Venison Sausage and Tough Love

Moses and Zipporah joined our family several years ago now. Morning walks are a ritual, and I can expect to find two eager faces watching me eat breakfast through the door to the screened porch. When I finish and begin to lace up my walking shoes, they begin barking and running in circles with excitement. Some walks are more exciting than others. Squirrels and cats provoke frantic barking and tugs at the leashes that I have to restrain. 

One morning this past week, the walk included discovery of hidden treasure. Why anyone would drop or toss a large, plastic-wrapped stick of venison sausage in the dried leaves along the side of the road where we walk is a mystery. When Moses found his treasure, I thought he had unearthed another dead squirrel and hurried to relieve him of the body before he could eat it. What I discovered instead was a fat sausage with a greasy plastic cover that made getting a grip on it impossible. I lost the tug of war and was unable to pry his jaws open to take the sausage away. Moses patiently opposed me and refused to drop the sausage.

Frustrated and in a hurry, I began walking towards home, for the first time hoping without success for a squirrel or cat alert that would prompt Moses to bark and drop the sausage. As we approached the house, I realized I could not let Moses off the leash as usual, or he would simply run away down the hill with the sausage. I feared the plastic and the sun-ripened meat would make him sick. Opening the gate, I let the dogs into the back yard as usual then walked into the screened porch and closed the door. I managed to let Zipporah off her leash with one hand. Then I turned to Moses, prepared for another tug of war.

He had dropped the sausage! I managed to grab it and pitch it over the fence, thinking that was the end of the adventure. Moses, however, planted himself by the chain link fence, growling at Zipporah each time she approached, an unusual confrontation probably prompted by the smell of the sausage just beyond the fence. Worried he might jump the chain link fence, I let myself out of the garage and searched through the dead leaves and fallen trees outside the fence, praying I would find the sausage and no snakes. When I found the chunk of meat, I learned the forbidden treasure was venison sausage, which I promptly dumped in the trash can. My hands were greasy and, dirty, and I had worked up a sweat. Tough love is also tough for the giver.

Moses was not happy with the loss of his giant treat. I regretted relieving him of his unexpected prize, but also did not want him to make himself sick. It would have been much easier to just let him have the sausage. I thought about the times I had to disappoint my sons by denying them some treasured item or experience. Then I thought about the times I had been the recipient of God’s tough love. It is no fun being on the receiving end either. I thought about the times God has gently denied some item or experience I thought was indispensable, until I gained the wisdom to understand the treasure was no prize. Tough love is one of those hard blessings that sometimes come to us in this life, love in a form that can be hard to recognize, but is love nonetheless.

Grace and Peace,

Donna Sue

Green Pastures

As I opened my blog to write a new post, I realized that I wrote last about Psalm 23, which has been on my mind again for a different reason. My husband and I returned recently from our first trip to Ireland, a place that is cool and green and blessed with rain. As we drove around the countryside and watched the fat sheep in the lush grass, I thought of Psalm 23 and the Psalmist’s promise that God makes us lie down in green pastures. I found that just being there refreshed my body, tired from the 100 plus degrees of this summer in Central Texas, and my soul, weary from the sadness of the past few weeks. Simply being in such a place made the Psalm seem more real to me and reminded me of God’s love. What a blessing to have time away in a beautiful place among new friends to renew my spirit. Maggie, if you are reading this know that you are a blessing. The trip would not have been the same without you, and I am most grateful to have met you.

Grace and Peace,

Donna Sue

The Valley of the Shadow

I have not written a post in almost three months. I have written elsewhere, but not here so it is past time to revive this practice. Today at church we said goodbye to a young friend, a child of our church, who is going to Northern Ireland for a year as a young adult missionary for the Presbyterian Church. She has started a blog about her adventures, and you will find her link under Erin Jezek. She said she too need to post something now that she is on her way, and I committed to updating my blog as well. We have had a bittersweet time at our church of late. Today was a sweet time of remembering this young woman's life and sending her off with our prayers and well wishes after she was commissioned for service. She is so full of life and promise and will be a blessing to those she meets there. I pray they will bless her as well.

