As the Old Year Dies

Share

The end of each year offers us the chance to decide who we desire to be in the next. Sometimes, in order for that to happen we must let go of something- things, habits, people, etc. that prevent this transformation. With an eye to that, I consider in this video why it's hard sometimes for us to let go of people and why we really don't let go, and why they let go of us more easily than we can let go of them. All in all it boils down to this: if it matters, it happens. Nothing truly good ever gets away from us, so if it goes, when you can, it's best if you let it.

Actions Have Consequences

Share

Today, we explore the principle that you reap what you sow, that actions have consequences, and that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In this video, using a story from my own life, I talk about the attitudes that drive our actions, the different reactions to consequences and how to change the consequences of your actions (briefly) if you don't like the end of the road. Food for thought as we reach the end of this year and consider who we desire to be in the next.

Choose Ye This Day Whom Ye Will Serve

Share

I watched a video today on the church's website about "choosing to believe in God". Beneath the video, it invited us to consider when we found ourselves wondering, if we had a crisis of faith, and what course we took. Essentially, the video below, you can watch part of MY conversion story, which is not a single moment, but stretches over time and many years. My conversion began beneath the stairs in a small village in Idaho when I was eight years old, and as soon as I began to believe, it was tested, and so will your faith be. Here's part of my story about how I have never left the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and why.

You'll Be In My Heart, Always

Share

On this day when we talk about things to remember, loved ones lost, and the amazing opportunities afforded in our time and in this nation, I think of those I loved and lost, in particular one who was with me in the darkest times. I've been coping by writing a book. Until it comes out, enjoy these pictures that show our life together, or at least some highlights, like every other social media, with a dog who loved me and appreciated my love. You'll be in my heart always.

Living in the Moment

Share

People incessantly tell me that my problem is that I don’t enjoy where I am, and maybe you hear the same advice. Most of those people don’t recognize that they’re speaking as someone who already knows how. Most of those people are also people who are surrounded by a significant support network and/or people with a supportive significant other. Most of those people fill their schedules with myriad opportunities to have wonderful moments. Some of us cannot, due to responsibilities at home/work or due to financial restraints imposed willingly or not on our fiduciary outlay. Most of these people seem to talk about living in the moment only after they healed from the pain. The clichés are abundant, rife with logical fallacy, and often insensitive to the circumstances of those to whom they speak. However true or useful their perspective may be, since they come from a position of strength and talk about how they do it AFTER THE FACT, it’s harder for those still in media res to follow suit.

When I first entered high school, the only member of my faith my age was a young boy named Cody. About a year before I got into high school, Cody was hit by a bus and was paralyzed from the waist down. Moments with Cody were hard, because we were never just the two of us together. I was 14, and he required constant care, plus he couldn’t speak and I wasn’t always good at reading lips, so we were often frustrated by an inability to communicate. I tried. Honestly, I don’t think I tried very hard, but for a 14 year old boy, I think my feeble efforts were Herculean and heroic, and Cody’s parents certainly felt that way. When I visited Cody at his house, we talked about things he loved mostly, but they were things about which I was curious. Honestly, I got into stamp collecting because of him. We talked about stamps and stars and volleyball and dating, all of which were actually foreign to me at the time, but they were things about which he knew and was passionate. It’s funny now to think back and realize that all I know about all of those things actually started in Cody’s kitchen. It’s sad to think that a year after we started spending time together Cody died. After the funeral, Cody’s parents gave me something that Cody asked them to give me. He’d had a ring engraved with the initials NGU for Never Give Up, and according to them he wanted me to have it because I never gave up. All of his other friends fled when he could no longer come with them or do anything or even speak, and as arduous as it was to spend time with him, I never had. He had some moments to which he looked forward in his last year because he wasn’t alone.

