Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What a Blind Dog Taught Me
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What a Blind Dog Taught Me: "Dogs have always been a part of my life. Growing up in the country, we always had dogs. I remember the loyalty of my first dog, a collie n..."
What a Blind Dog Taught Me
Dogs have always been a part of my life. Growing up in the country, we always had dogs. I remember the loyalty of my first dog, a collie named Lassie. I remember how she would take my hand gently in her mouth and lead me to my Grandmother's house and wait at the back door to lead me home. I remember the sadness I felt when she died at 12 years old. I had never experienced the loss of a living thing that I loved so much. I learned lessons about life and death and handling grief at a young age. I can say without a doubt those lessons helped shape my young life.
Last week I learned that an old dog can still teach me a few things even at my age. My 10 year old "mostly" yellow lab, Bruiser, taught me a few things about resilience, and forgiveness. I got up like always on Tuesday morning and readied myself for work. A shower, shave and cup of coffee started me on my way out the back door to my Ford F-150. I have a habit of looking for Bruiser in his usual place at the corner of the house because I know he can't see and doesn't hear much better. Plus, if he does hear you the arthritis in his old joints keep him from moving too fast.
This morning I had other things on my mind and paid no attention to Bruiser's absence from his spot. I opened the door to my truck and climbed into the cab, buckled my seat belt, and turned the ignition. I sat there for about a minute letting the engine warm up before applying the brake and shifting the transmission into reverse. After slowly rolling backward for a few feet, I heard it, and knew exactly what I had done in a split second. A blood curdling "YELP" stopped me cold.
I quickly pulled forward a few feet, switched the engine off and jumped out of my truck. My eyes were met my the picture of Bruiser struggling to get to his feet without success. I ran to him repeating "oh no, oh no...what did I do?" I surveyed the damage quickly and it didn't look good. His left front leg was at an abnormal angle and I could see blood dripping from his mouth and a little around his nose. At this point I was convinced that I had dealt a fatal blow to this wonderful friend. All I could do was try to comfort him and see if he could hold on until we could get him to the hospital. Dana heard the yelp and was on the scene almost as soon as I was. She comforted me while I apologized to Bruiser. The Nurse in her then took over as she calmly told me he would be okay. She then went in to call the vet and retrieve a blanket.
Dr. Williams helped me and my son, Josh, get Bruiser into the exam room. He said he didn't see any serious injury other than the leg, but he quickly added, "He's an old dog with bad arthritis and we will just has to see how he reacts." On that cheerful note I headed to work and Dana and Josh headed home to wait on word from the vet.
Around lunchtime, Dana called and said that Dr. Williams had immobilized the leg and that we could pick Bruiser up and bring him home. I, as you can guess, left work a little early to come home and see my dog. I was amazed at how good he looked. Dr. Williams had explained his concern was whether or not Bruiser would get up and walk. We tried to get him up, but he would have none of it. My spirits were pretty low that evening. About 9 pm I told Josh I was going to check on him in the garage. Josh came with me. To my great surprise and relief, he was not in the garage. Josh went to the front of the house and I went to the back. Josh quickly yelled, "He's up here dad!" I was even more amazed to see that he was half way up the 21 steps that lead to our front door. We helped him negotiate the last 10 steps and made him a comfortable spot to rest.
I have been amazed at how resilient Bruiser has been over the last week. What a lesson in taking difficulty and willing yourself forward. No one would have blamed Bruiser if he had given up. But he not only didn't give up...he never complained. The YELP he exclaimed when I first ran over him was the only whimper I heard him utter. Not even a whine. And he gave me the one thing I desperately needed...forgiveness! Bruiser never failed to wag his tail and let me know that he still loved me.
Although, Dana did observe that Bruiser was anxious to get onto the front porch that night because he knew that was the one spot in the yard that I could not get my truck! Bruiser's even smarter than I thought he was in that case.
Lesson learned.
Last week I learned that an old dog can still teach me a few things even at my age. My 10 year old "mostly" yellow lab, Bruiser, taught me a few things about resilience, and forgiveness. I got up like always on Tuesday morning and readied myself for work. A shower, shave and cup of coffee started me on my way out the back door to my Ford F-150. I have a habit of looking for Bruiser in his usual place at the corner of the house because I know he can't see and doesn't hear much better. Plus, if he does hear you the arthritis in his old joints keep him from moving too fast.
