Holding It All Together

Sometimes it’s hard to hold it all together.

Last week I headed out early in the morning to The Dalles to drop Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle off at our vet to get her teeth cleaned. I can’t believe how much I love our silly dog.

And.

As a dog, she receives better dental care than the estimated 74 million of my fellow citizens without access to dental insurance, who, when financial push comes to dental shove, have to choose putting food on the table over a trip to the dentist.

And.

Driving through the jaw dropping beauty of the Columbia River Gorge that I call home, I was overcome with awe and wonder for this spectacular corner of the world. One of the top destinations in the country, people come here to live, hike, kite-board, wine taste, and of course, fish for salmon.

And.

This was once the home of Indigenous peoples long before those who looked like me arrived on the scene, colonizing, displacing, and destroying their homes and ways of life. The once abundant fishing sites, central to tribal cultures, diets, societies, and religion, were destroyed by dams. Today, traditional fishing, and often living, take place at “In-lieu” Sites. These small, poor parcels of land, often without utility services, are supposed replacements for lost livelihoods.

And.

After dropping Gracie off at the vet, I test drove a late model Toyota Sequoia, and fell in love with it immediately. I called my husband, and before the day was over, he had traded in our other car, drove the new one home, and parked it in our garage.

And.

Heading home later that same day I stopped to grab some groceries. A family sat at the corner with a sign, asking for help with rent. Our new car cost more than the first house I owned, and could sleep a family of 5 in a pinch.

And.

Yesterday I paired my iPhone with the car audio system, making it easier to make and receive calls while on the road, listen to podcasts, and car dance to my favorite tunes.

And.

The parts for that iPhone were likely produced with slave and child labor.

And.

On our nightly walk lately, the stars have been out in spades. It’s almost like God is showing off, as only She can. We turn off the flashlight and take in the wonder and magic of the night sky, grateful to live in a place where we feel safe as the quiet darkness settles around us..

And.

The night sky in Ukraine is lit up by incoming bombs and missiles, killing thousands of citizens, destroying property, and sending thousands of others to makeshift bomb shelters and fleeing across borders. As Russia wages a ruthless and evil unprovoked war, God can only be shedding tears at this devastating display of human hate and hubris.

Like I said, sometimes it’s hard to hold it all together. How do we hold on to two huge opposites at the same time—all the good in our lives and all the terrible things happening in the lives of others— when both are real and both are true?

The only conclusion I can come to is that we just do. We don’t feel guilty about the good, we welcome it with open hands.

And.

We use those same hands to do everything within our power to build a better world for all.

(A guilt-free moment, loving our silly dog.)

Something Afoot Just Beyond Our Sight

This morning, Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle and I were out for our normal morning walk, but somehow it didn’t feel like a normal morning. Rather than wander about and explore as she usually does, she stayed close, stopping often to peer out into the woods as if sensing that something, or someone, was afoot, just beyond our sight.

Partway down the road I stopped and turned around, the sky above the hills behind our home ablaze with color. Gold, pink, orange, and crimson. Reaching for my phone to capture the image, probably for use in a blog, I was disappointed to realize that I had left it at home.

In that moment it was as if whatever it was, and it was something, that was afoot in the woods and just beyond our sight, invited us to stop observing the moment and actually be in the moment.

Time stopped. The mental chatter silenced, and the sounds of cars on the road faded away. It was just a girl and her dog on the road. Gracie quietly sat down and together we weren’t watching life, we were life. The calls of two ravens caused us both to turn around just in time to see them emerge from the pines, leisurely making their way to the grove of cottonwood trees just beyond the fence. Landing on the highest branch they talked to one another as ravens do, taking turns, not talking over one another as humans often do. Just beyond the cottonwoods the morning sun was hitting the flanks of Mt. Adams, the light beating back the darkness, as given time, the light will always do.

The ravens flew off, still deep in conversation. Gracie and I watched until they disappeared from sight beyond the pine trees. Turning to head back to the house, the sky that had just minutes before been bright with color was now just so many shades of gray.

The moment was over.

Walking back to the house I wondered how often whatever it was, and it was something, that was afoot in the woods and just beyond our sight, is beckoning us to stop observing the moment and actually be in the moment. To stop watching life and be life. My hunch is, whatever it is, and it is something, is there all the time.

(NO PHOTO FOR OBVIOUS REASONS)

About Face

Life becomes a matter of showing up and saying yes.

~ Richard Rohr

Two days after Thanksgiving I was up early before most of the others tucked into every nook and cranny of our home were awake. Throwing on my coat and boots I headed out into the cold and still dark morning because Gracie-the-chocolate labradoodle needed to go outside. Truthfully, I needed to go ousidet too. Every day for the past couple of weeks seemed to have required everything I had to give, the day that lay before me did too, and frankly, I wasn’t sure that I was up to the task. Not, at least, as the kind of person I like to bring to the party on any given day. I was tired and spent, and when I get like that grace, joy, and gratitude aren’t my forte’.

