Remembering Sadie

When a friend phoned to tell me that her little dog was very ill and the vet had suggested she have her put down before the suffering gets any worse, I offered my sympathies and told her she shouldn’t wait too long or she’d surely regret it, as I once did.

Memories of Sadie came flooding back.

She was already six years old when we brought her home. I had just lost a Yorkie I loved and was certain I’d die if I didn’t have another right away! The breeder we always dealt with didn’t have any puppies but told me that she would have before long and I could get one as soon as they were ready to leave their mother. I didn’t want to wait that long, but agreed to do it since there seemed to be no alternative.

However, I had seen Sadie at the breeder’s house and fell in love with her cute actions. She seemed to be showing off for us. Mrs. Davis saw this and, after thinking it over for a day or two, called and asked if I’d like to take Sadie. I was thrilled!

From the time we walked in the front door with her, Sadie was “at home.” We put her food and water dishes down and she claimed them right away. She had been at the Davis home for six years, but it seemed she never looked back. We accepted her that easily, too. She was a member of the family from day one!

Sadie was six pounds of cute, bouncy, yappy Yorkie! And it was obvious she thought she ruled the house – her attitude conveying that to get into our house, you had to get by her first. And she definitely would not tolerate anyone who wore a hat or gloves. The yaps became more vicious sounding toward those who dared.

Since I fed her, brushed her and did most everything for her, she soon chose me as her “person.” Every time I sat down, she was there almost before I was, waiting until I got comfortable and then cuddling just as close as she possibly could. We watched TV together, took naps together and she wore her little body out following me all over the house on a busy day. When I had to leave the house without her, I was told that she very unhappily watched out the window the whole time I was gone – sometimes for hours.

We had eleven happy years with Sadie. During that time, my daughter got married and moved to Michigan – eight hours away. My husband and I took a trip to visit them about twice a year and, of course, Sadie came along. We’d put a pillow between us in the front seat and she’d curl up on it and sleep a good part of the way – at least until we stopped at Rax for a roast beef sandwich.

She seemed to know the minute we pulled into the parking lot. She’d sit up, look out the window and whine excitedly while my husband went inside and came back with the good smelling food. Oh, she just couldn’t wait for hers! I couldn’t get it unwrapped fast enough to suit her. Then she’d eat the yummy roast beef as fast as she could and as much of it as her little tummy would hold. Sometimes I feared she’d overdo and get sick... but she never did. When she’d finally stop eating, I’d give her a drink of water and take her for a short walk on her leash.

Once all that business was taken care of, we’d be on our way again. Sadie would settle down once more on her pillow and sleep the rest of the way.

We made many trips during the time our daughter lived away and my husband and I were getting a little tired of roast beef so, on one trip, we stopped for hamburgers. That didn’t work! When my husband came back to the car with burgers, Sadie sniffed the air, circled around a couple of times on her pillow and plopped down. She seemed to be saying, “No thank you!” I begged and pleaded with her, putting the warm burger right under her nose, but she just turned away and didn’t eat a bite... nor would she take a drink of water. That was the last time we tried that.

I’d like to say we lived happily ever after with Sadie, but that wouldn’t be true or realistic. Strange things started to happen when she was around fifteen. We’d hear a thump-thump-thump and when we'd investigate, we'd find that Sadie had fallen down the stairs. After seeing that she was okay, we’d laugh and accuse her of getting clumsy in her old age. Then one morning, she and I were sleeping in and I heard a thud and a small yelp. Checking to see what it was, I found that Sadie had fallen off the bed. She wasn’t hurt but a little dazed, I think.

After that happened a few more times, Sadie decided to sleep on the floor beside the bed. I eventually gave her a special bed of her own at the foot of ours.

A visit to the veterinarian one fall afternoon, told us what the problem was. She had cataracts that were so advanced that the doctor thought, considering her age, it would be dangerous to operate. Sadie was almost blind. But she adapted just as blind people do. We soon noticed that she took a certain route from the family room to her food and water dishes in the kitchen. It was always the same. She had it figured out perfectly. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was counting her steps.

