theft - maybe even more so.  We all desire to have that "good name" spoken of in Scripture.

But the more important thought is what does God think when He hears my name?  That's really the only identity that truly matters.  With God, I never have to prove my identity - He knows me.  No one can impersonate me with Him.  And no one can slander my name - He knows the REAL me.  God told Jeremiah, "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you..."  (Jer. 1:5), and the same is true of us all. Likewise, God told Moses in Exodus 33:12, "I know you by name," and in that beautiful analogy Jesus gives us in John 10 of Himself as the Good Shepherd and His followers as His sheep, He says that "He calls His own sheep by name..."  Yes, He knows my name.  And ultimately the only thing that matters is what God thinks.

Revelation 21:27 tells us that "only those whose names are written in the lamb's book of life" will be able to enter heaven.  I'm thankful that no one can steal my spiritual identity.  And I won't have to prove who I am - no "fraud alerts," or Identity Theft Affidavits or complaints will have to be filed.  May God help me to keep my name as one that always belongs to Him.

“Life can be treated either as a journey to be enjoyed or as a set of milestones to cross.” ~Anonymous

Milestones.  I have been hearing that word a lot lately.  A few weeks ago when I turned 50, a number of people referred to that as a "milestone birthday."  Maybe it was - the AARP certainly thinks so - they won't leave me alone!  And then there's my precious granddaughter, Lydia.  Every month since last September, on the 29th, we talk about the monthly milestones she has achieved, along with all of the developmental markers she has accomplished.  Each of those milestones for her are important to those of us who love her, and certainly something to be celebrated!

The origins of the word "milestone" date back to the third century.  The Romans first used them in their enormous network of roads to help travelers mark their progress - actual stones, set along the roadway.  Today, our US highway system uses mile markers for the same reason.  In a figurative sense, a milestone marks progress and achievement.

But just like literal milestones only appear every mile, milestones in our lives only occur at certain intervals.  We mark the milestones of our children's growth and development as infants, and then we note each milestone as they begin their school years - being promoted to the next grade, recitals, concerts, birthdays.  Then come the bigger milestones - turning 16 and getting a driver's license, graduation, beginning college.

As we grow older, it seems the milestones become fewer and farther between.  We have the early adulthood milestones - college graduation, marriage, the birth of our children, and then we turn 30... then 40... and then 50....  We welcome our first grandchild, and then each one after that, and those are big events.  We celebrate birthdays and holidays, and every large milestone in the lives of those we love.

But again, every day is not a milestone.  Most days are just part of what can sometimes seem like a monotonous journey.  Some days between those milestones can even seem arduous, like we are climbing uphill the whole time.  Maybe I even catch myself looking ahead to the next milestone, unable to simply enjoy the journey.  I know this can be especially true for young parents who are in the throes of child rearing.  I remember those days of thinking, "I can't wait until they can..."  If we're not careful, we can become so busy anticipating the next big milestone that we completely miss the simple joys of the in-between.

Today is seemingly one of those in-between steps for me.  My calendar contains the usual Thursday notations and plans.  No weddings to go to, no graduations to attend, and according to Facebook, none of the 480 friends I have there will even celebrate a birthday today.  But as I await the next major milestone that may come, this day is a part of my journey, and that makes it important.

Today, Lord willing, I will get to have the usual breakfast and dinner time with my husband.  I will enjoy the antics of our puppy, and the zest for life that she relishes each moment.  I will welcome a group of godly young ladies into our home this evening, as we meet to study the Bible together.  And I will go about the usual household chores as I prepare for their arrival.  I will likely hear from one or all of my children today, and I may even enjoy a new photo of our precious Lydia, or a random selfie of my journey-loving son.


And, as with most days, there will be little things that occur that perhaps I did not anticipate - bumps in the road, or possibly a surprise, unexpected curve, with a nice downhill coast.  None of those things are especially newsworthy, or even worth a Facebook post.  They certainly would not be described as milestones.  But added together with all of the other normal, seemingly mundane days, today is an important part of my journey.