In summer of 2013, I spent a week in Alaska in the off season. I had some spectacular experiences. On my first day, while waiting for my luggage to catch up with me, I went out to a glacier and just stood there while I watched it melt and stepped out of time. I have no idea how long I was there, because for me time ceased not only to matter but also to exist. I had no schedule, no responsibilities, no companions asking how long we were going to stay or any distractions. However, I pulled myself away from this nearly perfect moment knowing that eventually I’d have to return to “real life” and go back to Anchorage for my luggage, buy food, drive, pay for things, and eventually return to my life, job, and responsibilities in Vegas. I enjoyed being there, but I knew that I could not stay there forever. Eventually I would have to eat, sleep, eliminate, or at least move or, far enough in the future, I’d freeze to death. The worst part of it is that I couldn’t even share it with anyone. Sharing it would have disturbed it, and when some other people showed up and rippled their dissonance into nature’s harmony I reluctantly moved and went back to Anchorage to await my luggage. However, it’s a moment that I would recreate if I could but is so valuable precisely because it cannot be recreated.

As you know if you read what I previously wrote here, my beloved beagle died this May of testicular cancer. What you may not know is that the previous October he fell down the stairs one night and slowly recovered. What you may not know is that I started going home for dinner between work and my night labs to eat dinner with and walk him so that I would know that I spent time with him on days where I spent 12 hours working. Those were some very tender moments. I am not happy that he was injured, but I am happy that as a consequence of his injury we came together and became tight like unto a dish as he recovered from his injury. He was literally in pain. Now, I look back, and the moments were tender because they also reminded me of his impending mortality. I knew that any day he could and would die. I got far more time than I expected, but I went to bed and left for work every day with an extremely heavy heart. On my birthday, after our walk, I sat with him on the front porch outside the door while he gathered up the strength to go inside. We just sat looking at each other; I talked; he panted, and I was just there with him. It was a good moment, and one for which I am glad. I knew based on how hard it was for him to walk and how long it took to rest that he was fading quickly even though I didn’t know how many days remained. That gnawed at the back of my mind through the moment, and it made it difficult to truly enjoy it knowing that he could die at any other moment.

Neal A Maxwell once said that “Moments are the molecules that make up eternity”, and so it’s important that the moments in which you live are as positive and uplifting as possible. As much as we may work toward that end, many moments in our lives are also painful, difficult, and exhausting. Living in the moment is a great mantra that some people find more difficult to apply than to exclaim. Living in the moment is difficult to do alone. Living in the moment is difficult to do when the moments are fleeting. Living in the moment is difficult to do when the moment is painful. Not every moment is fun. Not everyone can fill their days with fun or uplifting moments. I know people who, when I ask how they are doing, respond “I’m currently between trials”, which I know is true even for people who seem optimistic. One of our security guards at work, who is one of the most pleasant people I ever met, spent about four months in a dour, dreary, depressed state after someone close to him died. He’s back to his cheery self now, but in those moments, I felt for him, prayed for him, and reminded him that I was there for him and glad to have him around. My life is filled with good moments. Not every moment is filled, and not every filled moment is good. I may not live in the moment, but I live for those moments and those moments make my life worth living.

Decision Day

Share

We make decisions every day. Each decision cements one possibility into reality and destroys other venues of opportunity. Around us, other people also make decisions, and sometimes those decisions affect the outcomes of our lives. Today is a day I decided to call Decision Day. It commemorates when, six years ago, a decision was made that changed my life. Unfortunately, it was a decision that was not up to me, but it precipitated other opportunities and led to other decisions with which I am pleased. I don't think anyone's life turns out exactly as they plan, hope, or expect, and it is possible for you to make all the right decisions and still lose. That is not failure; that is life. We are judged in the end not on what happens but on what we decide. Now, most of us like to be judged by our good intentions, but we are not affected by intentions. We are affected by actions, and so the decisions you make put actions in motion and ultimately will determine what you reap in the end.