This morning I had other things on my mind and paid no attention to Bruiser's absence from his spot. I opened the door to my truck and climbed into the cab, buckled my seat belt, and turned the ignition. I sat there for about a minute letting the engine warm up before applying the brake and shifting the transmission into reverse. After slowly rolling backward for a few feet, I heard it, and knew exactly what I had done in a split second. A blood curdling "YELP" stopped me cold.
I quickly pulled forward a few feet, switched the engine off and jumped out of my truck. My eyes were met my the picture of Bruiser struggling to get to his feet without success. I ran to him repeating "oh no, oh no...what did I do?" I surveyed the damage quickly and it didn't look good. His left front leg was at an abnormal angle and I could see blood dripping from his mouth and a little around his nose. At this point I was convinced that I had dealt a fatal blow to this wonderful friend. All I could do was try to comfort him and see if he could hold on until we could get him to the hospital. Dana heard the yelp and was on the scene almost as soon as I was. She comforted me while I apologized to Bruiser. The Nurse in her then took over as she calmly told me he would be okay. She then went in to call the vet and retrieve a blanket.
Dr. Williams helped me and my son, Josh, get Bruiser into the exam room. He said he didn't see any serious injury other than the leg, but he quickly added, "He's an old dog with bad arthritis and we will just has to see how he reacts." On that cheerful note I headed to work and Dana and Josh headed home to wait on word from the vet.
Around lunchtime, Dana called and said that Dr. Williams had immobilized the leg and that we could pick Bruiser up and bring him home. I, as you can guess, left work a little early to come home and see my dog. I was amazed at how good he looked. Dr. Williams had explained his concern was whether or not Bruiser would get up and walk. We tried to get him up, but he would have none of it. My spirits were pretty low that evening. About 9 pm I told Josh I was going to check on him in the garage. Josh came with me. To my great surprise and relief, he was not in the garage. Josh went to the front of the house and I went to the back. Josh quickly yelled, "He's up here dad!" I was even more amazed to see that he was half way up the 21 steps that lead to our front door. We helped him negotiate the last 10 steps and made him a comfortable spot to rest.
I have been amazed at how resilient Bruiser has been over the last week. What a lesson in taking difficulty and willing yourself forward. No one would have blamed Bruiser if he had given up. But he not only didn't give up...he never complained. The YELP he exclaimed when I first ran over him was the only whimper I heard him utter. Not even a whine. And he gave me the one thing I desperately needed...forgiveness! Bruiser never failed to wag his tail and let me know that he still loved me.
Although, Dana did observe that Bruiser was anxious to get onto the front porch that night because he knew that was the one spot in the yard that I could not get my truck! Bruiser's even smarter than I thought he was in that case.
Lesson learned.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Foxholes and Airplanes
I'm sure you have heard the saying, "There are no atheist in foxholes!" This refers to the belief that under the stressful situation of war and more specifically with the prospect of death so close at hand, everyone will pray and ask God to save them. We could debate the reality of this conclusion, but certainly this type of situation strips the unimportant issues of life from our minds.
Since I thankfully do not spend any time in foxholes, I can't relate to the veracity of this conclusion. I can, however; relate to a similar analogy. When you are strapped into the seat of an airplane at 30,000 feet you can quickly rationalize your priorities. If your man-made vehicle fails to reach its destination, the important decisions of life are distilled quickly.
I have found this to be a great place to engage my fellow travelers in dialogue. I enjoy meeting new people. After years of traveling you develop a sense of those people that want to engage in conversation and those that wish to be left alone. You may be surprised to learn that very few people refuse to talk about their favorite subject. You now ask, "How do I know their favorite subject?" That is the easy part. Everyone's favorite subject is themselves!
On a recent flight, I was sitting in my window seat on a Southwest flight from Jacksonville to Nashville. An older gentleman took the aisle seat and I watched the passengers coming down the aisle to see who would take the center seat. A young dark haired man made eye contact with the seat right away and politely pointed to the seat and asked the older gentleman if the seat was taken. He collapsed into the seat and immediately extended his hand, "Hi, I am Corey." Grasping his extended hand I replied, "Nice to meet you Corey. I am Barry." It was very clear this friendly young man had been drinking in the airport bar prior to taking the plane. He was not beyond the point of self-control, but his jaw was lubricated pretty well. In this case, I did not have to ask Corey about his favorite subject because he started telling me about it right away. "I work for a turf company in Franklin, Tennessee and am working on several project here in North Florida," He volunteered. With little provocation he began to explain the ups and downs of the turf business.
