The Square Peg

Bridget is hosting today's blog carnival. It's open to everyone; if you want to participate, go to her page and leave a comment with a link to your blog after you've posted your entry.

Love is the most powerful force in the universe. And from where I'm sitting, it seems there are 3 categories of 'love' we experience most often.

Casual - This is the kind of love we hear and see the most yet it has the shallowest meaning. It's never meant  in a deep, committed, or sacrificial kind of way.
"I love those shoes."
"I love your hair."
"I love to play golf."
"I love that song."
Casual love doesn't require us to do anything. We can use the word love to describe our feelings and not suffer any consequences when we change our mind. If you don't love those shoes any more, you just stop wearing them. Nobody cares and you won't be held accountable.  

Convenient - This is pretty straight-forward; as long as it's working, we love it.
I used to say I loved Arby's fast food until I lived in Wichita Falls, Texas. The only store in the city was located at the bottom of an exit off the freeway, didn't have a drive-thru and only took cash; no checks or debit cards. You had to really want Arby's to go there. After a few times of spending 30 minutes of my busy life trying to find a parking spot, walking inside and waiting in line, followed by sitting in traffic to get back on the freeway, I realized I didn't really love Arby's as much as I thought or claimed. The hassle wasn't worth the reward.

Sometimes it's convenient to love someone we think we can get something from...whether it's an inheritance, something he/she can do or provide that propels us forward at work, or gives us leverage, position, status or power.

This type of love has hurt me the most personally. Discovering I was convenient to love (and subsequently stop loving) cuts me deeper than being loved casually or conditionally for some reason and leaves me feeling like I've been sucker punched.

Conditional - This is closely related to convenient love but this is typically based on our performance (or lack thereof).
"You obviously don't have what it takes to be with someone like me"
"You called a few times but did you ever come over or offer to help financially?"
"If you can't try to understand me or what I need, then maybe we don't have anything worth fighting to save."

Since no one is able to perform the right way all the time, this type of love is extremely frustrating and typically unfair. It's pretty easy to spot though, because it doesn't take long to rear its ugly head.

Much of the time people who are love casually, conveniently or conditionally aren't even aware of it.

But there is another kind of love. And it also starts with a C.

It's Christ's love. But His love isn't anything like the ones I listed previously. In fact, His love is the polar opposite because there's nothing casual, convenient, or conditional about His love for humanity. He's committed to us. He's all in. He's true blue.

But I think we sometimes try to put His love in the first three categories because we have a hard time grasping it. If I don't love you unconditionally, it's pretty easy for me to assume that God doesn't love me unconditionally, either. But that's so wrong...

If you have only experienced the first three types of love I listed, please hear me: God has crazy love for us and it's not affected by our performance, lack of faith, mistakes/failures, accolades we've received, our ability to study/teach His text, or make money.
He loves us because we exist.
And anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you.

This morning in church when Ollie was making the announcements about upcoming events, I realized I only have two Sundays left at Lifepoint. Don't ask me how, but I managed to miss that reality before today and it hit me like a ton of bricks and I started crying. I've said that I'm going to try hard not to compare any and all churches we visit to "the LP" but I know that's going to be really tough. So tough, in fact, I've wondered how long it'll be before I won't be tempted to do that. (My guess is quite a while. :-/)

I'm sure tears will fall frequently (and heavily) in the upcoming weeks but I'll move forward as I wipe my eyes and blow my nose, knowing that even though I'll miss the LP, I'm going to the new place I belong. (what a weird concept)

And I'm taking the LP spirit with me.

Because the planet needs more of it.

Zoe is a silly, snuggly, spotted, spirited bulldog and I love having her around. And while Zoe is fun, she's a whole lotta dog. She's a powerful, rambunctious, puppy who is completely unaware of her capacity to accidentally hurt someone. Playfully biting or rough-housing with someone could easily do some damage if her power and strength were to be misdirected or uncontrolled. It's for this reason that we try not to let her get into an excited state of mind (except when playing with her friends Karma, Darra and Rex--there's no controlling that excitement); we want a behaved dog, the kind of dog that wouldn't annoy our non-dog-loving visitors yet would behave nicely toward the visitors who welcome her affection and attention. She's a work in progress.