Susan B. Anthony wrote, "Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these.”

Our lives our measured by these . . . indeed.  As I grow older, I do look back with fondness at the milestones in my past, and I look forward to those yet to come.  But more than that, I find myself enjoying even more the space between those markers.  The everyday, seemingly normal, moments.  Today.  This moment.  I pray I will make the most of it.

"The differences between friends cannot but reinforce their friendship." ~Mao Zedong

Jeff and I have been enjoying the past few days in San Diego, California, and on Tuesday we went to the world-famous San Diego Zoo.  It more than lived up to its reputation - we saw myriads of animals up close, and enjoyed the day immensely.

As we perused the different areas of the zoo, one exhibit in particular really caught my attention.  It was the Cheetah exhibit.  We all know that Cheetahs are cats - large, spotted ones that live in Africa and parts of Asia.  They are the fastest animal on earth, and can run 68 - 75 miles per hour in short bursts.  They are BIG cats - adults can weigh anywhere between 83 and 145 pounds.

But at the San Diego Zoo, there's something very unusual and unique about the Cheetah exhibit.  As we approached their area, I did a double-take -- this is what we saw...

Yes, that's a dog.  A lab mix, to be exact.  Living with a Cheetah.  The San Diego Zoo regularly pairs these two unlikely companions.  Cheetahs are by nature fearful animals.  They would rather run than engage in a fight.  Any new or unusual experience results in an instant impulse to flee.  Dogs - especially labs - are just the opposite.  They are friendly, enthusiastic, and good-natured.  They love people.  And apparently, they also love Cheetahs!

The San Diego Zoo pairs a shelter dog with a baby Cheetah at about three months of age.  They begin slowly at first, allowing them to smell and investigate each other through cage walls.  Eventually, they allow them to share the same space, monitored closely by keepers.  After they become comfortable, a life-long friendship is formed.  The zoo is even able to take the Cheetahs out as "zoo ambassadors" with the accompaniment of their dog friend.  The dog is the "caretaker," always concerned and seeing to the needs of their cat companion.  And the Cheetah takes their cues from their dog leader - in any new situation, if the dog is comfortable, so is the Cheetah.

Fascinating.  

And this made me think of people, and how we interact with one another.  Proverbs 27:17 tells us that "as iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend."  But for iron to truly sharpen iron, it needs resistance.  In other words, two blades can't really sharpen one another, any more than two Cheetahs can give one another confidence.  I need different people, personalities, and characteristics influencing my life to make myself better. 

I thought about my family and friends - the people I feel closest to in my life.  And without exception, they each possess qualities that I do not, but wish I did.  There's my ever-patient husband, who has helped this once extremely impatient person grow in that area by his awesome example (and patience) over the past 28 years.  I have others in my life who are out-going and fun-loving, who have taught my more serious-minded self to relax a little and have fun.  Then there are the service-oriented people - the givers - who have inspired me to be better at that as well.  And one friend in particular who lives several states away, I love because I can ALWAYS count on her to tell me EXACTLY what she thinks about what I am doing, without reservation.  Her opinion sometimes differs from mine, but I appreciate her candor and her willingness to share that with me.  She makes me better.  I could go on and on - in fact, I spent the entire month of November 2012 doing just that, as I posted a blog entry a day about the diverse group of people in my life who have shaped me - and continue to shape me - into who I am.

We all have others who are close to us who have characteristics that we likely view as negative.  These folks are good for us as well - they help us to work harder to avoid those attributes in our own lives.

Cheetahs and dogs.  I never would've paired them.  But the dog gives the cheetah confidence and comfort, while the cheetah provides the dog with companionship.  The trade-off for each is beautiful to behold.  And it makes me thankful for the diverse group of people who form my circle of family and friends.