Many decisions that affect our life are decisions made by others. You don't usually get to pick your parents, your race, your native land, your native tongue, and maybe at least from the getgo you don't get to choose your church, your clothing, or your recreational opportunities. Other people chose these for you, and other people will continue to make choices without your advice, consent, or knowledge throughout your life. Many of these people are politicians; some are more intimately known to you. Six years ago, a woman I cared for deeply decided against a life with me. The decision was never mine. The consequences were. At that crossroad, she decided not to join me. In that moment, despite assurances to the contrary, she killed one potential outcome for our story and replaced it with the one we have today- the one in which I am not even someone that she used to know. Of course, I'm disappointed, but her decisions are not up to me. What I do afterwards is.

When other people make decisions that affect us, all that lies in our power is to decide what to do about it. We can piss and moan like an impotent jerk, but ultimately most of us end up bending over and taking it up the tailpipe. You can get mad. You can get even. You can get up again. You can break down, or you can break through. Of course, setbacks are never fun, and it sucks when someone else closes a door you really wanted to walk through and that held a future that appealed to you. It's not that other potential futures don't appeal; you don't know what they offer, and you know you liked the one denied you. That night six years ago, my beloved beagle decided to dedicate himself to me, and eventually I decided to invest all of my love and concern into him. I don't regret this decision in any way. Of course, my dream life was not to hang out with a dog who eventually went deaf. I had other plans. However, I consider every bit of time, treasure, and attention spent on him to be completely worth it. He came with me on adventures. He comforted me when I had a bad day. He absolutely loved me absolutely. We had an exceptionally good life together over the past six years. He helped me find joy. Maybe it wasn't the joy I originally sought, but I know that we were happy, and I am so grateful that he was there and that we had our time together, because that was amazing.

Unexpected decisions affect our lives. I never planned to have a pet. Ever. I never planned to get close to a dog. Six years ago, he was more of a favorite accouterments to my life than an intimate playmate, confidant and friend. Now, however, I could not imagine my life without my beloved beagle boy of 16 years. I am not happy that this woman chose the way she did, but I'm glad that when she did that he was there and that I chose to love him. I decided today that I will probably get another dog. This is the first time in six years that I'm facing Decision Day without my dog. Sometimes I wonder if the woman was ever worthwhile. As for the dog, I realized that if I'm going to have love and companionship and good memories, it's much more likely with a dog than with another person. My beagle was totally devoted to me. I kept him downstairs because this woman was allergic to dogs, but after she left, he peered around the corner at the top of the stairs one night in 2015 (he was not allowed upstairs), and I invited him over. I have always been glad I made the decision to let him into my life. This decision day, I thank God for providing me with an alternative decision to make and for time and opportunity to choose my dog and then enjoy him for as many years as I did. Even though he died 14 weeks ago today, I still thank God every day for the decisions that brought that dog into my life and eventually brought him into my heart.

Seemingly unimportant decisions (SUDs) abound. We do many small things every minute that we believe to be small. We say pithy things. We don't go places we ought. We go places we know are bad. We engage in bad habits. We decide to befriend strangers. None of these things are as small as we think they are. Some of them transform our lives. At the end of the day, many SUDs become the basis for the future that we build. Each decision entrenches one future possibility and KILLS ALL OTHERS. We excuse many bad decisions as unimportant. "It's my body I'll do what I like. I'm not hurting anyone else". We downplay some good decisions as unimportant. The random letter we sent, the random neighbor we help, and the time spent hiking half a mile with a neice last weekend who thinks you're an awesome uncle. You honestly have no idea how things will play out. All you can do is be honest with yourself about what outcome you truly value and make decisions based on those values. I know that on Decision Day 2013, that woman decided that she valued something more than she valued me. I know that eventually I decided I valued my beagle more than any other person I knew. I know that some small things, some SUDs, cost me quite a bit and that others brought me more joy than I could ever imagine. Today is your Decision Day. What do you truly desire? What do you need to decide to make those things possible in your life? What other venues are there to have that? I'll probably get a dog, not because I prefer dogs to people, but because I know that a dog can bring me joy, and I know that putting my trust in a particular woman left me on a detour but that deciding to get a dog will get me there. He was the best decision I ever made as an adult.