We humans aren't very different; we also have power that needs to be managed and directed the right way. Maybe we don't realize it, or sometimes we just forget, but we need to recognize the responsibility of its strengths and weaknesses.

Zoe's not built for running fast; she's more of a working dog. But when she comes loping into the room and plows her body weight into your thighs, you're going to know it...and it won't matter if she was going 5 mph or 55. Mocha, on the other hand (the dog we had to put down earlier this year), wasn't a working dog. Mocha was created to retrieve. It didn't matter if it was a tennis ball, a fake duck, or a golf ball; whatever you threw, she was going to bring it back. Moose used to stand in the back yard and hit golf balls onto the roof of the house and Mocha would stand nearby, listen very carefully and then run to the part of the roof the ball was going to drop from. Then she'd catch it and take it back to Moose and drop it at his feet so they could do it all over again. She lived to retrieve. Mocha's weakness to her power was that she didn't know when to quit. She'd overplay and hurt herself. And sometimes in her zeal, she'd stand too closely to a golf club and get hurt.


When directing our power and energy into something healthy, it can seem like we're unstoppable because we accomplish so much. But when it's not aimed in the right direction, damage is inevitable. Having a lot of power doesn't impress or affect progress if you spend all your time having to undo what you've done wrong and cleaning up the mess you've left behind.

A bull may be exceptionally powerful, but if the Farmer wants the bull to stand patiently while tied to the plow and wait for Him to return from the house, it doesn't matter if the bull can plow 2 acres an hour; what matters is his obedience. And therein lies our weakness; knowing when to use our power and when to harness it.

Still learning to use my powers for good instead of evil,
Eva

22 - The # of years (to the day) ago I went on a blind date (set up by my co-worker) and met Moose.
21 - The # of years ago I married him. I was 21. He was 23.
20 - The # of years the Air Force has been moving us around.
19 - the # of times in the day he tells me he loves me, my butt looks good in my jeans, or that I'm hot. I never get tired of hearing any of those things.
18 - The # of couches I think we've had that have been used and abused by my men wrestling on it.
17 - One of the anniversaries he missed because he was deployed. I was particularly sentimental about this one...17 years on the 17th...and it fell on a Saturday, the day of the week we married.
16 - The age Ryan started driving...and we learned there was a whole new dimension to praying, loving and worrying about your kid.
15 - The # of TDY's Moose has had.
14 - This how old Ryan was when Moose taught him to shave. It was a serious dad moment for Moose; he came out of the bathroom a little teary-eyed. His little buddy was rapidly becoming a man.
13 - The # of vehicles we've had...Chevy Sprint, Toyota Tercel wagon, Plymouth Grand Voyager, Chevy Luv, Ford Ranger, Ford F-150, Honda Accord, Hyundai Elantra, Chevy Suburban, Chevy Trailblazer, Ford Ranger, Hyundai Sonata, and an Acura TSX, whom I affectionately call "Jack".
12 - The # of months we spent in marriage counseling. Cost us $100 a week and thousands of $ in credit card debt. Dr. Scott's rule that our session couldn't be discussed for 24 hours (smart man), left us with no choice other than to go to Sears to anesthetize our pain. LOL Took us 3 years to pay it off. It was worth every, single penny.
11 - The # of houses/apartments/trailers we've lived in.
10 - The # of years we had a teenager under our roof. We survived, but not without accruing our fair share of gray hair.
9 - The # of jobs I've had.
8 - The # of dogs we've had: Beemer, Samantha, Mickey, Misery, Dixie, Willow, Mocha and Zoe
7 - The # of hours it takes to drive to TN to visit our family from Georgia. Closest we've lived since joining the AF.
6 - The # of times we've changed bases. Illinois, Washington, North Carolina, Georgia, Texas, and Georgia. 
5 - The # of wedding bands I've bought Brian. He bent 3 at work (to the point of being unwearable), lost 1, and then I got smart and bought one made out of tungsten. I couldn't get it engraved, but it's pretty much indestructible.
4 - The # of candles on Drew's birthday cake when we gave him a new bike. He broke his arm an hour later.
3 - Ryan's age when Brian adopted him. They celebrate their anniversary every July, sometimes in big ways, other times in small ways.
2 - The # of kids we had on our first wedding anniversary. We lived in Spokane, thousands of miles from home with a 3 year-old, a newborn, and no babysitter. It was a cozy celebration indeed.
1 - The number of months until we move to Germany and start a whole new adventure...just the two of us.

