The sun was out and the church parking lot was rapidly emptying as people headed off to enjoy the day. A small group of us stood in a circle chatting about who knows what, having sent all of our children off to the cars to wait for us to leave.
I remember standing there thinking something was off and I don’t even know why, but I am glad I paused and did a visual check of our suburban. At first, it seemed ok, but as I looked closer I could see my oldest in the front passengers seat with her fingers in her ears saying something. I could not hear obviously, as I was way to far away for that, but my eyes followed from her toward the back where the other two were.
I could not see my middle child and my youngest was face and hand planted to the back window of the suburban, yelling something at us. I dropped whatever was in my arms, hit that gravel at a full sprint, and probably covered the breadth of the parking lot in what seemed like only an instant.
When I yanked the back door open, there sat our middle child on the floor of the suburban, fully the color of a blueberry, and not breathing. In one swift motion, I literally grabbed her by the front of her dress, jerked her full force out the door and smacked her back as hard as I could! Just as I did it, a blue hard candy shot out of her mouth and ricocheted across the parking lot to disappear into the grass.
As I held my child and consoled her, my oldest child was still in the front seat singing to herself with her fingers in her ears and my youngest was TELLING ME OFF!! Oh yes! She gave me an adult version of a lecture for a good five minutes. I was no longer allowed to give them hard candy unattended, and apparently, it was considered very rude that they had to wait in the car. Point taken little lady!
Well, if God said it, then I knew it to be true…I had His word that I knew the way home, so I set my heart for the journey ahead, and stepped out in faith…I best get right to it! Thankfully, before God had even brought me to the hill overlooking the first City of Souls, all of my old and damaged garments had been replaced. I was not wearing just anything, though, because these garments had been handcrafted by my Father, with materials that He pulled from His very own armor! I did not wear just any armor; it was the armor of God!
Around my waist was a belt of the strongest fiber that had been lovingly pulled from the hem of His robes. In my mind I believed it to be a belt of Truth, buckled firmly so as to never again fall away! Covering my chest from front to back was a piece of the strongest metal pulled from His own chest piece and loving shaped for me with such care! Once placed, I was aware of His promise that it would not ever fall away! My feet had been covered with the most solid set of shoes, carefully lined with the softest fur I had ever felt.
The eternal peace that came from the tip of those shoes, flowed all the way to the top of my head, which by the way was covered by a helmet whose navigation had been forever set for my eyes to follow home. I had also been given a shield and sword, the shield always to protect from the lies of the enemy, and the sword had His words of truth written within its glint. I must only seek Him and the armor made by my Father would bring me safely home…
Now, prepared for the journey that lay ahead, I set out and began my descent slowly and peacefully down into the city below. I traveled rather easily, even carrying the armor I had been equipped with, as it was as light as a feather drifting lazily on the breeze. My Father promised me that my burden would be light from here on out if I only let Him bear it with me. I also discovered, the first morning of my journey, that my armor did not look at all like I thought it would.
Instead of looking like a warrior from the battlefield, as I had anticipated, I looked like no one…like everyone…old and yet young…invisible unless you looked closely. I had been clothed in what looked like a very non-de script grey robe that covered me from the top of my head all the way to the ground. The tips of my shoes hardly peeked out from underneath, so that only the tips were visible. All that was in my right hand was a well-worn staff, and instead of my shield on my left arm, one only saw an old faded leather satchel. I truly felt relief in this discovery, as I planned to wander this path as directed by my Father, only wanting attention toward myself as He desired. I could move fast and light if needed. I would rise before dawn each morning so that I could place my eyes on the next lantern ahead before daylight washed it out for the day. I made sure not to rest each night until I saw the lanterns brighten, just to ensure I was still on His path.
To any passersby, I looked like no more than a quiet traveler making my way along. I did not carry anything aside from my satchel, which contained every note and tender mercy my Father had packed for me. When I was hungry or tired, I traded stories for meals and a place to rest my head for the night. Apparently, an additional gift that my Father left with me, to provide my needs along the journey, was an innate ability to weave stories and tales of adventures, welcomed by the innkeepers and guests.
I discovered a new purpose that had been placed within my heart for the journey home, so perhaps if you keep an eye out for them, my stories might find you…just look for a traveling storyteller and perhaps you might see me for I am sure that I am not the only son or daughter of the Almighty King…remember, He will leave the lanterns lit for you…I promise!
“Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”
We are going to take a little journey down memory lane. Remember, I said that this journey was not all bad. Well, I am a woman holding herself to her word. I wish to share something lovely to think on…a gift from God, perhaps, that He has kept on repeating all my life!