When engaging a new friend in conversation, I usually follow the pattern of business to leisure to personal. If someone will discuss what they do they generally will discuss more personal things. I usually move to a more personal question like, "Corey, what do you do when you are not selling and installing turf?" This opened up into a wide range of subjects from sports to his fiancee. Next, you probe with a deeper question like, "Where did you grow up?" I have found that in the United States, if you ask enough questions, a person will always get to a story about Christian influence. Corey shared the influence his grandparents had on him. He reminised about the many summers spent with his grandparents, working on their farm. He became a little more subdued as he described the simple faith they demonstrated. He talked about the small country church they attended and how much he missed them.
At this point, you have made the connection and it is important to be sensitive to trust bestowed upon you. The goal is not to bring about an emotional experience. The goal is to cause them to think about what is important and prioritize life accordingly. We talked about those things for the remainder of the flight. We talked about family, legacy and significance. And then the final "foxhole" question, "Corey, if this plane were not to make it to our final destination, what is the only important question we have to answer?"
I'm not sure what decision Corey made. As we landed in Nashville, he shook my hand once again and said, "It was nice to meet you and you have given me a lot to think about." Pray the Holy Spirit will continue to knock on the door to his heart.
Since I thankfully do not spend any time in foxholes, I can't relate to the veracity of this conclusion. I can, however; relate to a similar analogy. When you are strapped into the seat of an airplane at 30,000 feet you can quickly rationalize your priorities. If your man-made vehicle fails to reach its destination, the important decisions of life are distilled quickly.
I have found this to be a great place to engage my fellow travelers in dialogue. I enjoy meeting new people. After years of traveling you develop a sense of those people that want to engage in conversation and those that wish to be left alone. You may be surprised to learn that very few people refuse to talk about their favorite subject. You now ask, "How do I know their favorite subject?" That is the easy part. Everyone's favorite subject is themselves!
On a recent flight, I was sitting in my window seat on a Southwest flight from Jacksonville to Nashville. An older gentleman took the aisle seat and I watched the passengers coming down the aisle to see who would take the center seat. A young dark haired man made eye contact with the seat right away and politely pointed to the seat and asked the older gentleman if the seat was taken. He collapsed into the seat and immediately extended his hand, "Hi, I am Corey." Grasping his extended hand I replied, "Nice to meet you Corey. I am Barry." It was very clear this friendly young man had been drinking in the airport bar prior to taking the plane. He was not beyond the point of self-control, but his jaw was lubricated pretty well. In this case, I did not have to ask Corey about his favorite subject because he started telling me about it right away. "I work for a turf company in Franklin, Tennessee and am working on several project here in North Florida," He volunteered. With little provocation he began to explain the ups and downs of the turf business.
When engaging a new friend in conversation, I usually follow the pattern of business to leisure to personal. If someone will discuss what they do they generally will discuss more personal things. I usually move to a more personal question like, "Corey, what do you do when you are not selling and installing turf?" This opened up into a wide range of subjects from sports to his fiancee. Next, you probe with a deeper question like, "Where did you grow up?" I have found that in the United States, if you ask enough questions, a person will always get to a story about Christian influence. Corey shared the influence his grandparents had on him. He reminised about the many summers spent with his grandparents, working on their farm. He became a little more subdued as he described the simple faith they demonstrated. He talked about the small country church they attended and how much he missed them.
At this point, you have made the connection and it is important to be sensitive to trust bestowed upon you. The goal is not to bring about an emotional experience. The goal is to cause them to think about what is important and prioritize life accordingly. We talked about those things for the remainder of the flight. We talked about family, legacy and significance. And then the final "foxhole" question, "Corey, if this plane were not to make it to our final destination, what is the only important question we have to answer?"