Faith Promoting Stories

Share

This week, I’ve read two ostensibly faith promoting stories and thought afterwards, “Well, I’m happy for you, but your results don’t apply to my situation”. The authors mean well, and they desire to inspire us by writing about how their faith was rewarded with the blessings for which they strove, hoped, prayed, and waited. Both of them however already arrived in the Promised Land meaning that these stories, as inspirational as they may be, are no longer about faith. You see, if you have faith you hope for things which are not yet seen, which are true. In order to inspire faith, they must talk about things that remain as yet unrealized. Both of these stories feature people who have seen their faith rewarded. In these stories, the stories are told from a position of strength where they ALREADY reaped the rewards of their faith. That’s from a position of KNOWLEDGE. If you know a thing, if you are experiencing it, if you see it, it’s no longer faith, and your inspirational story, as interesting and helpful as it may be, does not actually inspire faith. I don’t know what it inspires, but it cannot inspire faith. You are trying to project your knowledge on me and use knowledge to create faith. That’s not how it works.

Both of them are interesting stories, and I recommend reading these type of stories for the positive messages you can take from them. However, as any rational adult will tell you “past performance does not guarantee future results” and “results may vary”. The scriptures are replete with examples of people who did not EVER get what they wanted, because their decisions put them into places where those outcomes were impossible or because the way they pursued blessings could not deliver. I’m glad that both of these stories ended with happy and healthy relationships, because I know that will continue to help them. However, some of God’s favorite children spent time in longer and deeper troughs than anyone else. Jonah in the whale, Daniel watched believers burned alive in the ovens, Elijah in the wilderness, Abinadi burned to death, Jeremiah imprisoned, Peter crucified, ad infinitum. They did not end up living happily ever after, and they didn’t get the outcomes for which they might have hoped.

In my last congregation, one of the leaders named Todd told me that I was the most faith affirming thing he saw each week. I had no wife, no children, no responsibility, and no friends per se in the congregation, and yet I came almost every week, sang hymns, participated in class, paid my donations, and interfaced with the members. He knew that I had no other incentive to come besides that I believe. He knew that I came because I had FAITH. Many people make different decisions. They remain “faithful” if and only if the blessings continue unabated, and as soon as they dry up, those same people conclude that their faith was in vain. Todd knew I had faith because I kept going even though my faith had not yet delivered the rewards often concomitant with living a faithful life. Moreover, it’s important to remember that just because your faith isn’t rewarded doesn’t mean your faith is poorly placed.

This is precisely the argument made by the devil when he received permission from God to tempt Job. Satan concluded erroneously but as we know what’s true all too well that Job was only faithful because of the many blessings he received and that Job would abandon God if God rescinded His favor and protection. As we know, Job lost everything (except for a few friends who were seriously the worst friends ever in my opinion) but despite the privations, tribulations, and criticism, Job stayed true to God and eventually ended up having his blessings restored and beyond.

All too often, however, we quit when we reach what CS Lewis wrote about in The Screwtape Letters as “a reasonable period of suffering”. We conclude that WE have suffered, endured, and persisted faithfully long enough and that, if God does not bless us with a particular gift by a particular deadline, our faith was in vain or placed in a false god. We project our time line and perspective on a diety, which evinces that we don’t actually believe in something greater than ourselves and that our ‘god’ is located just above our head in the vapid air surrounding us.

The real problem with most of these kinds of stories is the emphasis on the blessing and not on the Mediator. Although both of these stories I read justly ascribe credit to God for helping them through a difficult circumstance, the focus tends to be more in most cases on the destination. When we talk about faith, we talk about faith in the wrong context. We have faith in people, in the rising of the sun, in the progress of the seasons, etc. The principle of faith that we ought to be emphasizing is lost on us because we forget in what we ought to have Faith.

remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

Our faith is in a Messiah, a Redeemer, a Savior, in Jesus Christ. The faith we ought be promoting is Faith in Jesus Christ, which sustains us no matter the storm, no matter the privation, and no matter how long we must wait. If you trust in Christ, even if you don’t get blessed, you will not fall.