I can’t tell you how many times I hear someone call out the name of an elementary teacher they once had. As I was walking along my trail the other day, I began to ponder how some people had memories that sharp, while I cannot even remember the names of most of the schools I attended.
I can, however, tell you the name of every dog I have ever had in my life, as well as most of the names of all the other pets I had. I am guessing that our memories are most solidly embedded wherever the deepest part of our character development happens. I am sure that for many, it made all of the difference in the world to have a teacher or mentor believe in and support you. I however, was already so closed and distrustful of adults that no one even had a chance with me, I suppose.
I truly believe that if I had not had a dog in my life, God would have been hard pressed to shape me into someone capable of love. I did not say He couldn’t, just that it would have been harder, and I am glad He always seeks the gentlest ways first. I am not being flippant, just in case you were wondering, as dogs for me, were a lifeline!
I do not have any memories of feeling love from either of my parents, not to say that they did not love me. A lot of right and a lot of wrong have been done in the name of love, since time began. What I do remember of any happiness or affection came from a dog. Unadulterated love and devotion with each and every little furry soul that shared my journey. I am now going to test myself to see how much I remember…
Buttons – My moms’ black poodle, but she babysat us kids like a bossy auntie.
Rags – My old English sheepdog – lost too soon.
Zach – My foster brothers black lab. Funny dog…kept his own private stash of rocks and sticks under his bed.
Ferran – My Fawn Doberman – I had to learn all of her commands in German, as that was how she had been trained.
Cricket – My little Dachshund. She was there for the birth of my children, as well as to destroy all of my personal clothing when she got mad. I also helped her raise three litters of her own babies.
Sadie – Our Golden Retriever was found in the mountains in a hollowed-out log with her litter mates. What a Lady!
Bear – Our Sheltie, had to have been one of the smartest dogs that I ever had the pleasure of training. He was amazing! I did the basics, but my oldest really took off with him, going all the way to the state fair with him in 4-H. I was so proud of them both.
Ollie – He was my first pug. I only had him 2 short years when someone stole him right off of our front porch. I searched for him for several years with no success.
Penny – Our second pug. God Bless her but that dog could not be quiet to save her life…its ok though because my kids couldn’t either so she fit right in.
Kitty – My Schnauzer – I loved her, though she found me to be too stressful. She fell in love with a friend of mine and I finally decided she was happier in a calmer environment than mine, so she got to stay with them.
Harley and Busa – My hubby and I found two twin black pugs. We could not choose, so we got both. Creed, my husband, loves fast bikes, and I love the big noisy ones. I leave you to it to guess who belonged to who…lol…no I won’t…Besides, I think that Harley’s pic is all over every current piece of social media I have…lol.
There are too many furry creatures to mention, as myself and my children adopted every creature known to man, so I will stop here for your sakes. It has been a few years now, since we said goodbye, and now for the first time in my life, I am an orphan.
Do not take this as a bad thing, as I count every single year we had together as a blessing, and since I believe in all things having a purpose and a time, I will allow God to select my next forever home…
*Note to future perspective furry companions: I walk myself, I don’t eat much, nor do I pee on the floor, and I only bark at or bite my husband, promise!
Sometimes, the only peace and quiet available to a parent is cowering underneath the covers in your bed. Here is where my first husband and I found ourselves one afternoon, when our oldest was about 6 and our middle child was about 3 and a half. Apparently, at this stage in life, our oldest felt it was her duty and responsibility in life to assume the roll of assistant mom to her younger siblings. Our middle child, however, felt it her mission in life to be our comic relief star. She was specialized in constantly badgering her older sibling, just to see what would happen, lol.
As we lay in our room seeking solace, we could distantly hear these two going back and forth verbally with one another over something. We both cracked up at how funny they sounded. We hesitated to get involved for several reasons. One reason was because we encouraged our children to try learning to communicate and work out their differences. The second reason was because it was just way too much fun for us to listen to them trying to sound adult.
Suddenly though, it became uncomfortably quiet for a moment, followed by a bit of a scuffle sound. From the silence that followed the sound, we could hear our middle child whispering a panicked and desperate “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” to our oldest, as the fall of footsteps could be heard heading our way. The desperate whispering continued as my oldest paraded herself loudly down the stairs to our room. As she reached the bottom of the landing outside our doorway, we could see her stop, turn to look at her sister, and so that we could hear her clearly, she loudly announced, “It’s not sorry time now”, mimicking me!
We were laughing so hard at how well she could impersonate me, that we didn’t hear her tell us what had happened, and to this day I cannot say that I recall what the offending child had actually ever done to her sibling…
Journey With Me! 