I took Sadie almost everywhere I went. If I went to the grocery store, I’d leave the car running so the air conditioning would stay on for her. I’m not sure, with the car running, that she ever realized I was gone. Our family couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

She lived quite a while, but her overall health slowly deteriorated. Another trip to the Vet, at seventeen years old, revealed that she had liver disease. The doctor told me in his most serious voice. “You have a decision to make.” I said, “Oh no! How long does she have?” He said, “I wouldn’t wait too long. When the time comes, it will be painful.”

I cried all the way home. But, unfortunately, I did wait too long. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, and making the decision to put her down was out of the question! So, as a result of my selfishness, late one night, Sadie curled up on my lap – a place she loved to be – and started whining... intermittently at first, but it soon became steadily worse until she sounded like a screaming woman! It was a horrible thing to watch! I finally called the emergency animal hospital and was told to bring her right away. I did, but she went into convulsions on the way and died on my lap. I’ll never get over it. I called myself stupid and worse for months!

I don't plan to get another dog. Giving them up is too painful. I can’t go through it again! However, I did adopt a beautiful cat that was destined for euthanasia. But I promise, when Liza's time comes, I will do whatever is necessary to spare her the misery that my sweet little Sadie had to endure because of my selfishness.

It's the humane thing to do.

The Power of Words

~ Appeared in the Charleston Gazette ~ Sunday, September 2, 2012~

Words are powerful.

We must choose them carefully and think before speaking or writing them. Our words have the power to create peace or discord, inspiration or apathy, hope or despair. Therefore, we must be sure we select the ones that will create harmony and good will instead of dissension and malice.

Thoughtless comments that hurt someone else can make us feel terrible!

It was two years after my father died before my mother could say the words, “He died.” She kept saying, “He went away.” At first, I tried to be kind and ignore it, but then one day, I bluntly said, “Mother, Daddy didn’t go away. He died!”

I’ll never forget the hurt look on my mother’s sweet face. After many years, I still fight tears when that picture creeps into my mind. Sometimes, what we think is the right thing turns out to be “risky” at best. I think it hurt me more than it did her. However, she never said, “He went away,” again. Perhaps it was a good thing – forcing her to face reality. Or maybe it was cruel. I’ll never be quite sure.

That’s the bad thing about words. Once spoken, they can never be retrieved. How nice it would be if one could inhale them back to where they originated and erase them so they’d never be heard. But mistakes are a natural part of learning to live in this world—just as falling down is a natural part of learning to walk.

When I make a serious mistake, I sometimes find it hard to forgive myself for what I’ve said or done. Yet, I know I cannot make amends if I remain in a cycle of self-blame or criticism. So I must take responsibility for my actions and do my best to resolve the situation. After a heartfelt apology and a change in my behavior, I trust God to guide me. By His grace, I will be able to forgive myself - and perhaps, in time, the person I hurt will forgive me, too.

The Bible says, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit.” (Prov. 18:21)

Words contain what you believe. If you are full of fear, your words will reflect that. If you are full of faith, your words will be full of conviction. You can choose to speak life changing Bible verses over your life or speak what you hear the world speak: gloom, doom and despair.

Understanding the power of words is essential to living a victorious Christian life. The key is to be consistent and persistent. This isn't something you try; it's a way of life.

Words are so important, that we are going to have to give an account of what we say when we stand before the Lord Jesus Christ. (Matt.12:36-37)

You Never Know What's Going To Happen

~Published in the Charleston Gazette, Sunday, August 12, 2012~

While I was visiting a friend a few days before she passed away, she suddenly looked into my eyes intently and sadly said, “You just never know what’s going to happen.” Her simple statement had a great impact on me – not so much the words themselves, but the emotion with which she delivered them. I’ve thought of her and that statement many times in the six years since her passing.

