Protector of the House

We have a dog.

I used to say, "I'm not a dog person."  In fact, I've had a cat (or two) all my life and as far back as I can remember.  However, I would never say, "I'm a cat person."  That just sounds creepy.  But secretly, I love cats.  I love that they are soft and clean themselves and are for the most part, independent.  It is what I wish for my children.  And my husband.  My husband isn't even a "pet person", which I think is a tragedy in itself.  He never so much as even had a gerbil or a fish...or for that matter, even a turtle.  I think every child should have a pet, lest they start collecting rocks and talking to them as if they understand.  That's how people become crazy and end up in asylums.  All because they never had a little pet that they could love and that would love them back.

After losing two cats at this address in less than two years, I began to re-think having a cat.  In this neighborhood, I might as well be a murderer or at least a conspirator to murder, what with the way cats mysteriously disappear and all.  Hungry coyotes view them as a snack pack in the purest sense of the phrase.

Last April, my daughter was taking a walk down our street with a friend from out of town.  They came home with a dog.

I saw that dog, a handsome little thing, all neatly groomed and happy.  The kids immediately all wanted to take turns holding him, and he just let them.  They were all in his face being completely obnoxious, and he just licked them.  We kept him around all that day.  He didn't beg at the table, was obviously leash trained, and clearly had once belonged to someone.  I sent my daughter back down the street to find out where this dog lived.  Another neighbor told us what he witnessed:  a blond haired woman in a white SUV tossed him out the passenger door in the cul-de-sac the night before.  What?  Who would do such a thing?

I guess it doesn't really matter.  What matters is that my sweet, tender-hearted daughter saw a dog, picked him up, and brought him home with every intent to keep and care for him.  Did I mention that I am not a dog person?

Three weeks prior to this event I had a dream, a dream so vivid and disturbing that I ventured to write it down in my journal.  In the dream, I was pregnant and gave birth to a baby boy.  (As a side note, I feel like our family is complete,  and I have no plans to become pregnant, nor can I, as things have been "taken care of" in that area.)  In the dream, I named my little boy, "Hammond".  Where did this name come from?  I know of no one who goes by this name, and yet this dream was very real.

The next morning, I typed "Hammond name meaning" into Google on my computer.  It means "Protector of the House."  Interesting, I thought.  Surely, I dreamed this dream for a reason.  And sure enough, three weeks later, here comes this little dog.  And aren't dogs the "protectors of the house?"

We call him Hammy; he's a five-pound Yorkshire Terrier.  He's the "cat" of the dog world.

Coincidence.  Or God's gift to us?  I'm choosing to thank God for this precious gift because every child should have a pet to care for and love, even if he is a little stinky.

What Every Room Needs

Right now, I'm sitting by myself in a quiet house.  I'm at the desk in my kitchen, typing away on my laptop.  I could just as easily move this computer to the living room or my bedroom and feel just as comfortable.  I recently noticed that every room in my house has two things in common.  I think I did this unconsciously, but now that my mind's eye has turned its attention to it, I can't help but dwell on this common theme.  Not surprisingly, it has become a common theme in these blog posts, as well.

The two things?  A clock and a mirror.  Every single room has them.  Why?  I don't know.  I like to look at myself, and I don't want to be late?  Maybe.  When I placed them there, it was simply because I like the extra light a mirror brings to a room and the tick-tock of a well-placed clock just says "Welcome Home" to me.  But maybe it's more than that.

Maybe God wants me to think of him when I saunter through the rooms in my house.  After all, Genesis 1:27 says, "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them."  I love that.  I was made in the image of God, so every time I look at myself, what I see needs to represent the one who made me.  I know several people, who, when I look at them, I honestly feel like I am gazing upon the very face of Jesus.  The Bible is clear that even "as water reflects a face, so a man's heart reflects the man".  (Proverbs 27:19)  These people possess a countenance that is so peaceful and their words are so full of joy, that without them ever even saying it, I know that they are Christians.  This is how I know it:  "And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit".  (2 Corinthians 3:18)  I may not be able to see my heart in my mirror, but it daily reminds me of the importance of what my life reflects.

