Dogs and Redemptive Love

I just wanted to walk down the beach and slap the pier--well, that's not really true. I wanted to run down the beach and slap the pier. But since I'm 4 1/2 months post total knee replacement, I had almost resigned myself with that not happening.

Eleven weeks ago we came to the beach during my recovery. I had just been told I could stop using my cane, but I had also been told to be very careful--to not walk much on the beach as it is unstable--so basically I was told walk down to the beach and then just sit. It was not an easy week. So this week was very important to me. It was going to be a redemptive week.

Off the dogs and I went at a fast pace. We got to the pier, and I slapped the fire out of it. I slapped it as a sign of victory and accomplishment, and I slapped it out of frustration and pain. And it felt good.

We turned and began the 2.27 miles back. (Told you I've done this many many times) Bobby was not keeping up. I'd turn around slightly and encourage him, but he was falling further and further behind. I was getting more and more frustrated. I wanted to keep my pace fast and consistent. He was totally ruining it. I decided I would just keep walking and when I got to the path back to the house I'd wait on him.

I got to the path, turned around, and I could see Bobby NOWHERE! I began to panic--how was I going to go back in the house and tell Caroline I had lost her dog. I suddenly knew well the panic Chris felt when he lost William at the Pirates game--possibly a slight exaggeration.

I started walking back to the beach frantically wishing my hysteria away. A half a mile back I found him. My relief was instantaneous and then I was completely irritated. Now not only does he bark at everyone as though he owns the beach, but he also can't keep up. He was ruining everything. My plan had been to walk to the pier EVERY day. Clearly this was not going to be possible for Bobby, and the dogs and I have a routine. There was no way I was going to be able to bring Winnie down and not Bobby. I mean I could, but then Bobby would bark non-stop and wake Caroline. My fear of that far surpassed my fear of losing him.

I'll admit it--I began to pout. And I continued to pout all morning and well into the afternoon. I complained to The Babies non-stop. They kept saying I could just try to leave him on the porch; I wouldn't hear or consider it; there's a possibility I was enjoying the pout.

Then I had a brilliant idea. I would send him home with William on Thursday and board him for the weekend. The week could possibly be saved. It was the perfect plan and it was made even more perfect when the vet just happened to call for another reason and just happened to have a cancellation that very day! Surely this was God at work!!

That evening I walked with the dogs down to the beach again. (My feathers weren't ruffled anymore and I had a plan...plus it is not tradition to walk to the pier in the evening.) As I was heading back to the house I turned around to check on the dogs. Winnie was waiting patiently for Bobby and suddenly I felt lower than a snake's belly in a rut.

I thought about June....

The dogs wanted to run. The dogs wanted the routine we have had for years. The dogs were confused. The dogs stayed with me. The dogs adapted. The dogs loved unconditionally.
And I forgot.

I forgot or maybe I just didn't care. It was about me--both in June and now. In June I needed love, care and comfort; the dogs provided it. This week I needed/wanted to prove myself (to whom I have no idea--I guess myself--darn I hate when I realize how selfish I am); Bobby was in my way. I was perfectly willing to cast him aside and to justify it by faith.

Bobby stayed. We made one more much slower walk to the pier and back. Bobby barked at everyone we saw. And it was okay.

I was reminded of community--of caring for one another. I was reminded that justifying selfish acts with faith is just, well it's just plain wrong. And yet it's so easy to do. I was reminded that in relationships we give and we take; we adjust so we can remain in relationship.

I was reminded of and received the power of redemptive love.

Reflection on The Masters and Humility from an Augusta Girl

I am responsible for Jack Nicklaus winning his sixth Masters in  1986.  Okay, maybe I'm not responsible for him winning, but I'm responsible for him not losing.  That at least is our family's story...

Back in 1986 there were very few houses in our neighborhood.  At the top of our street was a stop sign--or so I'm told--I actually never really stopped there.  Thursday morning as I was heading somewhere (who knows it was Masters of my senior year), I approached the top of the street and, well, I didn't stop.