I'm not sure what decision Corey made. As we landed in Nashville, he shook my hand once again and said, "It was nice to meet you and you have given me a lot to think about." Pray the Holy Spirit will continue to knock on the door to his heart.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
I Will Remember David
Tuesday was an eventful day. I had to go to Atlanta to the Brazilian Consulate in order to get a visa. After spending the morning taking care of those details, I had about 4 hours to kills before I could pick up my visa. I decided to go to a local Starbucks to grab a sandwich and coffee while I used their wireless internet.
As I entered my eyes met a gentleman sitting at the first table. We acknowledged each other with a nod. He was a friendly looking sort, probably in his early 70s. I placed my order and found my way to a table along the wall where I could plug in my laptop. Since I had a little time I decided to work on a paper I was writing for my missions class. I had my books beside me. I was busily flipping back and forth between them as I wrote my paper. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone standing beside me. It was my friend from the first table. He stuck out his hand and said, "Hi, I'm David." I grasped his hand and told him my name. He immediately pointed at my books and asked, "What are you working on?" Thus started a long conversation.
I invited David to sit down. His hair was slightly disheveled and the creases in his face told a story of many years. As he began to speak, I noticed his teeth were worn in an uneven pattern. "I was born in Dalton, Georgia." He began. "Went to Vanderbilt on a football scholarship and sold carpet for 40 years," He volunteered. As we talked I began to sense that David was suffering from a level of dementia. We talked about my paper and more specifically, I told him my story and how I became a follower of Christ and ultimately enrolled in a Master class at Liberty University. David asked question after question and followed each one with, "I need to learn more about that." He had a small pad with him and he would write down things we talked about in great detail with his large, unsteady hand.
I asked if he was here with anyone. He told me that his daughter had dropped him off on the way to a meeting and would be back in a couple of hours. I asked if he lived with her and he said that he did. "I decided it was best for me to live with her family at this time in my life", he said. He didn't elaborate, but the look we shared communicated what was not said. He politely thanked me and excused himself back to his table.
As I got up to leave, I stopped at his table and reached out my hand to say goodbye. He grasped my hand firmly, looked at me through squinted eyes and said, "I talked to you didn't I?" I replied, "Yes you did David. My name is Barry." He looked at his book, put a mark beside my name and said, "Oh yes. I have you right here. I will remember you."
I don't think David will remember me. I'm sure he will not, but at least he has my name written in his book and he has the details of our conversation written down. David may not remember me, but I will never forget David.
I invited David to sit down. His hair was slightly disheveled and the creases in his face told a story of many years. As he began to speak, I noticed his teeth were worn in an uneven pattern. "I was born in Dalton, Georgia." He began. "Went to Vanderbilt on a football scholarship and sold carpet for 40 years," He volunteered. As we talked I began to sense that David was suffering from a level of dementia. We talked about my paper and more specifically, I told him my story and how I became a follower of Christ and ultimately enrolled in a Master class at Liberty University. David asked question after question and followed each one with, "I need to learn more about that." He had a small pad with him and he would write down things we talked about in great detail with his large, unsteady hand.
I asked if he was here with anyone. He told me that his daughter had dropped him off on the way to a meeting and would be back in a couple of hours. I asked if he lived with her and he said that he did. "I decided it was best for me to live with her family at this time in my life", he said. He didn't elaborate, but the look we shared communicated what was not said. He politely thanked me and excused himself back to his table.
As I got up to leave, I stopped at his table and reached out my hand to say goodbye. He grasped my hand firmly, looked at me through squinted eyes and said, "I talked to you didn't I?" I replied, "Yes you did David. My name is Barry." He looked at his book, put a mark beside my name and said, "Oh yes. I have you right here. I will remember you."
I don't think David will remember me. I'm sure he will not, but at least he has my name written in his book and he has the details of our conversation written down. David may not remember me, but I will never forget David.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What is Our Response? (Part 4)
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What is Our Response? (Part 4): "It's New Years Eve! We have come to the end of another year which is also the end of another decade. I look back and realize thi..."
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What is Our Response? (Part 3)
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What is Our Response? (Part 3): "It's Christmas! No better time to understand and strengthen our beliefs, move our beliefs to convictions and transform those convictio..."
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What Is Our Response? (Part 2)
Thoughts on a Higher Road: What Is Our Response? (Part 2): "The first challenge was to understand what we believe expertly. How do we do that? Before we start with how, let's ask why? &nbs..."
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