The clock, too, is a reminder of what my life reflects.  How am I using these precious days I've been given to bring glory to God? I actually took a week-long break from writing this post, and in that time, our family switched from cable to satellite TV.  This new electronic equipment has no clock attached to its face, so alas the first paragraph I wrote is a complete lie.  You wouldn't believe how this lack of a prominent timepiece has unnerved our family.  The kids claim they don't know what time they're supposed to go to bed, and I am suddenly aware of how many times a day I absent-mindedly glance at one of the many clocks in our home.  I need to know how much time I have left.  And not knowing how much time I have left has caused more than a little bit of anxiousness.  If only I could be like Hosea, "Sow for yourselves righteousness, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers righteousness on you. "--Hosea 10:12 (emphasis mine).  

Time to seek the Lord--that's a sobering thought.  So often I set aside time to seek the Lord...when I have time.  How backwards is that?  I sit here in my comfortable house and wonder to myself, "how much time before the kids get home from school?" Then, it's "How much time before I have to start dinner"?  And finally, "How much time before the kids go to bed and I can steal a few minutes for myself"?  Becoming more intentional about writing this blog has actually helped me to become more intentional about life in general.  The fact that I have free time at all is a gift I should not take for granted.  Today, I pray that I will use this gift to seek the Lord, not only because of what I think I will find, but also because of what I know I will begin to see in the mirror.

In our Sorrow--The Unexplainable Gift

Yesterday we learned that good friends of ours have a son who is dying.  As heartbroken and distraught as we are over hearing this news, I can only imagine how this boy's parents must feel.  He is their only child, and truly, after months of hoping and praying, they believed with all their heart that he would live.  To find out that they have just a few short weeks more with their precious boy is devastating to say the least.  Sorrow like this is a tricky thing.  At once, it is all consuming and at the same time uneven and fueling a varying range of tumultuous emotions. 

When we arrived at the hospital, the mother was crying out:  "I am SO mad!  SO MAD!!!"  She pleaded with us.  "Who should I be mad at?"  We assured her that she could be mad at anybody she wants.  Most obviously, she is mad at God.  She has every right to experience the fury that accompanied this unexpected news.  And even though she had no idea that she was lifting up an offering to God,  Psalm 51:17 clearly states, "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise."  And then in 2 Corinthians 7:10-11, the Bible says "Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.  See what this godly sorrow has produced in you:  what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done."  Their acute suffering forced them to make a choice:  Would they turn to God in their time of greatest need or move away from him?  Over the last few months I have watched this family turn to God and cry out to him with everything that is in them.  They have been praying, reading their Bible, and attending church.  Even now, they do not understand how a compassionate, loving God would let their child die.  Surely a GOOD God wouldn't do that, right?

The irony is that this is precisely where God's compassion is truly evident.  Sure, he COULD save the world from cancer and devastation and poverty and all the things that make us sick to our stomachs.  He COULD, and one day he WILL, but for now unfortunately the world has been given over to us:  "We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of the evil one.  We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true.  And we are in him who is true--even in his Son Jesus Christ.  He is the true God and eternal life."--I John 4:19-20.  The good news is that Christ has overcome the world, so whether this boy lives or dies, guess what?  He wins. 

Did you get that?  HE WINS. 

Christ has overcome the world, and because we are his children, one day we will too. 

Sorrow hurts.  That is an understatement.  There is so much pain in this world.  At one time or another, all of us have uttered the words of my friend:  "I am SO mad!"  And like her, sometimes we aren't quite sure where to direct all that anger.  Usually, God takes the brunt of it.  There's so much I have yet to understand, but I remain confident that my God is a God of compassion, that I can lay down my heavy heart on the shoulder of his understanding.  All we have to offer him may be a broken spirit, a contrite heart, and a soul that is weary with sorrow.  We ask, "Where is God in the midst of all this suffering"?  I just answered my own question.  Surely that's where he is:  right in the midst of it.  He has to be.  In this, (and how and why is a mystery), God reveals himself to us that we might believe in him and accept the free gift of salvation.