Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Lessons from an Unruly Pooch

You'd  think that as the completely dog-obsessed pup lover that I am, it would have occurred to me sooner that my love for dogs is much deeper than just the endorphin rush I get by seeing their cute little tails wag, begging for my attention when I see them. Apparently, there's a lot of wisdom waiting to be uncovered in the world of a dog.

And today, I got a very good lesson, thanks to 3 unruly dogs in a mansion.


I recently got a job as a pet sitter, where I have the bittersweet pleasure of being responsible for other people's pampered pooches and million dollar homes while they are out of town (no pressure, or anything...).

Last night was my first night on the job in a huge house with 3 dogs who not only aren't the most well-trained of doggies, but came with an encyclopedia of instructions from their very sweet, but "particular" owner...not to mention, the downstairs is furnished with nanny cams. Needless to say, I was a little nervous. I made a plethora of tiny errors that aren't that serious, but seemed catastrophically embarrassing to me, knowing I was being closely monitored (there's a lesson about intimidation in there, somewhere...).

As the night wore on, the combination of feeling like a deer in headlights, knowing I'm on camera, and the eery sensation of staying in a stranger's home with 3 dogs that don't know me very well, began to mount upon me. I was fighting thoughts of paranoia ranging from someone breaking in and killing me, to one of the dogs suddenly having a mental break and biting me in the face (I've been bitten in the face twice when I was younger, just missing my eye...it's a wonder I love them so much!).

Fear flooded my chest and though I tried to sleep, I couldn't slow my pulse enough to get any slumber; I could feel anxiety in liquid form, poisoning my body and making my heart race as it pumped through my veins. Because my dad died of a heart attack when I was young, the fear of death due to my heart stopping will come against me from time to time, and my elevated heart rate made this night one of those times.

Basically, the enemy was having a field day with me, preying on my every fear. 

It was a rough night...

Which turned into a rough morning.

Instead of sharing what I did wrong, how about I just say, what didn't I do wrong? The worst of which was forgetting to disarm the alarm before letting the dogs out into the backyard, which set it off and made the cops show up.

Yeah. Not that great of a way to start your day.

Anyway, I promise there's a point to this pathetic story...


When I got home, I just cried to my husband about how stupid I felt, and how paranoid I was that my body was reacting the way it was. He understood, as he is going through his own physical symptoms related to our unhealthy lifestyles as of late.

I finally got a few hours of rest, but when I woke up I didn't feel much better. I knew I just had to go to Jesus and it would all be removed, but I was guiltily aware of my shortcomings and was mentally counting all the ways I screwed up that week. I felt a sense of unworthiness to come to Him after I had been pushing Him away in fear of being punished for all the stupid decisions I had recently made.

But as soon as I chose to let all of that go and fall back into His arms, something comically wonderful happened...He kicked me.


Yes, kicked.


How about a little bit of context?

I've been watching a ton of "The Dog Whisperer," lately (if you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and watch an episode or two, if not for educational purposes, just for the sake of being amused). This man is a genius and will completely rewire the way you think about dog behavior and the way we should interact with them.

Anyway, one of the things he does is rehabilitate dogs who are marked as dangerous, or "beyond help," simply by teaching the owners how dogs actually think. Most of the dogs on this show are canines that get completely out of control and either walk YOU on the leash, or get aggressive towards people while outside in the neighborhood.

Cesar Milan uses this one simple trick that works 100% of the time: if he sees a dog beginning to get tense and full of nervous energy, he will give it a tiny tap on the butt that resembles a kick. Immediately, it snaps the dog out of its anxious state and redirects his energy toward him.

Suddenly, the dog is reminded that the person on the other end of the leash should be his focus, that this person is calm and trustworthy and will protect him, not the other way around, and he has no reason to be anxious.

Starting to see where I'm going with this?


I laughed in my bed after feeling Holy Spirit giving me a swift little tap. It jolted me out of my fear, my anxiety, and put my focus back on Him. Glorious peace!


Many Christians struggle with the idea that God inflicts pain in order to punish us when we mess up. Surely someone walking by Cesar Milan as he gives a dog a swift tap on the butt with his foot would assume he was hurting the dog as a means to punish bad behavior, and would probably cry "animal cruelty." But in reality, it's just a gentle but firm "tap" that the dog actually responds to positively! The anxiety I was experiencing, the weird feelings in my chest, these were not God inflicting pain in order to punish me for the overflow of mistakes I had made that week, but giving me a slight "tap," letting me know that I was going down the wrong path and He loved me too much to see me go any further.

Proverbs 3:11-12 says, "My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline, and do not resent his rebuke. For the Lord corrects those He loves, just as a father corrects a child in whom he delights."

