Taking the Lead

Say hello to my three dog-children: Baron, Brandy, and Jazzy! They are AKC registered mini-dachshunds who are a part of our family.


I think they forget they are dogs, until it is time for a walk.


When the leashes come out, the chaos begins! Not only are they eager to run rapidly out the door, they each want to take the lead!

I have tried leashing all three together, driving them like chariot horses ahead of me. It works until an unexpected dog or person comes into view, and then they bark, scatter, and lunge in three different directions. Our vigorous pack dog run digresses into a mild panic.

As my husband and I have attempted to address this dilemma, we have viewed dog psychologist Cesar Milan's show "Dog Whisperer" for insights into our doggy children's behavior. I also decided to work with each dog, one at a time and try to correct the errant behavior.


First I started with Baron. He is the red male in our trio. Ten years old, he literally grew up with our youngest daughter and follows me around the house. Baron considers himself the household watch dog--barking ferociously at all strangers.

He has been snake-bit, scarred, and back-stressed, but he still considers himself the alpha/leader dog.

No matter how many times I tried to make him follow on the leash, he pulled just hard enough to walk a few steps ahead of me on the walk.



This is Baron's mate, Brandy. She is a four year
old red/black brindle who sleeps in the bed with my youngest daughter, climbs in my husband's lap whenever it's available, and wants me to pick her up and hold her every time she hears thunder.

She is a cat in a dog's body! A skittish scaredy-cat and prowling hunter, all wrapped up in one little package.

On her walk, she doesn't want to lead as she does not really follow. She yaps at nothing and darts about, tangling the leash around my legs.


What I see so far is that not following or trusting the lead (her master) takes away from enjoyment of the walk as much as when Baron tries to take charge of the lead, when I am the one who cares for them and protects them from harm.

How similar to my walk with God at times. There are times when God is not working fast enough for me, and I surge ahead--taking the lead. Other times I act as if God is not leading at all, and I dart about in worry and uncertainty.

Ironic isn't it, when God is the one who takes care of me and protects me. I am His special treasure. He wants to walk with me, following and trusting His lead, submitting to His leadership and enjoying the time together.

I am so like my sweet dachshunds sometimes. I know they adore me. They follow me around the house. Sleep on the floor by my bed. Depend on me to care for them. They trust me, and for the most part, they obey me.

But when it comes to the walk--they struggle with following the lead.

I am still learning to walk with my God. He is the Creator of the universe. My loving Father. King of Kings and Friend of my Heart. I love Him. Adore Him. And depend on Him for everything.

And still, I struggle with following His lead.
Lord, teach me to be a follower, so I can truly walk with you.

Fall Frenzy

September drops gently on Alabama when it comes to weather. The heat of summer fades to a sun-filled embrace that softens at night to light cool caress.

But not on Friday night football games or Saturday morning track meets!

Friday nights heat up as the sun falls beneath the horizon. Youthful bodies don their battle gear and burst onto the field, intent upon the conflict. Here in Alabama, football is king. The game forges champions, or sidelines them with injuries.

This is our family's first full varsity football experience. Our oldest daughter is a first time Varsity cheerleader for a brand-new 2A team competing at the varsity level for the very first time.

The games have been exciting and anything but boring! The concrete stands we sit on act as solar radiators -- a fact that we are not yet grateful for as we lean in to catch what little breeze sweeps through the bleachers.

Early the next morning, my husband and I chase a few quiet moments between our son's cross country Saturday morning meet schedule. Before we know it, the crisp clear coolness we woke up to has been replaced by a stubborn summer sun who insists on baking our son, his teammates, and all the competitors until they sweat and wilt beneath its blaze.

October will be so different. We will probably freeze on Friday nights and wish for our perfect September nights. The cross country team will wear their warm-ups and watch their breath pant in icy blasts.

Every time has its season. Everything its purpose. For us, there will be quiet September mornings...some day in the not so distant future when our nest empties and our hectic lives decrescendo.

But for now, I do not want to miss a beat or skip a moment of the fast, furious, fun, and frenzied lives of two active teenagers (not to mention a tween, as well) all these Friday nights and Sat. mornings in the fall of 2006.