I attend church each week because I have faith in Christ. I don’t like some of the congregants, and I don’t trust others. Most of them I just don’t know very well. I’m not there for them. I’m not there hoping they’ll hire me, or befriend me or help me repair the roof or give one of their daughters to me to wife. I’m not there to please them, to impress them, or because I owe them allegiance. I am there because I want to show Jesus that I love Him enough to keep His commandments and that I believe that in the end He will be the one who frees me from pain, from sadness, from singleness, and from the shadows of anonymity and insignificance. The real point of the stories that affirm faith is that these people continued to believe in Christ, in God’s promises and in the method God told us He would keep His promises, and not in the outcome of the promises themselves. Our lives are a continual invitation to prepare for, wait on, and participate in the marriage of the Bridegroom of allegorical reference and show whether we truly intend to follow Christ and allow Him to rescue us from death, pain, and sin. They are not talking about their continued faith in Christ. They stop the story usually after the part where they obtained the reason why they decided to put their faith in Christ in the first place.

The kind of faith that sustained the prophets aforementioned was a faith in God’s promises and the life and sacrifice of God’s Son. Jonah was thrown from the whale when he acknowledged God’s desire to forgive. Abinadi testified of Jesus’ birth. Peter refused to deny Christ again and asked to be crucified upside down because he was not worthy. Elijah called down fire from heaven to show the Jews who their true God truly was and that He had power to save them. The prophets wrote nothing save it was to remind people of the reality of and their reliance on a Savior. They preached of Christ, they prophesied of Christ, they rejoiced in Christ, and they wrote according to their prophecy so that all the children of men might know to what source they could look to be saved from the struggles, pains, disappointments, setbacks, and heartbreaks of mortal life. They wanted people to turn to Jesus, to the Messiah, and to rely on Him to be saved, and anyone who shares a faith promoting story does well to remember this.

I have not arrived where I hoped to be. I am not wealthy, renowned, as skinny as I like, or even in communication with anyone I hope might be Mrs. Right. I’m still here though. I still go to church, write on my blog, read my scriptures, kneel in the living room each morning to pray and TRUST GOD. I don’t know if or when He will intervene to change the things I hope to improve, but I know that He will intervene in ways that improve my life. One day, maybe my life will change for the better in one of the ways I hope. One day maybe I’ll heal and have a family and know love beyond that of a beagle.

RED Shirt Fridays

Share

Last term, my female student worker observed that I wear red every Friday. It's very simple, but it's not my idea. My father worked with a bunch of prior military folks who all banded together each Friday to wear red shirts. RED stands for Remember Everyone Deployed. It's a simple thing they do to remind them of people elsewhere doing some heavy lifting in a way that's not too much in your face but that brings some espirit de corps not only to his work group but also to the military assets the organization supported. In some ways, it's similar to the poppy in the UK, but the poppy is worn less frequently, and it's an additional accoutrement attached to the rest of your garb and sold on top of regular shopping for special programs in favor of the fighting man. The red shirt is simple, and that's why it appeals to me.

At the simplest level, the red shirt serves as a way of remembering people. In particular, this observance remembers particular people- people who are elsewhere in dangerous places doing things to make our lives better. Specifically, this observance keeps its eye on military members, but even if you don't know anyone in the military, you do know people who put their lives on the line both literally or figuratively speaking to improve yours. Red, the color of blood, signifies at least in one way sacrifice. We are taught that those who lose their lives in the service of others have the highest degree of love, and when you wear red to remember them, you show you value their sacrifice. Other organizations adopt similar color schemes like Red Nose Day or Red ribbons, or what have you. It's a way to remember those who lose their lives so that we can find a better one for ourselves.