Some despise it.
Some have been hurt by it.
Some haven't 'represented' it very well.

But...
Our knowledge won't increase it...
                                 Our inabilities won't hinder it...
                                                               Our failures won't paralyze it...
                                                                                            Our enemy won't prevail against it...

It really is worth far more than we can begin to comprehend.

Except it's not an it.
We are it.
It is us.
It's a body.
It's a person.
It's the bride.
And the bride is cherished by a deeply, devoted King.


Thanks, Bridget. :D

I'm a little behind in doing this but I've been kinda busy.

Our request to change our leave date (which we asked for in case the orders didn't get here soon) was accepted. We fly out January 24th. And five months after receiving notification of our upcoming change of station, we got our orders. Now the pace picks up for us...scheduling packing shipments, shipping the truck, turning in my car (it's a lease) and deciding what goes in the suitcases and carry on bags will dominate our thoughts and direct our energies over the next 7 weeks. Those things will also be the direct cause of our stress and headaches during that time, as well as some time after.

We went to Louisiana to visit our friends for Thanksgiving. We had a great time and after having so much fun with Cheryl's girls, I am seriously petitioning God for granddaughters (just not right now).   Annaliese and Eleora played hopscotch and colored on the front porch with me and it rained during the night before we left. When Eleora woke up and saw our artwork had vanished, she told her mom our "skips" were gone. Here are a few pictures that are too cute not to share with you.

Yes, Eleora dressed herself. I think I laughed (or at least snickered) every time I looked at her. So precious!

• the EXTREMELY hot fire at the weenie roast. It was so hot Cheryl thought I was going to walk away from the bonfire with a tan.  The roasting sticks weren't long enough and I was afraid my eyebrows were going to be singed off. (When you read that last part, I hope you read 'singed' with the j sound. If you read it with the g sound, you're probably wondering how a fire could sing my eyebrows off.)
  
• the Tea Party...it was the first tea party I've ever attended. I wish I would've had time to go buy a hat and gloves for it.
  
• the four pounds of spinach dip Cheryl and I consumed at Grandmother's house on Thursday. Well, Troy said it was 4 pounds; Cheryl and I swear it couldn't have been more than 3 - 3.5 pounds tops.
  
• Eleora's sign language/hand gestures when asking for pumpkin bread. She looked like she was snapping a pencil in half while asking, "Miss Eva, can I have a piece of pumpkin bread?"
  
• Kael's numerous reminders to Moose that the boys had to play Halo before bed time. Kael's only 7 years old but he had more kills than Moose did.
  
• Watching Home Alone in the dark and hearing the kids laugh and shriek all the way through it. Especially when Joe Pesci's character's head caught on fire.
• Trying to corral the two dogs when they were in the room with the little kids was like trying to nail Jello to a tree. I think Gabriel got knocked down and/or bumped a record number of times. To say he didn't appreciate it would be putting it mildly.
  
