My Girls’ Canine Family!

Recently, I got to chat with someone from Guiding Eyes who shared the family information for both of my guide dogs.

Oleta was born on October 23, 2009 to parents Loren and Mark.  Her siblings in birth order are:

Orchard (released)

Osa (released, but became a different sort of service dog)

Bailey (released)

Oak (retired guide dog)

Oleta (retired guide dog)

Opera (released)

Ogden (retired guide dog)

Octavian (released)

Prim was born on October 21, 2015 to parents Peter and Daphne.  Her siblings are:

Peyton (in training)

Promise (released)

Posh (released)

Peace (working guide dog)

Parker (released)

Pongo (detection dog)

Pearl (working guide dog)

Prim (working guide dog)

Pumkin (working guide dog)

It’s great to know where my sweet girls came from.  I’m hoping we can meet some of Prim’s siblings!  We already know her sister Pumpkin, who was in training when we were in class in September.  It was pretty clear they knew that they are sisters, judging by how much they wanted to play together every time they saw each other. ❤

So thankful to Guiding Eyes for breeding, raising, and training so many fantastic dogs.

Creating as a Kind of Living

For years, I constantly wondered what on Earth I want to do as a career.  I considered teaching, becoming a lawyer, becoming a business woman, working in the technology field, and none of it seemed to fit.  I couldn’t do anything more than toy with the idea before a sense of wrongness made me change my mind time and time again.  I couldn’t put my finger on why that was, until, I think, that day.

I woke up that morning and posted a blog I had written a while ago.  It was simple, far from perfect, but I enjoyed posting on my blog and hadn’t done it in a while.  I began another blog post, then took a break to continue work on a song I had started a couple of months before.  I loved it so far, but it was still lacking a chorus and needed some reorganizing.  As I arranged, lyricized, and invented, another theme found it’s way into existence, and I took a few minutes to develop and record that so that I could go back to it sometime in the future.  From there, I stopped in to edit a bit of the fantasy trilogy I have been working on with my sister, and realized.

Everything in me longs to create.  I want to create new friendships, new opportunities, new stories, new songs.  I want to add to the world with pristine, sparkling novelty, mined like diamonds from the unsearched depths of my soul.  It sounds dramatic, but it is dramatic!  Think about it!

When the Lord made the universe, he spoke it into being out of nothing… nothing!  Ideas, music, words, stories, they are like that!  You may start with an empty page, but you end with lines, paragraphs, pages of text and meaning that did not exist before.  You may begin with silence, but a few minutes later, there is a melody and chords and poetry that can speak to the heart.  It’s the closest we can get to taking part in the drama of the first creation.

I think every human has a desire to participate in creation like that at some level.  Whether it be having children, or starting a company, we long to bring things into being that once were not.  It is a part of our DNA as image bearers of our own maker.  Second only to serving my Lord, I want that to be my life’s work.

Thankful for Birdsong | 30 Days of Gratitude, Day 14

I’m a musician, and melody is a constant presence in my life.  My roommates can attest to that.  They often comment, or tease, about my humming, and singing, and piano improvising at all times of the day, and occasionally the night.  I think maybe that’s what makes me appreciate birdsong so much.  They are participating in the same music-making that fuels my energy from hour to hour, and it’s life-giving, enchanting, even.

It reminds me of all the Disney princesses that make friends with birds.  Cinderella, Snow White, Mary Poppins (although she’s not exactly a princess), either way they all have this magically musical relationship with winged whistlers of various varieties, and in a way it’s quite representative of the reality.  There is something magical about it, an animal that can produce music at will, and does so as a regular part of their routine.  There aren’t many other animals like that.  May it serve as a reminder to make magic with our own music in our own routines.

Thankful for Twenty-Three Years | 30 Days of Gratitude, day 13

Obviously, like many of my writing projects lately, my “30 Days of Gratitude” got extended far beyond the 30 days of November, but I still want to complete 30 days, so I’m persevering in spite of my failings.

It was my birthday recently, and I was tempted to feel a little sad.  Twenty-three feels so different than any other birthday before.  I don’t think I ever thought much beyond 22, because that was the age I was to graduate college, and who knew what would come after that.  Well, here we are, and I’m feeling the same way.  Who knows what comes after this?

I don’t.  That’s for sure… so in one way, twenty-three makes me feel a little aimless, a little lost, and a lot inadequate (and yes I know that’s grammatically incorrect).  I think part of me felt like I didn’t need to think beyond 22, because by the time twenty-three came around I would have things figured out.  I’d have a job, and be paying all of my own bills with my own, earned money.  I’d be successful.

I’m not though, which must mean I’m a failure.

Al right.  SO I’ll work harder.  I’ll change my tactics.  I’ll find a way to achieve this thing I’m supposed to be at twenty-three, and my first step can be choosing to be thankful for these three and twenty years of life, successes and failures, joys and sorrows, easy days and difficult ones.

This is two and a third decades now that I have had the amazing opportunity to know oxygen, and smiles, and family, and delicious food, and cool summer evenings and crisp autumn mornings, and rainy February days and glorious April dawns.  Twenty-three years that I’ve gotten to spend writing, singing, petting dogs and hugging horses, playing ivory keys and steal strings, and dancing and running and leaping.  And how the Lord has been faithful.  How he has brought me to him, and taught me to pray, and seek first His kingdom, and call him my sovereign.  Oh there are too many joys to count!