Wearing a red shirt gives you an opportunity to make an outward sign that is not obvious. A lot of people like to proudly proclaim what organization/movement they support. We frequently festoon ourselves with pins or brands or other signets so that people know what we advocate. Sometimes those outward conveyances attract people to us; other times, people assume based on something that they should shy away. I know people have decided based on what I share publicly to part with me permanently. However, wearing a shirt of a particular color without any other provisos besides the color and extent of color doesn't alarm anyone who doesn't know. Being vague as to pattern differentiates you from having gang colors. People who know in secret will recognize you openly, and people who don't know just know you wore a red shirt.

One of the best things about red shirt Friday is the way it provides for a chance to regularly show solidarity as and for a group. We all know about Casual Fridays or Pajama Day in school and similar things, and some people like to wear uniforms or camouflage which might be to show solidarity for military personnel, but we know that sometimes people do that in order to pretend and portend to honors they have not earned. Each Friday, members of my father's workplace proudly don a red shirt and show solidarity not only for the unit but for units of servicemen everywhere. Although those people may not see it, many of them know that's what's happening at home, and the show of support even unseen helps bolster morale.

Many people have fuzzy memories and short lived relationships with people. I see people with note cards, strings around their fingers, tatoos, patches, pins, ad infinitum, all of which they use to help them remember what is urgent and important. Now, you may not agree with our fighting men, but they are urgent and important to someone. They have family, battle buddies, units, neighbors, friends, and often lovers who think of them often and highly. The red shirt is an invitation to remember that there are people out there doing heavy lifting for you. It is said that only 3% of Americans serve in the military voluntarily. For them, it's a small thing, but if you are alone, cold, hungry, and under fire, it's probably nice to know that someone somewhere's thinking about you, remembering you, and showing solidarity with you even if they're not physically there. It's nice to be remembered.

Mourning People

Share

Normally, I am a morning person. By 9AM most days, I achieve more than many people do all day long. Each morning, I thank God for a good night's rest, for protection from intruders, and for my beagle. Last Christmas, I awoke and heard him snoring and thanked God for my first Christmas gift- that my beautiful beagle buddy was still there with and for me. It was a great morning. On my birthday this year, I awoke and found him curled up, for one of the last times, in a pile of my jeans beside the dresser waiting for me to wake. That was also a great morning. Mornings, however, feel much sadder than they used to be, and Friday mornings are worst. Most people look forward to Fridays, but each Friday morning marks another week since I last saw my beautiful brave beloved beagle buddy, and when I wake, I think about that last morning together. I also find that I cry the most on Friday. Yeah, I know men aren't supposed to cry. So sue me. I actually loved this dog. And I'm not the only person I know mourning. I walked in the building for work this morning and thought of all the other people around here who are mourning and who, consequently, called in sick to work this morning and others I know who are mourning those they lost. Just about everyone you really get to know changes your life, and every life around you changes according to opportunities, trials, circumstances, events, and other living things. When they change you for the better, and then they leave, you often mourn. Often, they just move away or cut you off, but when they also die, the mourning takes a different form. Everyone mourns, and everyone mourns their own things in their own way. How and why we mourn, when we are truly weak enough to be our true selves, tells us alot about ourselves and about those we watch mourn.

Mourning for people you love is part of life. Everyone and everything you know and like eventually leaves your life or is left behind when you die. Materials and bodies decay, and consequently eventually what was must give way for something else. Some people don't make or take much time for mourning, and other people seem to never get over a loss. Since you must lose someone or something at some time or another, most people acknowledge that there is a time for mourning, they just may not like spending time with you while you mourn. I think we know very little about how to help people mourn, and the only thing I can really offer is this: "you didn't always know what to say, buy you knew to listen, and that was helpful". Usually the degree to which we mourn is proportional to how much we value what we lose, and it helps to be able to talk about it aloud even if nobody has any useful ideas. In discussing them, we show that we still value them, and to what degree, and it may be that this helps us realize that they never really leave us per se. I will always carry part of the dog with me. I learned I was a dog person mostly because I'm allergic to cats and that I liked having a pet who considered me a god (dogs) more than I liked a pet who considered me a slave (cats). Maybe the worst thing was that I had a pet late in life. I mean I never intended to have one in the first place and ended up with beagles because of my ex wife, but if I'd lost a pet when I was younger, when my parents were there to shield me from the loss, when I could learn to deal with it, this one might have hurt a little less. At the very least, I learned that, if I get another dog, I'll lose him eventually too, and it changes what I plan to do with another dog if applicable so that parting is less sorrow.