• The ridiculously long, wrong, King Kong trip and order at Starbucks on Black Friday night. (OK, so King Kong wasn't involved in any way, but I wanted to include another "ong" word.) I bet Troy never suggests stopping by Starbucks again. The girl at the window actually told him, "it's Black Friday and we had our butts handed to us all day long." Troy's order was the only one that was correct on the first go-round, even though all the drinks had been repeated to us correctly when going back over the order.
• Troy's one good eye - So Troy has something wrong with one of his eyes and it requires drops to be put in it. The drops cause his eye to dilate...yet he still beat Moose at golf. And read street signs from far distances. And spotted details the rest of us missed in the video game we played. All with "my one good eye". LOL

So there, my souvenir from Thanksgiving--bloggy style. It'll have to do. For now, anyway.
Peace out.

Today I attended the funeral of a friend's dad. "Grandpa" was retired from the Air Force, worked for the public school system and was a volunteer fireman, among other things. He was a noble kind of man, the kind we don't have enough of in this world.

A person didn't have to spend a lot of time with Grandpa to know how much he loved his family, to know that he was an honest, hard-working man, or that he was a generous person. I don't say that Grandpa was generous because he gave money (although he did); he was generous because he gave himself...to his wife, his children, his co-workers and neighbors. And the impact he had on people's lives was very evident today at his service. His children spoke of him with love, admiration, and deep respect. That's not common enough these days, in my opinion. As I was driving to the burial site, I noticed a flag in the distance being flown at half staff. I knew in my gut it was in honor of Grandpa, but couldn't guess who was flying it. It was the Fire Station. And as I approached, I saw the men on duty had pulled one of the trucks out of the bay and parked it by the side of the road with its lights on. And while the mile-long line of cars drove by, the men on duty stood at attention and saluted the procession. I gasped out loud when I saw them because it was neat to see that kind of  respect displayed. And today was a nasty day to be standing outside. It was incredibly blustery and cold, but those men didn't move until we had all passed by.

I've never been to an interment that was attended by the Honor Guard. That was quite a sight to behold. An American flag had been draped over Grandpa's casket and I was standing very near the team at the cemetery as they removed it so it could be folded and presented to his wife. Until today, I didn't know it was possible to fold a piece of fabric with such a high degree of respect, dignity, and honor. Each fold of the material was followed by a trace of its crease to be sure it was right, and the precision of their movements mirrored the pride with which the Honor Guard pays homage to its service-members. From the opening prayer to the gun salute and playing of 'Taps', Grandpa's life of honor was reflected in today's celebration of his life.

Living an honorable life really does mean something. Showing respect to our flag and the people who serve and have served to defend it really does mean something. Honesty, integrity and ethics really do mean something.

Did you know American Bulldogs were equipped with a built-in thermometer? At least, ours is. When Zoe's cold (or way too hot), her normally pale pink skin brightens up so much it begins to resemble the color of the stuff you drink when you're nauseated. Her display panel is pretty easy to read though: no pink color = no worries. Bright pink color indicates warmth (or cooling) is needed. And apparently, I have the deluxe model American Bulldog because mine also has a state-of-the-art 'tired barometer'. That handy, little gadget measures how tired she is. Its display is easy to read, too. The farther out her bottom lip sticks (compared to the top), the more tired she is. On a typical day, her skin hovers at a shade of very pale pink, and the barometer doesn't engage until around 9-ish each evening. (No, the barometer doesn't really have anything to do with this post; I just included that bit of information so you'd have it. You know, in case you ever need it. 'Cause I'm generous like that.)

I've never been a fan of animals wearing clothes. It creeps me out and makes me question the emotional stability of the person who wants to dress an animal like a human. It's not like they aren't already covered with fur, hair, feathers, scales, or whatever, right? However, Zoe the wonder dog has short, thin fur and she's always cold. It probably doesn't help that we practically keep our house cold enough to hang meat. (What can I say? We're a hot-blooded bunch.) I don't even fold the blankets that we keep in the living room any more because Zoe is usually lying on or burrowed under one of them. But Old Man Winter has finally come to middle Georgia and we've had to bundle up when we head out for our evening walks. (And you know it's cold when I wear a scarf AND gloves. I didn't even wear gloves when we went hiking in Alaska in December a few years ago!). And ever since OMW arrived, Zoe's skin has been bright pink.