Remember Who You Are

"Remember who you are..." The strong booming voice of Mufasa, once the lion king, spoke truth into the darkened confusion of his son Simba's world. Simba was living without any worries with a warthog and a meerkat, not as a lion. He could forget, even ignore, who he was, but he could never change who he really was.

Do you know who you are? Do you remember whose you are?

Sept. 11, 2001. Our entire nation watched with horror as the Twin Towers burned and collapsed to the ground after terrorist-controlled planes slammed into the upper floors.

In a moment, so many everyday heroes remembered who they were...fellow Americans. Some lives were saved. Some heroes died helping others. Many suffered loss. And as we watched, sharing their shock and their grief, we were reminded that we were all Americans that day.
***
In 1964, I was born into a the home of a young minister and his young wife, both fresh out of Bible college. My daddy still says that I looked so much like my mother the day I was born, he could not name me anything else but Becky, my mother's name.

Even today, the resemblance endures. Every time I visit and especially when I meet their friends and acquaintances, I am recognizably their daughter before introductions are made. I need only to look as far as a mirror to remember who I am and whose I am in my family.

It is not quite so easy to remember who I am spiritually. The Bible tells me that by faith in Jesus Christ, I am no longer a slave to sin, addicted to my self and my appetites. Instead, I have been transformed into a child of God, the Bride of Christ, beloved of the Father. I am free to walk in newness of life, led by God's Spirit.

But like Simba, in the confusion and darkness of my enemy's lies and deceptions, I can forget who I am. I need more than a reminder. I need penetrating truth. Like Simba, I can be paralyzed by the past, with its failures and shame. Or I can be deluded by my accomplishments into thinking I am more than I am

The past is only about what I did. But it is not who I am.

Who are you? The truest answer is found in the question: whose are you?

Vernazza - A special place of rest

Window view from Vernazza, Cinque Terre, Italy. A secluded cove where the Mediterranean roared a fitful lullaby or lapped a peaceful slumber against the rocks below.

Vernazza is one of five towns nestled among the rocky coastline of northern Italy, known as the Cinque Terre. Connected by hiking trails that meander through hillside vineyards and lemon groves, the towns seem to grow out of the mountain and descend into the water below.

Life in Vernazza is out of time. But full of place.

Geoff and I spent our last weekend in Italy here, renting an apartment with a balcony that overlooked this tiny cove. It was at once relaxing and invigorating.

We could sit for hours at the water's edge, watching the foam surge and crash on the breakers that protect the ancient harbor where small colorful fishing boats still bring in the day's catch: shrimp, octopus, squid, sea bass, anchovies. Il Frito misto is how we encountered it on the local menu.

Lively, quaint. Modern, but ageless. Vernazza was a place to rest from climbing towers, touring art museums, and exploring the wonders of Rome, Florence, and Tuscany. And it was so much more.

The air was pristine. The scenery along the trails was stunning at every turn. An icy lemon granita (a partially frozen, slushy-like drink) made from fresh, local lemons rewarded our hike between towns where cars were forbidden access except on market day.

Staying in Cinque Terre was a rest that rejuvenated and enlivened. How unlike the kind of rest that ruins and decays, as we observed among the ancient Roman ruins or in crumbling medieval chapels.

Today (Labor Day) I read in Hebrews 4 of the place of rest that awaits believers: “So there is a special rest still waiting for the people of God. For all who enter into God’s rest will find rest from their labors, just as God rested after creating the world” (Heb. 4:9,10 NLV).

It occurred to me as I read, that when God rested on the seventh day, His work with mankind was not finished. It had only just begun. Conflict was just about to ensue as Adam and Eve fell to sin’s temptation, and evil began its vicious assault on the earth and all its occupants.

But God’s promise is for a future place of rest when the conflict will be ended. Truth will prevail. Justice will be exacted. Evil’s vicious rule will be terminated. Love and eternal bliss will be the reward of those who have chosen to follow “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).

God’s place of rest. If Vernazza is any indication of what is ahead, then we have a lot to look forward to.