The last few weeks have been a rough ones otherwise. A little over a month ago we lost a long time member to leukemia. Our pastor commented that there seemed to be a pall cast over the church as we waited knowing this woman would die soon. A month after her death, our pastor died. She went in for surgery and never woke up. We are still reeling from that loss. As a result of these bitter experiences, our congregation has spent too much time of late in the valley of the shadow of death. I have been thinking about that phrase from Psalm 23 as we have gathered around to support each other: "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me." I am grateful for the words of the Psalm I memorized as a child to comfort me in this sad time. And even more grateful for the knowledge of the sure and steady presence of God with us as we have travelled through the dark shadows.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Poet power

"The Elizabethans, more perceptive than later critics, feared [poets] as witches and hanged them as fomenters of treason." Ireland: a Concise History.

I ran across this quote as I was reading the history of Ireland in preparation for a fall trip to the one place in my heritage I have not yet visited. I have been chewing on the quote ever since and have written one poem in response. I do not think poets are nearly as powerful in our culture as they were in Elizabethan times in Ireland, but even here and now words have power, and those who use them courageously and well can have an impact. In my journey into the realm of poetry, I have spent many hours among poets and have come to appreciate their clear vision and honest reactions to this world in which we live. The ones I know are, for the most part, sensitive people in tune with others and the world around them in a way that can offer a fresh perspective to the rest of us if we have ears to hear and eyes to see. I am convinced the world would be a much better place if we spent less time listening to the politicians and pundits and much more time listening to poets.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Planes in the sky

I experienced a surreal, heart-stopping moment as I left the local grocery store earlier this week. I heard the roar as I approached the door with my basket and looked up to catch a glimpse of a jet roaring past so low it seemed to barely miss the cars in the parking lot. As I stepped outside, I joined the knot of worried people gathered and watching the sky as two fighter jets appeared to chase each other around in circles in the kind of maneuvers I've seen before only in movies like Top Gun. As they circled around again and then vanished in the distance, the small crowd asked questions and made comments: Is it the air show? No that is over. Obama is in Austin today. The firefighters just coming into the store don't seem alarmed so it can't be local. It looks like they have missiles! Did you see if they said USA on the side? I held my breath waiting to see what would happen next, and talked with a young neighbor in the group. As nothing more happened, after a few minutes we disbursed. My stomach felt queasy as I searched the news channels on satellite radio for any alarms on the way home. When I arrived home I hurried to turn on the TV, but saw nothing on the 24/7 news and began to breathe a bit easier.

It was only later in the day after posting a comment about the experience on Facebook that I learned the event had been a farewell flyover from the air show. That knowledge would have made the whole experience less scary. I called the young neighbor to tell her, and we both talked about how nice it would have been to know that at the time. Since then I have been thinking about how much we have lost in the decade since the September 11th attacks on this country. Those attacks were of course freshly on everyone's mind with the recent assasination of Osama bin Laden in the news. Living as we do within 30 miles of Ft. Hood, the world's largest US Army base, produces a different sort of mindset. We see and hear the activity as Ft. Hood goes about its business: the boom of artillery that rattles the windows, the planes lumbering overhead, and the slow-moving, camouflaged vehicles that sometimes crowd the highways. The military is part of the air we breath.

I long for the sense of security I had growing up, and I grieve for the young people, like my grandchildren, who will never feel safe in quite the same way I did as a child. But perhaps there is a blessing hidden in the new reality, for we now know in our guts the fear that many in the world live with daily and can therefore be more attentive to their plight. As I am forced to face the fact that life is uncertain and out of our control, I am reminded in a stark way that my only true security lies in God's love. God is all I have on earth or in heaven, and all I need. It is a hard blessing to know that, but a blessing just the same.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Remembering

The news that Osama bin Laden had been killed flashed me back to September 11, 2001 and the hallway leading to a seminary classroom as well as the shock we all felt at the news of the attacks that day. I can only imagine how much more painful this news has been for those who lost loved ones that day or who continue to suffer from the after effects of  their efforts to help with rescue and cleanup. My heart is filled with sadness at the thought of so much grief and pain from the evil that caused it. I have no room in my heart for rejoicing at this man's death, which does nothing to erase the results of his evil. I pray his death will bring a sense of relief and closure to those who grieve and perhaps lessen the violence in this world somehow. But I am appalled at those who have danced in the streets with joy at this news. Their actions are too sharp a reminder of those across the world who also danced at the news of our tragedy here that awful day. Such jubilation only serves to stoke the flames of hatred and violence. Better to respond with prayer and a somber spirit that remembers all that has been lost.

