We Are Called…

I had a nice visit with mom on Saturday night. I used the tablet again to carry on conversation with her due to her diminished hearing. She was happy for the company as usual. I brought her up to date after my jury duty, telling her about the criminal trial, but leaving out some of the gory details. Then I remembered something that happened in church last weekend when singing the closing song, and I related that story to her as well.

The closing song was We Are Called by David Haas. I almost didn't make it through the lyrics and started tearing up as I sang. I thought about the twin six-year-old girls who were the victims in the jury trial. The lyrics replayed in my mind…

Come, live in the light!
Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord
We are called to be light for the Kingdom,
to live in the freedom of the city of God!

We are called to act with justice.

We are called to love tenderly. 

We are called to serve one another,

To walk humbly with God.

Come! Open your heart!

Show your mercy to all those in fear!

We are called to be hope for the hopeless,

so all hatred and blindness will be no more!

We are called to act with justice. 

We are called to love tenderly. 

We are called to serve one another,

To walk humbly with God.

To me, that song was confirmation that God indeed tapped each of us jury members on the shoulder to be on that trial and bring justice for those twin girls and their family. I pray we brought them hope and they live in fear no more. Now if the rest of the world could love tenderly, serve one another, and walk humbly with God, we could stop the hatred and it WOULD be no more. If only...

[Here is a rendition of We Are Called sung by the Notre Dame Folk Choir you might enjoy.]

Feeling Grateful…

Bosco was so cute this morning. I hated to leave him to go to work. He pranced and twirled as I put his collar on to go outside. He doesn't do a lot of that at his age, so to see him get “puppy feet” is a real treat. 

When I came home from work, I couldn’t wait to see the furkids again. Bosco trotted down the steps to greet me, exhibiting his eagerness with tail wagging and head-butting. 

And Buffy—eager to see Bosco—jumped on the chair above Bosco's back. She stuck her tiny calico paws between the chair slats. Then the canine tail chase began. Bosco has so much fur, he doesn't even notice when Buffy swats at his tail. 

“Bosco, buddy, did you miss me?”

Slurp. 

“Want to go outside?”

Slurp. 

“Kisses?”

Ever so gently, he gave me another slurp. 

He waited patiently to go out even as I discovered I was stuck in my coat from zipper failure. Once back inside, he remained patient as I realized I STILL was stuck in my coat. At last, I secured my freedom. 

“Okay, are you hungry?” 

He answered with more prancing. 

I prepared his first food bowl, which was inspected and quickly devoured. Then I got that in-your-face stare. 

“Are you still hungry?” I asked. 

Bosco moved in a little closer to me to affirm his answer with a giant “BURP” reply. That gesture was followed by another gentle face slurp. 

“Thanks, buddy. I’m SO glad you burped BEFORE you got in my face and kissed me.”

The second bowl of food disappeared as quickly as the first. Bosco’s belly was full. Content that mom was home, Bosco knew life was good.

Buffy, ever patient, was also fed. She conveyed her gratitude by snuggling and kneading. It was finally time for all of us to relax. And yes, this was a very good day.

 (Sigh.)

  

Let Us Take a Lesson

I find it amazing that while out walking my dog, Bosco, I realize he has gained celebrity status. Not as big as Lassie, mind you, but he still has that "aha" discovery factor when someone gets sight of him. I know or am acquainted with many of my neighbors, yet  I have more people excitedly waving at me who, in reality, I have no idea who they are. Part of this confusion might be the sun in my eyes or tinted car windows, but many times I am just clueless. Their excitement is not in seeing me, but seeing my dog with me. "Look, there's Bosco!" I glance up and just politely wave back. 

I try to practice my return wave to get it down pat. You know, that gentle cupped wave that royalty and pageant queens have mastered. I'm at a slight disadvantage as I am sure the Queen doesn't wave at her fans while gripping a poop bag. Alas, grace and coordination have never been some of my strong suits. 

I do my best to disguise my surprise to Bosco's fan club. Along with the gracious wave, I simultaneously deliver the skilled expression of, "Ah yes indeedy, I recognize you!" Hopefully as people pass by in their vehicles, they are not able to read my lips as I ask Bosco, "Do you know who that was?" 

Cheers may be the place where everybody knows your name, but life B.D. (before my first dog, Mollie the Collie), nobody knew my name. With life A.D. (after dog), I was donned with the neighborhood nickname "Mollie's Mom." People still didn't know my name, and that was okay. But having a dog and walking the neighborhood was like having my own personal ambassador. Introductions were forthcoming. Genuine interest was shown in my dog's life, then in my life, and these greetings led to many new friendships. If I wasn't out walking my dog, the questions came—why not, is Mollie (and now Bosco) alright, have you been sick, is the dog feeling okay, how about that awful weather we've been having, were you on vacation, and so forth.

It occurred to me that the world needs more dog-like ambassadors who are able to neutralize situations. Dogs are blind to race, color, creed, ethnicity, socioeconomic status and politics. They give confidence to children, strength to the infirm, comfort the elderly, pure joy to the anxious. They know kindness, gentleness, assurance and love. They, like many other good-hearted souls, are eager to please. For a pat on the head, a bowl of kibble, a warm blanket, and a loving home, they are your forever friend. Mess with their loved ones, and they spring into action to protect their flock, their family. They have your back, no questions asked.

In this world where people are so eager to condemn, jump to conclusions and unwilling to communicate, let us take a lesson from dogs. Let us be ambassadors of goodwill in our neighborhoods, our jobs, our travels and in our schools. Let us learn to live simply, serve compassionately and love equally. And then, perhaps, we will sleep peacefully and behave confidently to know we have each other's backs.