Standing out facing the pines, the house behind me, I waited for the dog to take care of her morning business, pondering the day ahead. I dreaded it, unable to imagine anything other than making it through. I wanted to turn my back on the day and pretend it wasn’t waiting for me when I walked back inside.

And then In the morning stillness, these words rose up:

How you go back into the house will determine the kind of day you have.

In that moment I knew that it was up to me. I could show up and say ‘yes’ to the day before me or not. It was my choice. It’s always my choice. A truth that is rarely convenient is that we have far more choice over who we want to be in any given moment than we give ourselves credit for.

Turning around to face the house, and the day before me, I headed back inside.

It was a good day.

My Own Medicine

As a writer, speaker, and coach, I help others connect who they are with how they live. It’s great work, and I love supporting people as they endeavor to live authentic, wholehearted lives. One of the things I find myself doing frequently in that process is encouraging them to trust that things will work out despite all evidence to the contrary.

The problem with my work is that in order to be authentic and wholehearted myself, I have to be willing to take a dose of my own medicine more often that I’d like to.

Take this morning for instance when the day before leaving on a bucket-list horse pack trip to celebrate our 25th anniversary, Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle decided to go into heat.

Things will work out.

Which meant that our well made plan to drop her off at her favorite boarding facility went out the window.

Things will work out.

Not many places will even take a dog in heat, not to mention that this is prime boarding time as people head out on vacation.

Things will work out.

At this late date, we stand to lose a substantial chunk of change if we have to cancel the trip.

It was getting harder to see how things would work out,

What to do?

At 10:30 in the morning there is only one thing to do. Make BLTs with extra bacon and extra mayo, split a beer, send up a short fervent prayer for help, and then start looking for other options. All the while trying to remember that things will work out despite all evidence to the contrary. Which they eventually did.

We just dropped Gracie off at her temporary digs. She will be alive and very happy to see us when we return, but it was hard work practicing what I preach. So for good measure we just stopped at Starbucks for grande mocha Frappuccinos. As it turns out, a spoonful of sugar really does help the medicine go down. Even my own.

What Do We Allow?

“Whatever you allow gets reinforced.”

Matt Luchisnger

This morning in a private training session with Matt, owner North West Balanced Dog Training, as we were talking about Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle, he reminded us that whatever we allow her to do reinforces that particular behavior. If we ask her to lie down, and she begins to inch her way (still on her belly of course, since she’s a clever little girl) closer and closer to a toy or morsel of food, and we allow it, we’ve just reinforced that she is welcome to do so. Which she isn’t. Not if we want her to take us seriously. Which we do.

Prior to Gracie it just never occurred to me that what works when training a dog works pretty well when training a human too. Allow fearful thoughts to creep further in, and they will. Allow others to treat us with disrespect, and they will. Allow ourselves to look for the negative, and we will. Allow old stories to rule our life, and they will.

Whatever we allow gets reinforced.

MASTERY

Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle has mastered the art of going crazy in the presence of other dogs and humans. It’s not her fault, it’s ours. Left to her own devices, whenever she is around her four-legged peers, or is introduced to new people, she will whip herself into a hot, uncontrollable frenzy. Ufortunately we left her to her own devices too often when she was a young pup.

What she hasn’t mastered is the art of being calm in the presence of other dogs and humans. It’s not her fault, it’s ours. As a result, we are helping her conquer this new and necessary skill. Whenever encountering other dogs or people, with the help of a few training tools, she is learning to calm herself and is developing good doggie social skills. If we had started this earlier, she wouldn’t have to work as hard as she is to overcome her fallback behaviors and develop new ones. Thankfully she is a smart girl and wants to please us, so she is steadily making her way to mastering these new skills.

Whether we walk on two legs or four, we master what we practice, and it’s never too late to develop new skills.

Principle Vs Practice

“Dallas Willard says we always live what we believe, we just don’t always live what we profess we believe.”

From The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman

Authenticity matters to me, and I believe that being true to who we are and what we believe is our calling. We do that by connecting who we are with how we live. In my work as a speaker, writer, and coach, that is what I endeavor to help others do, and in my own life that is what I strive to do as well. It’s good work. It is also, however, hard work. Very hard work.

You would think that a dog wouldn’t be able to assist us in learning to be true to who we are and what we believe, but once again, Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle has proven her Yoda-like ability to uncover our blind spots and areas still in need of work. In helping her become her best and truest curly haired, four legged girl, we wanted to teach her good canine etiquette when walking across any kind of threshold. Bottom line? The human always goes first. Always. This isn’t just about teaching her good manners, it is also about keeping us two-legged types safe. Whether walking through a doorway or gate, getting out of a car or going down the stairs, if she bolts ahead, the human in the equation is at risk. Think broken hip, twisted ankle, sprained knee, dislocated shoulder, or concussion. We have concrete floors in our home, and just one fall could change the course of someone’s health history, so we committed to being consistent in how we approached any threshold. If she got ahead of us, back she would come, and we’d try it again.