Many people around you mourn. In the midst of my sorrow, I noticed that a wave of death and loss crashed around me. A department secretary died when her cancer returned, another secretary's husband died, and a friend of mine lost one of his inlaws. Just in the last few weeks, several people have died at church from cancer. Then there are people with wayward kids, with sick family, with financial struggles, with substance abuse problems, etc. It's interesting when people can see on my face that I'm sad. I can tell on their faces too, and I think they're surprised and relieved when I ask and they have an outlet. If we were supposed to face life alone, we'd all be on our own planet, but one of the major purposes for us here is to be with and for each other. My dog helped me when I was sad, and now others make an effort who also know loss, albeit of different kinds, and heartache, albeit for different reasons, and we feel less alone in our loneliness.

How we mourn shows us much about ourselves. Some people mourn a lost chance to spend time with someone and show they that they loved them. Other people mourn the loss because their life just changed forever in a way where they feel as if they died too, at least in part. Others don't seem to mourn at all. I don't pretend to know with certitude why, only that it's true that some people feel callous. Just because we don't see people mourn doesn't mean that they do not. We are taught to be strong and that mourning equates with weakness, and some people just sit silently and miss those they lost. Then there is a somewhat unconventional way to mourn. For years, I have told my sister that I don't want a funeral; I want a party with only desserts and a piñata of me (so that anyone who likes can take one last swing at me) filled with candy so that my death will send everyone home with sweet things. I think that's exactly the kind of eulogy my beagle would have liked. Whenever I was sad or bored or lonely, my beagle was there, and I know that he would not want me to be sad. If he were here, he would come and try to make me smile or laugh, because he was joy wrapped up in a beagle. Sometimes, when I suddenly feel calm, I wonder if he is there, especially in the mornings when I used to thank God each day that the beagle was still with me and I inexplicably become calm. He would want me to be happy. I sat Friday night and watched the videos I shot during our last week together; I'm glad I shot them. They remind me of good and tender moments together with a beagle I loved, and I am so very grateful that I captured some good memories of the greatest blessing God ever gave me in mortality.

This morning, like every Friday morning since 3 May 2019, I was in mourning. When I returned to my bedroom following my run, I caught a whiff of his scent. As I left for work, I paused briefly to look back at the carpet in the living room and glance up along the staircase, because that's where he would be when I left each morning, either resting or searching for the treats I threw around the house to distract him from following me out the door starting in summer 2017. It's so very odd to not see him in one of those places. Sometimes, he would look at me longingly, as if wondering why I had to leave, and it was very hard, especially in the last few months, to tear myself away and leave him for work knowing that I might not see him when I returned. That Friday night, I returned to find him dead, and it was the most painful day of my life. I know he's not a person, but I am, and I'm mourning him because he was part of me, my life, my day, my routine, and I will carry him with me wherever I go for the rest of my life, in my heart, and in the ways in which he changed me because he lived. I am still a morning person, and I look forward to the morning of the first resurrection, hoping for the restoration of ALL things, especially the things and people we knew and loved and mourned. Hopefully that will include my beagle whom I love, because that will be a great morning.

Honoring The Memory

Share

Most people handle a loss by moving on and replacing what they lost with something similar.  When their relationships fall apart, they find someone else to date, and when their pets die they go adopt a new one.  People seem insensitive. My beloved brave best beagle boy was incredibly sensitive to me. He didn't care what car I drove, only that I took him with me. He didn't care how I looked, only how I looked at him. He didn't care how much money I earned, only that I shared what I had with him. He didn't care where we were as long as we were together. He is quite possibly the greatest blessing God ever gave me. I still thank God each day for my Saturn and my beagle as I have for several years now each morning. I honor his memory. I felt God's love through how that dog treated me, and so I honor the memory of my friend by taking time to think about him, to focus on his contribution to my life, and of how he took care of me. It is said that we make time for, take pictures of and write about those things and people that matter to us. Well, I guess it's fitting that, in this current drought of scribblings, I write about and share pictures of a dog I loved and who mattered to me a great deal. Nobody knew more about my flaws, and nobody cared less, and that's why this feels like such a loss to me.