We had been friends and neighbors for many years. Our children played together and attended the same schools. After they were grown, we talked often, sharing recipes and political views and news about our married children and grandchildren. Life was good. Then a routine visit to her doctor turned out badly and, after much testing, the doctors stunned her and her family with a devastating diagnosis.

Today, as I was thinking about my friend and considering life's fragility, I felt anxious and vulnerable. Then my grandson, sixteen, made a surprising statement. At first, I considered it just a typical teen-ager’s remark, and laughed, but then realized he was serious and that his quote had merit. He said: “The only thing I dislike about my life is that I can’t control what happens.”

And just like that! I was grounded again. “Of course none of us can control what happens in our lives,” I told him. “We aren’t supposed to. We must trust that God is in control, surrender our lives to Him and then, with our final destination assured, we can concentrate on enjoying the journey – one day at a time.”

Life is filled with unexpected surprises, some treasures, others challenges, but if we approach every situation with absolute faith in God, we find our doubts and worries are short-lived. When change occurs suddenly or dramatically, we must remind ourselves that we are never alone. God is with us and within us! While circumstances are temporary, God’s love is eternal and enduring. The power of God in us is constant and unchanging.

We may feel that our life is just perfect the way it is and we’re not ready to make a change, but if we keep an open mind, sometimes there is a blessing even in uncertainty.

In an ideal situation, we’d learn to manage the endings in our lives with appreciation for all that has been and to see the beginnings with an expectancy of good unfolding.

Change doesn’t’ have to involve struggle. If we trust God to provide all we need in each moment, we can accept change with open arms and move forward with ease and grace. We may even find ourselves saying, “Thank you, God, for the gift of new opportunities.”

As my friend might say, “You just never know what’s going to happen.”

Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit

~This appeared in the Charleston Gazette - Sunday, July 15, 2012~

In the greatest sermon ever preached, The Sermon on the Mount, which begins with The Beatitudes, God reveals His definition of happiness. We believe this because the word “blessed,” as used by Jesus, is interchangeable with the word “happy.”

But unfortunately, the word “blessed” has been altered by today’s society. If things are going well, the bills are paid, the health is reasonably good and there are no conflicts at home, one might feel that he is blessed. And indeed he is! But only a child of God knows what it means to be truly blessed. The nonbeliever has no idea what a real blessing is because the biblical definition of blessedness, or happiness, is much different than that of our culture.

Today’s beatitudes might sound something like this:

   Blessed are the beautiful, for they shall be admired.

   Blessed are the wealthy, for they shall have everything they want.

   Blessed are the popular, for they shall be well-liked.

   Blessed are the famous, for they shall be followed on Facebook.

But The Beatitudes, as we know them, are found in Matthew 5: 3-12.
 
   Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

   Blessed are they who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.

   Blessed are the meek,
for they shall possess the earth.

   Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they shall be satisfied.

   Blessed are the merciful,
for they shall obtain mercy.

   Blessed are the pure of heart,
for they shall see God.

   Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called sons of God.

   Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Profound in meaning, The Beatitudes guide, teach and show us the values that Christ cares about. These values, if followed, will not only bring a believer into a state of peace and happiness, but also right into the Kingdom of God after his or her journey on this earth is finished.

Jesus began His Beatitudes with: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Some have mistakenly interpreted this verse to say, “Blessed are the poor.” But that’s not what Jesus said. The word “poor” Jesus used is speaking of a person who is destitute and completely dependent upon others for help – but not financially. It has nothing to do with your bank account. Jesus was speaking of those who see themselves as they really are before God: lost, hopeless and helpless. Apart from Jesus Christ, everyone is poor in spirit, regardless of his education, wealth or accomplishments. Poor in spirit means that we come to God, conscious of our sins and our utter lack of righteousness. It means that we have absolutely no hope of salvation without Jesus Christ. It means that we realize we are full of sin and in desperate need of God's grace. And the poor in spirit realize that these can only be obtained by absolute faith in Jesus Christ.