We’ve decided that I’m the Alpha of the pack, which means that I do the majority of the training, and this particular issue has always been front and center on my radar screen. It didn’t, however, always seem to be front and center for Tom, as he would often not notice when she would barge ahead of him down the stairs or through a door. When I (less than gently) pointed this out to him, he replied that he agreed with the idea in principle, but didn’t always remember (aka choose) to put it into practice. The thing is, Gracie’s a dog, and as smart as she is, principles don’t matter to her. The only way she knows who we are (the ones in charge) and what we believe (the human always goes first) is by what we practice. 

I’ve promised Tom that I will only throw him under the bus if I am willing to crawl under there with him. Front and center on Tom’s radar screen is the commitment to the principle of not letting food spoil. In practice that means always putting ice in the cooler when bringing groceries home from the store, and always putting the food out on the counter back in the refrigerator promptly. He not only preaches it (gently), he practices it. Me? I think it’s a great idea, and I agree with it in principle, but don’t always remember (aka choose) to put it into practice, but like Gracie, the leftover pork loin or package of chicken thighs don’t care about the principle, only the practice.

In truth, we humans are no different. Whether as parents, partners, politicians, pastors, colleagues, managers,  or friends, people know who we are and what we believe not by what we profess, but only by what we practice.

One of the principles Tom and I share is that we are one another’s priorities, and so, he is being diligent to go ahead of Gracie, and I am being diligent to keep our food from spoiling. In other words, we’re practicing putting our money where our bark is.

The Doctor Is In

When we got Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle, little did we know that we were also getting our very own four-legged marriage counselor.

Tom and I have done a lot of work over the course of our 25 year marriage, and have a deep trust in and respect for one another, but somehow Dr. Gracie has a way of showing us that these two old dogs still need to learn some new relationship tricks.

We’ve adopted an approach to raising Gracie that will equip her to have the freedom we want her to enjoy here at home, and out in the big wide world on all of our shared adventures. Just when we think we are on the same page on what that approach means, we learn that we aren’t.

And then we have to talk about it.

Again.

After another conversation to clear the air and our understanding, we’re on a new page together, until we learn that we aren’t.

And then we have to talk about it.

Again.

Our little chocolate girl is helping us to dig a little deeper into our own fears and hurts that have been buried under long ago frozen ground, and bring them to the surface where we can lay them at one another’s feet as food for deeper conversation, leading to deeper understanding, leading to deeper connection.

We’ve got Dr. Gracie, but dog owners or not, we all have people and situations smack dab in the middle of our lives that have to potential to teach us new relationship tricks. While It will probably mean that we will have to dig deeper into our own fears and hurts, Gracie will tell you it’s totally worth it!

Family Reunion

Today, Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle had a brief reunion with her dad Gryffindor, and her sister Piper. The last time these three family members were together was on December 1st, and I will never forget Gracie’s first night at home. That’s because I was awake all night, as she howled and cried in her crate next to our bed until it was time to get up.

It was her first night away from the only family she had ever known, and her loneliness and pain were heard in every high pitched cry. I can’t even imagine how scary and confusing that must have been for her. The next night, Tom suggested that we move her crate into the mudroom, and that one of us sleep on the floor next to her for a few nights, as she began to adjust to her new pack,. Tom took the first night, I took the next one, and by the third night, she was ready to sleep on her own.

She was home, and we were family.

Watching her reconnect with her first family today, it was easy to see that they recognized one another immediately, as they sniffed and wagged, sniffed and wagged, and of course, sniffed some more. Looking at Gracie and Piper, I could see the similarities - the shape of their faces and their body size - and the differences - their color and the texture of their coats. Like all of us, their shared genetics and early experiences have shaped the pups that they are today, and will continue to influence who they become as they mature.

As I watched this family reunion in progress, I was reminded that there’s no getting around it, family is family. And whether we stick together like glue, or hope we never see one another again, our family is always a part of who we are. There are no perfect families, and most of ours are a mixture of the good, the bad, and the seriously ugly, and we get to choose what to do with the family we’ve got. When it comes to family, it seems that the very best we can do is to celebrate every single shred of goodness, learn and grow from the bad, and heal from and leave behind the ugly so as not to pass it on to the next generation.

Driving away from that sweet reunion, I was grateful once again for yet another lesson from our Gracie-Girl, and for the fact that we two legged types don’t have to sniff and wag in order to recognize family.