Grace and peace,
Donna Sue

Heart song

I have been wearing a heart monitor again and will be glad to turn it in at the end of the week. This is the second time the cardiologist has asked me to do this. It requires me to pay close attention to my heart rate and to push a button to record any irregularities I sense. For most of my life I did not pay much attention at all to my heart. I expected it to keep beating and it did. Now at times its steady beat has a jazz rhythm, mostly an annoyance, but the doctors want me to pay closer attention these days. I am grateful that my heart seems to be in excellent condition otherwise. I keep up the exercise routine as my contribution to its ongoing health, and I thank God each new morning when I wake up to another day. Both seem to be blessings rather than something about which I should complain. The cardiologist says some of his patients have lived well into their 80s with this type of problem, so I'm focusing on that and trying not to worry too much about the day to day changes. I have become more attuned to my heart's song, and grateful that it keeps singing. God is good and will walk with me on this journey whatever my heart's condition. I am thankful for that knowledge.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Coincidence or something else

Somehow I don't think it was a coincidence that he came into the church when I was standing behind the food serving line. Tentative, but hungry enough to open the door and venture inside, he said Martha's Kitchen, the local homeless shelter a few blocks away, had sent him when he arrived there after dinner. We were serving pancakes for a choir fund raiser that Shrove Tuesday night. I hesitated for only a second before saying, "Have a plate!" Fund raising could wait. We are a church after all. When I looked up a few minutes later,  I saw him sitting by himself. His faded clothes and nervous manner set him apart from the rest of the familiar, festive crowd. I left the the food service to others, grabbed a cup of coffee and went to sit across from him. In retrospect, I think the conversation may have been as important to him as the food. I learned he had been in the Navy, where he worked as a cook, serving thousands of meals on a ship. He said when he was in high school, college and the Navy, he never suspected he would end up homeless. He also told me his mom had died very recently. I discovered he knew a lot about the Bible. He talked about Abraham's demonstration of his faith when he was willing to offer up his son as a sacrifice, something we had just discussed in the Sunday school class I had been teaching on the Epistle of James. He said our country had its problems, but was better off than the ones he'd seen during his Navy time. He declined more food, saying, "I cannot eat much at a time anymore." When he rose to leave, I told him to come back, and he smiled. He offered me his hand, and on impulse, I gave him a hug. He hugged me back fiercely--the best hug I've had in some time--and in the process blessed me more than anything I had done for him. I think Jesus came to our church on Shrove Tuesday, and I almost missed his visit. I'm glad I was paying attention for once. I worry about the times I am not so attentive and miss God's presence.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Heaven Country

I have been working on learning more Chinese characters using my Chinese-English Bible for morning devotions. At times I am rewarded with unique insights from a different perspective. This past week, I discovered that the characters used for the kingdom of God are the characters for heaven and country. I decided I really liked the idea of "heaven country." It sounds more accessible to me somehow, like a place I can visit from time to time rather than a more ephemeral idea I sometimes have trouble grasping. I think I visited heaven country this past week during our annual Gospel Jazz Service on the last Sunday before Lent. We had a jazz band with us again to provide lively music that had people dancing. It was a joyful time. Our pastor talked in her sermon about the origins of jazz in the African American church in worship services where slaves and their descendants were able for a time to express both their anguish and their joy in God's presence. She said that jazz had spread from the church to the world and is now returning to its roots in the church in services such as ours. Perhaps that history of gospel jazz music is why the music in this annual service regularly moves me to tears of joy. Maybe it's because I sense God's presence in the music itself. My heart is still dancing as I remember the music and the jazz version of Just a Closer Walk with Thee I got to sing with our choir. What a blessing to dance before God our creator in preparation for entering the somber season of Lent once again.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Spring in Texas

When I stepped outside to feed Moses and Zipporah this morning, I discovered it was already warm. My days of walking the dogs whenever I feel like it are disappearing once again. Soon it will be too hot for such an adventure unless we go soon after breakfast. I will miss being able to walk whenever I feel like it. The air this morning was pregnant with the promise of new life. I heard a lawn mower going at a neighbor's house. Only a few have any grass at present, but I could smell the new mown grass. The mocking birds were challenging each other in the trees at one house and other birds seemed suddenly to be all around me. Soon, the trees out back will begin to leaf out again, and we will lose the view of the small lake in the distance. Each year, my husband says he plans on chopping down some of the trees that block the view in the summer, but as the windows along the back face west and the afternoon sun, I am content to have a winter view and a summer view that shades us from the worst of the Texas heat. One thing I have learned in thirty years of living here is to look for spring and savor it when it comes. Blink, and I will miss it's swift passage. All too soon the sun will be blazing each day, and I will be complaining about the 100 degree heat of the Texas summer. But for now, I am grateful for the spring breeze and the birdsong and the scent of fresh mown grass as the earth wakes from its slumber and all seems possible in the spring sunshine.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