If you want to be happy, you have to see yourself as you actually are. You have to repent. And you have to desire to change your life.

As Henry Ward Beecher said, “The strength and the happiness of a man is based on finding out which way God is going, and going that way, too.”

A Special Fourth of July

~Published in the Charleston Gazette - Sunday, July 1, 2012~

As far back as I can remember, the Fourth of July was a big day at our house. My parents came from a generation of proud Americans who weren’t ashamed to demonstrate that pride. To them, Independence Day was special and should be celebrated to the max—all day long! It was my father’s favorite holiday.

When I was young, he made sure everyone in the house was up early. There was chicken to fry, fresh vegetables to cook, watermelon to put on ice and ice cream to be consumed. This was the only day of the year that I was permitted to start the day with an ice cream cone, and have as many as I wanted throughout the day, as long as it lasted. He’d order up a three gallon container packed in dry ice and buy several dozen cones. It was his pleasure to dip ice cream into cones all day long for anyone who wanted it. All the neighborhood kids came by for the special treat.

After I was married and had children of my own, we celebrated, too, but not as lavishly. We had picnics, grilling hot dogs and hamburgers, lots of beverages and yes, ice cream. But our celebrations didn’t come close to being on the same level with those long-ago “fourths” of my childhood!

Once, when my five kids were young – ranging in age from about twelve to four years old – my parents decided to show them what an old-fashioned Fourth of July was like. Before noon, they appeared on our doorstep with food and supplies. First, several containers of ice cream were placed in my freezer. Then, my mother started taking prepared food out of a big box. For starters, there was her traditional platter of crusty, golden fried chicken, fresh green beans cooked with new potatoes, corn on the cob, and several ripe tomatoes. When my dad kept going back to the car, I investigated and found that he’d taken two large tubs to our patio and filled them with ice. In one, he placed as many canned drinks as it would hold. Every drink you might imagine was in that tub. In the other, he placed his favorite—the one item that, to him, no fourth would be complete without—a big, round, juicy watermelon.

Shortly after we had stuffed ourselves with the wonderful dinner, my dad started dipping ice cream. I always monitored the amount of sweets my children had, but my parents ordered me (in a nice way) to leave them alone – that this was their party and the kids could have as many soft drinks and ice cream cones as they wanted! “After all, it’s the Fourth of July,” my father declared. My kids were in Heaven!

And finally, the watermelon – the last treat of the day – was sliced! My dad got the biggest kick out of watching kids consume the juicy fruit. When juice dripped off their chins and ran down to their elbows, he’d laugh heartily. I can still see the delight on his face!

My father has been gone many years, but it will always be impossible to think about the Fourth of July without remembering him. He left his grandchildren with many wonderful memories. There is no way any of them, even the youngest, could ever forget his kindness, the warmth of his smile or that very special Fourth of July!

Nor could I.

Happy Father's Day

~Published in the Charleston Gazette on Father's Day - June 17, 2012~

Father's Day is an occasion to mark and celebrate the contribution your father has made to your life. Whether he is still with you or has already passed, whether you are young or old, I’m sure you have wonderful memories of your father.

I am happy to honor the memory of my father. He was one in a million! In my earliest memories, my father was always there – always smiling – a happy man.

I was an “only” child – and the apple of my father’s eye!

But a good father knows that he must model his parenting after God. He knows that the way he rears his children will have a direct effect on how the children view their Heavenly Father. If a father is overly strict, then his children will grow up viewing God as a harsh and judging God, but if he does not discipline at all then they will think God allows anything.

My father loved me but he disciplined me, too. And he started when I was very young. At only four years old, it seems I was misbehaving while we were visiting my grandparents. My father kept telling me to stop what I was doing but I ignored him repeatedly. Finally, he told me to sit on an ottoman nearby. I sat - bouncing back up shortly. My father pointed his finger and said firmly, “Sit down!” I did, but only a few seconds passed before I jumped up again. This time, he showed me he meant business by giving me a couple of rather hard thumps on the behind. Tearing up, I sat again, but in a few minutes, I bounced back up like a rubber ball. This time, my dad grabbed me by the arm, whacked my behind again and said, “I told you to sit down, young lady!” Sobbing and rubbing my derriere, I proclaimed, “Daddy, I can’t sit down!”