Three different Hebrew words are used in this situation for discipline, rebuke, and correct, and none of them have to do with inflicting pain for punishment. In fact, they all refer to instruction and learning. Some translations even use the words "warning." God will always give us a warning if we are veering off track. The most common way we veer off track (and what I was doing), is taking our eyes off of Him.

Just like the dogs who begin to get anxious and disobedient when their focus is on external circumstances, we open the door for fear and anxiety the moment we choose to take our eyes off of Jesus. I would not have had such a rough night if I had firmly fixed my eyes on Him. If I had chosen to look to Him to protect me from everything swirling around me in this strange place I found myself, I would have slept like a baby.

The kingdom really is easy enough for a child like me to understand! Oh, and dogs, too...ah, the foolish things of this world! Gotta love the way God works. :)


The next time you're experiencing fear and anxiety --and who doesn't from time to time?-- just remember who holds the leash. Put your eyes back on Him and let everything else fade away. You can trust Him to walk you on the right path and protect you from every external circumstance as you go. He's got a firm trustworthy grip on our lives so we don't have to pull so hard that we choke.

We can just walk alongside our Master and receive peace as our portion.

I've got a feeling tonight in that huge house is going to be a lot better this time around.





Saturday, February 1, 2014

Growing up is for Grown-ups

It's the first day of February, and my Christmas tree is still up.

Ironically, this is helping me to realize that somewhere along the way through 2013, I started to become a grown-up. Why? Because it's actually starting to really bother me that it's still there. Don't let my comments of "Why take it down if it's still looking healthy and green?" fool you: it may have been true last year, but this time around I'm saying that to avoid admitting the dreadful truth to myself:

I'm actually really, truly, undoubtedly, unavoidably, becoming an adult. 

And what's even scarier to admit is that it isn't actually as bad as I always believed it would be.

I spent the entirety of my life vehemently denying that I would ever grow up, claiming everything from "I can just stay like this forever and it's fine," to "being a grown-up is boring and burdensome."

And don't even get me started on using the word "woman" to describe myself....eeeesh! That's like a curse word, in my vocabulary!

But something about turning 25 last April (how annoyingly cliché) triggered that "thing" that I always scoffingly denied would ever be triggered in me, and I found myself waking up one morning with the unavoidable knowledge that I wasn't a little girl, anymore...and maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought.


I see people the same age as me, or around the same age, who seem to have their whole lives figured out according to what the unwritten rules of society say you should do/have done by this stage of life, and to be honest, instead of making me jealous, it has always made me want to vomit; people I went to high school with buying houses, having babies, settled into a job that they undoubtedly plan to stay at until they croak. All the more reason to stay a kid, forever! That life is so booooooooooring!

While I know there's something intrinsically purposeful to why I've always felt that way, I'm beginning to see that a lot of that perception was based in fear; Fear that if I grow up, I'm going to inevitably become all the things that I hate.

It's been a process, but what God has begun to show me this past year is that growing up does not need to look like the status quo. It's not equivalent to a white-picket fence, or wearing stuffy clothing, or living and dying in a 9 to 5 that leaves no room to actually live.

"Growing up" is realizing and acting on your potential to make your dreams a reality. 

...doesn't sound all that awful, anymore.


In the past year, I took a bunch of scary "big girl" steps that put me out of my comfort zone and at times, made me feel more overwhelmed and directionless than ever before. Not only that, but I'm sure that from the perspective of an outsider, it looked completely immature and foolish. Yet, it's led me to a place where I am being less childish than I've ever been, and taking risks that I never thought I'd take, all in the name of believing that I have the potential to live out the dreams God has placed in my heart. And I gotta admit, it's pretty exciting!


I believe that God is up to something in the church, and it's all about balance. Balance between two extremes, between the Type-A and the Type-B, between the Martha and the Mary.

Because more than anything, I think that true maturity is found in balancing the very necessary two extremes. And if Jesus is coming back for a bride who is a woman and not a girl, then you bet I want to be a grown-up!

In light of this, suddenly buying myself some makeup and trading in loud colorful patterns for a black leather jacket (courtesty of my wonderful husband who jokes that I won't be shopping at Limited Too, anymore) feels less like dress-up and more like me, and believing that I have what it takes to start and sustain my own business is more of a truth than a laughable fantasy. Little by little I'm making peace with those "pesky Type-A traits," that I hated so much, because I realize that without them, I'll have no framework to live out my dreams (who can travel the world at the drop of a hat if they never have clean laundry ready to pack?).

So maybe I will finally take down my Christmas tree tomorrow, or maybe I'll find some other excuse to leave it for another time. All I know is that luckily, God delights in the process of helping me grow up, and if it remains Christmas in that corner of my living room a little longer, at least I'm finding myself saying what my mother would say if she knew it was still up in February.

That's gotta count for something, right?