Tuesday, August 16, 2016

5 o’clock


You had my heart the moment I saw your furry little body curled up in Dad’s arms, asleep on the couch. Then when you got so sick and I’d hold you when I came home from work, it sealed the deal. I was your person.

Then you followed your nose one morning and were lost to us for five agonizing days. We finally found you through our lost posters and someone else’s found posters and through our tears of joy we hugged you as you “told” us all about your adventures and your relief at seeing us again.

You’ve been my constant companion through starting a new life in Austin and moving eleven times.  Every major transition I’ve made in the last thirteen years, you’ve been the steady friend staying close, keeping watch. You have sat next to me and leaned in when I cried over breakups, failures, and losses.


You ALWAYS wanted to go with me whenever I left the house, and somehow you knew I was getting ready to go, even before I started getting ready.  You would stare at me with those piercing brown eyes asking the question every time. If I answered “are you ready?” you joyfully grabbed your leash and pranced out to the truck. If the answer was “you need to stay here”, your head would drop in utter dejection, testing my resolve not to take you. On trips where you couldn’t come, you greeted my returns with the same joy if I’d been gone for ten minutes or a long work trip.

My days with you were predictable: every day at 5 o’clock you would start staring at me, letting me know it was dinner time. Ten pm rolled around and you were staring at me again, asking for your good-night bone (you couldn’t go to sleep without it).

The last eight months with you have been hard, as I’ve watched the curse and death and pain take over your furry body. These days have been a gift, too. I’ve been able to love you and care for you, and take comfort that I’ve loved you the best I possibly could.

You’ve been a gift to me from the Father above. In a few days and with many tears, I’ll hand you back to Him, forever thankful I got to be your mom.  I will hand you back, standing in the Promise that someday, somehow He will make all things new and there won’t be any more goodbyes or tears or pain or death. You will always be the Doodlebug, the Mr. Darcy, in my heart and that place will forever be yours, even as our days together come to the end.

Monday, August 1, 2016

#hardfightsoftheart

I read this blog through the course of the author's fight with cancer; I came away challenged, humbled, and encouraged.

The biggest take away was a phrase she used: "it takes a hard fight to keep a soft heart." I read that last summer, during a time that was particularly challenging for me, spiritually, relationally, and emotionally. I was having my own struggle with keeping a soft heart and her words were challenging and encouraging.

It takes hard work to keep my heart soft.

It's a battle. A daily battle.

And what's a soft heart? One that hopes and trusts and looks forward, even when it seems there is no runway or reason to.

Life can be really hard and we have a choice in how we respond to it: we can shake our fist and let cynicism and self pity move in; or we can fight the hard fight and choose to accept and grow from the pain and let it mature us, resulting in a soft heart. The destinations of these two choices are drastically different.

That summer I started looking for ways to remind me to fight this fight. It included making lists of things I'm grateful for; and being on the lookout for the beautiful in the simple and everyday things, like heart designs in lattes and raindrops on leaves.

Then I decided to get techie and create the hashtag "#hardfightsoftheart". More recently, I started an Instagram account called hard fight | soft heart. Here I am using some of my older photos and combining them with verses, quotes, and promises that remind me the keep up the hard fight for a soft heart.


What are the things you're battling against, things that are hard, things that call you toward cynicism and self pity?  What reminds you to keep up the hard fight for a soft heart? I beckon you into this battle and welcome you to share about your own fight.