When laughter erupted throughout the room, the punishment was all over, but I never forgot the incident and was a little quicker to obey him after that painful episode.

As I grew up, my father was an integral part of my life.

He worked shift work making it easier for him to do the things for me that my mother’s eight to four job prevented her from doing. Therefore, I enjoyed some quality time with my father that others may not have had the good fortune to do with theirs.

When I came down with a cold or sore throat and had to stay in bed for a day or two, everything else stopped for my dad. He watched over me diligently, keeping a large glass of fruit juice over crushed ice beside my bed from early morning until I went to sleep at night. He sat beside my bed reading to me or just keeping me company. To this day, many decades later, when I’m ill, I revisit the memories – and yearn for my father’s pampering.

Besides obeying our Father in heaven, there is no responsibility more important for a father than providing the necessities for his family. But my father provided so much more than basic needs.

His continual good humor was contagious and the love he had for God and his family overflowed onto almost everyone he met.

He often quoted, Hebrews 13:2: Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

My father didn’t have to tell me how to live my life. I learned from watching him.

Happy Father’s Day!

The Sacred Power Within

 Published in the Charleston Gazette~ Sunday, June 3, 2012~

 Time passes. Memory dims.

Someone mentions a site you visited or a special occasion you were involved in long ago, but, try as you may, you can’t recall the event. Precious memories of the past, once fixed in your mind, begin to fade and you fear they’ll soon be lost forever. As you ride in a car passing places you frequented when you were younger, it’s almost as if you’ve never seen them before. You find yourself struggling to remember things you thought you’d never forget.

Small tasks that were once second nature are next to impossible to accomplish, like opening boxes and removing caps from bottles. Arthritis has weakened the hands, as well as other parts of the body.

Oh, how quickly the hands on the clock circle toward the future you thought was far away -- and how soon you become your mother!

But you do not have to live a life of fear, doubt and worry. There is a sacred power within all of us that connects us to the presence of God. As you turn to the Spirit of God within, you rediscover your inner strength and your inherent center of peace. By releasing all worry and pain, both physically and spiritually, you find that you can be calm and secure in every circumstance, even as you age.

Circumstances do not have the final word. By faith, you accept each change for what it is: a new beginning. This is a time for greater strengths to be realized and expressed, for greater blessings to flow to and from you, and for greater fulfillment to be accepted and shared by you.

Some elderly folks think they have outlived their usefulness. Nothing could be further from the truth!

When I think about the person who had the most influence on my life; my thoughts always turn to my grandmother. She worked hard all day, every day, doing chores around the house: laundry, gardening, cooking, and taking care of children, yet she always had time to sit with her children and grandchildren on a summer evening telling stories and singing songs as they swung on the old porch swing. I’ve seen her wring a chicken’s neck without flinching so her family could have golden fried chicken for Sunday dinner, and then become a much gentler soul as she kissed the face of her sleeping child at bedtime.

She believed that everyone had some good in them, if you look for it. When I feel mistreated by others, I often remember her sweet face and the way she believed in people. She fed all who walked into her house and loaned money to some, knowing she may never get it back, but trusting that the good in them would prevail. Sometimes it did.

Having a grandparent is a true blessing! And being a grandparent is a great joy! Grandparents share time and knowledge and instill a sense of stability into their families. “Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding?” (Job 12:12)

The love of a grandparent is akin to the unconditional love of God. It is a one-of-a-kind relationship!

Let us not be a society whose elderly are disposable. But let us recognize them as the worthwhile human beings they are, no matter what physical weaknesses befall them as they age.

“Youth is a gift of nature, but age is a work of art.” ~Garson Kanin