I sense a desire in most people for me to move on already. Most people blithely express sympathy for my loss and then ask when I'm going to get a new dog. I think it's a little early to replace him since I really loved him. Maybe that's because they didn't care about what they lost as much as I care about what I lost. You can't replace him. There will never be another dog like that. Not that I might not get another awesome buddy, but he was unique. I could not have found a better dog if I picked him out of a catalogue. He contributed so much to my life, to each day, to each week, to each season, to the holidays, in good times and in bad, on sunny days and in rain storms. He was there. I let him into my life, and in doing so I feel like I allowed the Savior into my life to provide what I needed and to use my beagle to touch my heart and feel of His love.

Very few people seem interested in or concerned with me. Well, I'm ok, thanks for asking, but I'm not fine at all. A huge part of my life simply ceased to exist. My female student worker asked me if I got some sun one week because I was red from crying, because I miss him. He absolutely loved me absolutely. He fought to stay because HE cared about me. My parents like to, to their credit, reminisce about positive happy memories. They know that helps. My mom understands that this dog was as close to family as you can get without being blood. Rarely does anyone ask if I'm ok. I'm just supposed to suck it up and soldier on without my best friend in the whole world. How would you feel if I told you to suck it up when you lost someone you loved? yes, I know he was just a dog, but he was MY dog, and he was there for 16 years, faithful to the end, and I feel the loss every day for some period of time or another. According to my fitbit I sleep all night, but I have only really rested once in the month since he died. I'm exhausted. He fought to stay because he was worried about me, because he knew that when he died I would be alone, literally. This dog took care of me, and I appreciate his concern for my welfare up to the end.

Some wonder why I don't move or toss out everything. I have a new hiking buddy who told me blithely that I ought to sell my house and move. Easy for him to say; he won't be packing up, finding a new place, or paying the mortgage. In fact, he's essentially a nomad himself, having not lived anywhere for more than a year or two since he finished college. I bought the house in 2010 in part for the dog. It had a dog door and a yard that was "enough" for him to stretch his legs, sniff around and explore when I got back to the house in the evening. The downstairs was all tile to make it easier to clean up after him. Yes, I have places in my house that remind me of him, and I have not disturbed some of them for now, because I feel like removing them shows I don't care about him. In fact, I printed a bunch of pictures, and I'll hang them this week or put the rest in an album so that when I feel like it I can look back at pictures of him that remind me of the good times and better times without having to turn on the computer and without seeing pictures that are not happy. This was our place. He's always welcome there as long as I'm there, and I want it that way. I like thinking about him, because thinking about him reminds me of the virtues of my beagle, of the love I felt from him in the days of trouble.

Growing up, they taught me at church that one of the most important things we could do was remember. Accordingly, I have a new day to commemorate- his birthday. I will always be grateful that my beagle was born, that my ex wife bought him for me, that my parents gave him a place when I got custody until I had a place for us, that we lived 8.5 years in this house together, and for the last two years, which might be the best two years of my life. I have no desire to move on, forget him, to move away, or to purge my life of signs that he lived. My dog will always go with me, in my memory, and in the ways in which I was changed by his presence in my life. For two years at least, I rose each day to happy noises of a dog who loved me stirring, and then I returned from work to find him greet me on the staircase, and I apologized to nobody.  I still do the things we did together, because I was going to do them anyway, and because doing them with him made them better.  I learned with certitude through him that life truly is greater when you share it with someone that you love.  Thank you, good buddy, for everything.  I'll see you soon.