So, I caved. I kicked and screamed all the way, but I caved nonetheless. Zoe the wonder dog now has 3, count 'em, 3 coats. The first one is waterproof for evening/wet walks. It's also reversible. You know, because we wouldn't want her to get tired of wearing the same, old thing all the time, right? Yeah, right.

The second is a fleece hoodie (with sleeves for her front legs) in red and black, so she can represent the beautiful Georgia Bulldawg Nation wherever she goes. You know, because she loves football so much. Yeah, right.

The third item is (ironically enough) a pepto-bismol pink sweater embellished with a snowman, snowflakes and bling. Yes, bling. On a dog's sweater. I know, it's totally ridiculous. But the dog needed something to keep her warm when we walk and when she lies around the house all day goes into her undercover stealth mode as she faithfully protects her turf every day, so she might as well look good, right? Yeah, right. Actually, I don't give a rip about the cute factor but I do give a rip about the ugly factor. And they had some *fugly* stuff out there for dogs. Didn't argyle die around the same time as Babe Ruth? Well, it should have. What is WRONG with pet apparel designers, these days?! There were designs and colors in the store that humans shouldn't be wearing, much less putting them on our beloved pets.

Huh.

So I guess if what they say about dogs beginning to resemble their owners after a while is true, then it stands to reason the old man/woman who likes to wear argyle would want to dress little Fido in it, too. And I would, of course, want Zoe to be trendy and fashion forward in her dress.

OK, so maybe I care a little more about the cute factor than I realize or am willing to admit. But I'm drawing the line at jewelry and all that other crap. Because it's ridiculous.

I'd like to go on record: I still think it's creepy. But since all the bald and/or balding men I know wear hats in the winter, there's bound to be some kind of wisdom in covering a non- or thinly-veiled outer surface that makes it copy-cat dog worthy.  (Sorry. I couldn't help myself.)

Being the good bloggy chick that I am, I'm posting a couple of pictures. Go ahead and laugh; I did.
Those little, tiny dots are iridescent sequins. Which is fancy-talk for "bling". Ridiculous.

Here we have Zoe (who is sawing some serious logs) in her fleece hoodie. Her waterproof, reversible jacket is above her.

















Have a ridiculously doggone good day, y'all.

Thanks for hosting today's blog carnival, Peter.

When people hear the word grief, thoughts typically gravitate toward the death of a friend or family member. But grief reaches beyond death, and today I'm going to share a couple of the things I'm grieving.

• I'm grieving a relationship that appears to have ended. I knew it was going to change but I expected the change to come after I moved. I knew I'd miss my friend and our time together, but I never dreamed I'd miss her while I was still living here. My heart wasn't prepared for this and I'm struggling to accept the way things are right now.
  

•  I attend a really amazing church and with each week that goes by, I become increasingly aware of how much I'm going to miss it. Podcasts are posted online but it won't be the same as being there. I've never felt like I belonged or fit in any church I've attended as much as Lifepoint.
  

• And five months later, it still feels weird without Mocha being a part of our evening walks.

Because I believe we can't fully appreciate life, joy, fun or happiness without experiencing grief, I won't fixate on what's missing. I'll turn my focus to what I have had: fun memories with my friend; I'll purposefully resist the temptation to compare every church we visit to LP, and I'll remember the nine years we spent laughing at our chocolate lab, throwing her tennis ball so much I thought my arm was going to fall off, and the way she seemed to believe everyone who entered our house was here to play ball or swim with her. And in a weird way, it's comforting to know this season of life will serve to grow and stretch me as much (or more) as any other.

Peace.