In the company of poets

I am home again and missing the music of the beautiful language I heard this weekend among the poets and other writers at an annual writers' festival I have attended for five years. It is always a blessing to be among people who see life honestly and with the wonder and innocence I so value in children. Too many of us seem to lose that ability when we become adults. But good poets see the world through different lenses. The really good ones are able to share that vision with the rest of us. I find I see God's world with fresh eyes myself after being among these good friends again, and I am enabled to return to my own writing efforts renewed and reminded of the importance of this work to which God has called me. So thanks, Anne and Alan and Brady and Chris. And Paul, who came to teach us.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Contrite and Humble

I read in the book of Isaiah this morning that God, who is high and Holy, inhabits eternity and yet dwells with "those who are contrite and humble in spirit." Isaiah 57:15. The point of dwelling with the contrite and humble is to revive their hearts and spirits. I work at being contrite and try to be humble, but I'm not sure how well I do at either of those tasks most of the time. I have spent the last week in the company of pastors and other theologians, some old friends and some new ones. I am feeling generally contrite at present, for I have realized how much I have pushed God aside in the business of my life and then wondered why I was feeling burnt out and soul weary. I guess I am also feeling more humble as God has reminded me yet again that I cannot do it all myself, by myself, and more importantly that I do not have to. How often I have learned and forgotten that lesson. So I am trying once again to remind myself that I need God in daily doses to keep my soul happy and healthy and that I am not nearly as important as my frenetic activity would lead me to believe. Except to God and to those who know and love me for who I am, not for what I do. For that I am most grateful.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue

Nothing new under the sun

I have been thinking about the book of Ecclesiastes of late and the message that there is nothing new under the sun, or more specifically, "Is there a thing of which it is said, 'See, this is new'? It has already been in the ages before us." Ecclesiastes 1:10, NRSV. I started down this thought path as my husband and I listened to old radio shows on a long trip recently on our new satellite radio system. I remembered my parents stories about listening to the radio in the days before television. Then I started thinking about the fact that online catalog sales are growing and traditional brick and mortar stores are struggling or closing. I remembered that at one time, if you needed something you ordered it through the catalog and waited until it arrived. Finally, I focused on one of the new shopping and living developments south of us, which combines businesses and residences in a convenient, small, dense area, much like cities did once upon a time. I suspect many of those involved in these new trends are not old enough to remember when these new things were the old normal. Maybe not exactly "nothing new under the sun," but certainly a return to old practices in a new form, which pretty much amounts to the same thing. There is a lot of wisdom in the ancient book of Ecclesastes.

Grace and Peace,

Donna Sue

Epiphany

I spent the day of Epiphany with writer friends, beginning with an early writing group at a local Starbucks where we write responses to short prompts and then share what we have written. I suggested epiphany as a topic and it prompted some interesting results. I wrote that it had been some time since I had had the kind of epiphany that is a sudden insight. I was rewarded by a couple of epiphanies almost immediately that morning. Our second topic for the morning was piles. We laughed at each others comments. I discovered that each of us struggled to deal with the piles of information and stuff in our lives. It was a blessing to know that others also struggle with this problem, and I am not alone. Epiphany number one. I also discovered, as I listened to Bonnie, a reason I had not considered for my own struggles. She wrote that as a child she was a good little girl because that was expected by her demanding parents, but the one thing they could not control was her piles of papers and belongings, which she maintained as her own domain. Epiphany number two. I too was a good little girl with little freedom in my life and many demands, but mostly my belongings were my own to keep. It was the one place in my life where I could get away with some disorder. Strange to think I may have continued that childhood habit into adulthood. Perhaps this insight will help me tackle and reduce some of the current piles. It is time to lighten my load as I enter this new year. God's grace comes in the small blessings of insights from friends as well as in the large ones in this life.

Grace and Peace,
Donna Sue