Have I a great deal to learn?  Oh yes.  Have I a deep longing to be different than the girl I am now?  For sure.  But wow I’m glad to be alive.  Oh God, use every second of it for your glory!

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When Weighty Cares Beset Your Soul — A Prayer for 2018

This is just a small bit of verse that came to me as I prayed that the Lord would use this year as he pleases.  Undoubtedly amateur in terms of poetry, but I’d thought I’d share anyway, since the sentiment is sincere, if nothing else.

 

 

When weighty cares beset your soul

Rejoice, oh heart, the Lord extol,

For in his hands each trial finds rest,

To ease the anxious, grief-burned breast.

 

And when the swords of men draw near,

Remember then his side, the spear.

He took for you the shame for sin,

And granted you new life in him.

 

And if one day the tempest rage,

Should cast you out into the waves,

Look up to see your sleeping Lord,

And know his peace means you restored.

 

For never did he like Jonah stray,

Or from his father turn away,

The righteous life we could not live,

He by grace through faith will give.

 

“Your faith,” he’ll say, “has made you well.”

So we need never taste of hell,

For though we only death deserved,

Jesus came to heal our hurt.

 

Oh let me never forget thy grace,

That cleanses me from every trace,

Of sin and every evil thing,

Which kept  me from my God and king.

 

Oh that. thy Word and thine alone

Might be for me foundation stone

And when the mighty waters come

I shall say, “Thy will be done.”

Thankful for Safety | 30 Days of Gratitude, Day 12

At church this morning, we were introduced to an off duty police officer who will be on guard during services.  It was a project, according to our pastor, that has been in progress for several months now, and not something that was motivated by recent events, though recent events certainly make me consider the change in a different light than I would have before.

The knowledge that an armed officer will be standing at the entrance of our sanctuary both leaves me thankful, and a little sad.  Thankful because I don’t see any reason why we should leave ourselves and our church family open to attack.  Perhaps the recent shootings in Texas, Nashville, and South Carolina could have been avoided had their been an armed guard already on sight at the time of the event.  Indeed, the attacks in Texas and Nashville very likely resulted in fewer casualties due to the nearby presence of a courageous, armed citizen.  Thus, I am thankful that our church family, at least, is no longer as vulnerable.

Still, my heart aches a little at the realization that we have to take such measures.  It aches for the lives already lost in the church families that have seen bloodshed.  It aches for the knowledge that we are so much deeper in our sin than we know, or perhaps than we can even comprehend.  It aches a little too, in a nostalgic sort of way, for the sleepy little village churches of American antiquity, doors open and lights on, ready to welcome any sin-weary wanderer to be received, forgiven, and renewed by the transforming power of Jesus.  Somehow, a church sanctuary with an armed guard at post outside of it doesn’t give me the same welcoming vibe, but then, perhaps those sleepy little churches of American antiquity are figments of my imagination anyway.

Either way, I’m not willing to sacrifice members of our church family merely for the sake of a potentially more “welcoming vibe”, so I’m back to being thankful.  We don’t live in a culture now where it is prudent to go unprotected, certainly not in a city of 700 thousand, and I trust Jesus when he said, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Protecting one another is part of loving one another, so even in a day an age when we must set armed guards outside of our sanctuaries to protect our church family from attack, I am convinced that Jesus’ love will shine through, and for that, I am also thankful.

Thankful for Imperfect Art | 30 Days of Gratitude, Day 11

Art is an earthly representation of the creative power of God, dim and weak in comparison, but undoubtedly so.  We are made in his image, and being made in his image we display, like him, the ability to create and to breath life into our creations.  As an artist, I often find that my creations die too early, or, at least, do not reach full maturity because I forsake them, citing their imperfections as my excuse.

And then it struck me.  What if God had done that with his imperfect art?

All things were good when he made them—perfectly good—but they did not stay that way.  God gave his creatures a will, a will which could choose to follow him or turn from him.  In turning from him, we turned from perfection, and thus into imperfection.

Still, God did not do as I would have done.  He did not forsake his art.  Rather, he pursued it, even became a part of it when he saw fit to take the form of a babe, born amongst peasants, suffer the lowly, hungry life of a working man, and was denied and crucified by the very imperfect creations he had come to pursue and perfect.

How many songs have I left unsung?  How many stories and poems and articles have I left undeveloped and unfinished due to my petty frustration over their iniquities?  Undoubtedly hundreds, but I am thankful that God shows me a different way.  Even now I am tempted to leave this bit of writing undone.  I am tempted to quit the document and never look back at it, too unsatisfied with this sentence, or that word, or the whole concept in general… but I, too, am an imperfect creation, and my creator did not abandon me to non-existence due to my defects.  As an artist, I have a responsibility to my art to develop it, to give it at least a chance at life, even considering its deficiencies.

Thus, as an expression of my thanks in this regard, I hope to be a more responsible creator in the coming year.  In my quest to become more like Jesus, I hope that I will pursue my art, like he did, and gift it existence even when I feel it doesn’t deserve it. Here begins my fight against perfectionism, which has long been the, often victorious, enemy of my work.  It will be a long-fought battle, of that I am certain, but if it was worth it to God, it is worth it to me.