BEEEEEEEP--swerve; brakes screeching.  I slammed on brakes and my heart felt like it stopped. There was an official Masters car.  The back door opened and out stepped non other than my favorite golfer Jack Nicklaus.  "Darling," he said, "That right there is a stop sign."  Tears started down my now very red face (see I cried all the time even back then), he patted my arm and said, "No harm done; just be careful.  Now I've got to get going."  Pure class--pure grace and at that moment he became and will always remain my all time favorite golfer.  (So maybe I didn't really help him win, but had I hit the car, well who knows? That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

From that day forward I became a devoted, loyal possibly slightly obsessed Jack Nicklaus fan.  For those who didn't get to grow up in Augusta, it's not uncommon for teens to have their favorite golfers and to follow them year after year.  Friendships develop--I can never hear Fred Couples name or see his picture without thinking of my high school friend Lee Shields who died way too soon in a way too tragic way, and whose magnetic smile was always brighter as she followed him year after year--and they became friends.  I love remembering Lee especially every spring...  Anyway, fast forward to 1997...

Chris and I were driving to the beach--I remember exactly where we were in Orangeburg SC--we were listening to our favorite radio station--ESPN (Isn't my husband a lucky man?).  Tiger Woods was being interviewed and the interviewer asked him what it was like being paired up with the great Jack Nicklaus and would he ask him for any tips.  I don't remember his exact words but it was something to the effect of "I play my own game."

"Are you kidding me?!?!?!"  I shrieked to Chris (keep in mind I was also 7 months pregnant so hormones didn't help).  "What about respect for those that came before you?  What about humility? What about tradition?  What about this is JACK NICKLAUS!!!"  And I instantly became as my family would jokingly call me, "The Tiger Hater."

Oh I was so pompous when Tiger fell into his personal unpleasantness (that's southern talk for things we don't want to talk about).  I strutted around like a peacock in a parade, "I told y'all.  No humility--total arrogance.  I knew it from the beginning." (I chose to ignore the fact that my strutting might be arrogant....)

This past Sunday we were watching the final round of this years Tournament.  I started texting my daddy and my sister (we tend to do that during sporting events).  I had just heard that when an interviewer asked Jordan Spieth how he remained so humble,  he responded, "Me speaking about humility is very difficult because that wouldn't be humility."  I fell in love (no he won't replace Jack Nicklaus in my heart, but I have a new golfer to follow--and I think it is awesome that Jack is nicknamed "The Golden Bear" and Jordan "The Golden Child.")  I fell in love even more when I read an article about him writing thank you notes!

So I'm texting and Daddy is responding egging me on as my family likes to do whenever Tiger Woods comes up.  Every time Tiger was on TV or won a tournament someone in my family would mention it to me to get a reaction.  My children learned it was a great way to get a reaction (one of them put a Sports Illustrated on my bed when he was on the cover--no one has confessed).  It became a joke--it was something we all laughed about. Suddenly it hit me--while this may be "funny" in our family, it's not funny--not even a little bit. My behavior shows no humility; my behavior has taught my children it's okay to make jokes at someone else's expense--someone we don't even know. I liked that I was "right."  Right as compared to?  I am so right that my behavior flies in the face of grace and redemption and God loves everyone no exceptions and we are all created in the image of God--things I preach every Sunday. But do I have to admit it, I mean publicly admit it?  It really was meant in jest...(sort of)

My behavior, my words, show no compassion, no mercy, no forgiveness.  My words only perpetuate judgement--everything I profess to detest.  I had a conversation last night with my dear, wise, mother of the toddler friend.  We were talking about racism and racist jokes.  She said, "Even when I hear them and I know the person telling them doesn't really believe it, it's offensive.  It's just wrong." Well slap my head and call me silly--or worse--call me a hypocrite.

It's not funny--it's not funny to cheer for someone else's pain--it's not right to judge--that's not our job. I don't have to like Tiger Woods; I suspect I won't begin to be a Tiger fan, but I can say I'll do my best to keep my mouth shut and to try to live into what I preach.  To try to live into the grace Jack Nicklaus showed me, the humility Jordan Spieth practices, and the truths that Emily Crouch lives. And you know the really humbling thing? I know people will grant me grace, forgiveness, and redemption as I change this behavior. Now if I can just learn to do the same.....