Category Archives: Perseverance

Chronic Fatigue – Vanishing Spoons (Part 1)

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The analogy made perfect sense to me. My dear friend, who has courageously struggled with several disabilities throughout her life, passed on a story about a young woman who was trying to describe what it’s like to have limited energy.

“Imagine you are given twelve spoons at the beginning of the day,” the story goes.   Each spoon represents energy expenditure . . . physical, mental, and emotional.   For most people, twelve spoons are more than enough to sail through the day, and they can th73STMV1Aalways go to their silverware drawer and get more, if needed. However, in the case of someone with a chronic illness or disability, seemingly small activities can cause a spoon to disappear before a “normal” person has even touched one. Continue reading →

Heart Friends

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One of the fun things about blogging is that it generates comments from friends. (Let’s face it, when you are a new blogger, most of your readers are existing friends!)   The majority of comments I’ve received have been through Facebook and email—not “official” comments seen on my blog page.   I have savored every word, not just because it’s nice to get feedback on my writing, but because each comment represents a connection with someone special. I know there is validity in what they are saying, because we share familiarity beyond the pages of my blog. This is particularly true for those who fall into an elite category I call “heart friends.”

best-of-friends-poster-c10048568[1] (2)Heart friends are the rarest and most precious of comrades. Their friendships transcend distance and life-changes. They are the buddies you can go for years without seeing, and then step right back into a deep connection as if you had never been apart. I was blessed with my very first heart friend, Sandy, in fourth grade. Our friendship has spanned the decades from prancing around like horses at recess, to scouring the mall to find the perfect Gunne Sax prom dresses, to swapping stories about being middle-aged!

I have been extremely blessed to discover additional heart friends along several stops in my life’s journey.   All have brought their unique personalities and life experiences to the table. However, I’ve also noticed that there are common characteristics in all of my heart friendships:

  1. We embrace similar core values and beliefs.
  2. We trust each other implicitly.
  3. We talk easily and share deeply.
  4. We laugh with (and sometimes at) each other.
  5. We keep confidential things confidential.
  6. We can “be ourselves” when we’re together, imperfections and all.
  7. We can count on each other for help, day or night.
  8. We pray for one another.
  9. We enjoy just “hanging out” together.
  10. We are each other’s cheerleaders and encouragers.
  11. We aren’t afraid to lovingly speak the truth, even when it’s hard to hear.
  12. We hold one another accountable.
  13. We extend grace and forgiveness to one another.
  14. We challenge each other to grow.
  15. We feel each other’s pain and celebrate each other’s successes.

Heart friends aren’t born overnight. When I think of how I met and cultivated my dearest friendships, it was always through shared experiences. The relationships gradually unfolded in the midst of attending school, participating in musical groups, being involved in church activities, or working together. Over time the connections transformed from acquaintances, to casual friends, to “forever friends.”

I believe everyone yearns for a heart friend. We were designed for emotional intimacy—to know and to be known. All of us need a “go-to” person whom we can count on, no matter what. Our hearts long for someone who thoroughly knows us and yet completely loves us.

Yet there can be times in our lives when the landscape feels void of intimate friends.  I have experienced those desert times when I know many “nice” people, but a heart friend just hasn’t emerged.  If you can relate, I encourage you to step out of your comfort zone and look for ways to connect with people who share common interests and values.  Most of all, I pray that you will seek a deeper relationship with the greatest heart friend of all, Jesus.   He is intimately acquainted with all your ways (Psalm 139:3) and loves you with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3). Best of all, he’s available right this moment and promises to never leave or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5).

God is indeed the best friend of all, yet he also designed us to need earthly companions. My pal Sandy sent me a little plaque years ago with a quote that captures the magical moment when a heart-friendship is ignited:

“What made us friends in the long ago when first we met? Well, I think you know; The best in me and the best in you hailed each other because they knew that always and always since life began our being friends was part of God’s plan.” – George Webster Douglas

To my long-time friends reading this, I treasure you. To my newer friends (and readers), I’m looking forward to knowing you better.   As I close this post, I’m humming a little song I learned in Girl Scouts years ago, “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other’s gold.”

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“A friend loves at all times . . .” Proverbs 17:17 (NIV)

“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend.” Proverbs 27:17 (NLT)

“. . . there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” Proverbs 18:24 (NIV)

“I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” John 15:15 (NIV)

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

– Joseph M. Scriven, 1855

What a friend we have in Jesus,

All our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer!

Oh, what peace we often forfeit,

Oh, what needless pain we bear,

All because we do not carry Everything to God in prayer!

Have we trials and temptations?

Is there trouble anywhere?

We should never be discouraged— Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Can we find a friend so faithful,

Who will all our sorrows share?

Jesus knows our every weakness;

Take it to the Lord in prayer.

The Kisser (Bailey, Part 3)

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To get the complete story, please read Chosen (Bailey, Part 1) and The Fearbiter (Bailey, Part 2) first!

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It was a break-through moment.  My dad and I had persevered for close to a year, gently trying to help Bailey overcome his abusive past.  To that point Bailey had exhibited fear and oftentimes aggression if anyone other than me came too close.   That Sunday dad arrived for his routine visit and sat down in his usual place on the couch. Bailey boldly jumped up next to him. Then, he did something he had never done before—he laid  down with his front paws overlapping my dad’s leg, anticipating a treat. We rejoiced, as it was the first time Bailey had ever intentionally touched my dad.

Bailey's miraculous moment--touching dad for the first time

Bailey’s miraculous moment –touching dad for the first time.

From that day on, Bailey only continued to improve. In the six years since his adoption, he has changed from an abuse-scarred animal into a loving, well-behaved, handsome fellow—in short, the perfect pooch for our family. Now when we go to my dad’s house for a visit, Bailey can’t wait to tear through the door and run straight for my dad, who is usually sitting in his recliner. Bailey takes a flying leap into his “granddad’s” lap and my father delightedly exclaims, “Well, hello, buddy!” When family visits from out of town, Bailey is in doggie-heaven. He makes the rounds, moving from lap to lap to receive the maximum number of tummy-rubs.

A moment of mutual adoration--Dad and his granddog

A moment of mutual adoration–Dad and his granddog

A few months ago Bailey was due for some booster vaccinations.   A vet who had never seen him before came into the exam room to administer the shots. Opening the file, she saw the word “FEARBITER” highlighted at the top of the folder—a label that had remained on Bailey’s record since his first fateful visit to the clinic.   “When should we muzzle him for his shots?” she asked. “I really don’t think that’s needed,” I replied. “Bailey is not the same dog he was when he first came out of the animal shelter.”   The vet took my word for it and proceeded to inject Bailey in the scruff of his neck. He didn’t even flinch. Then my “boy” did something that made my heart burst with pride. He reached up and gave the vet a lick on the nose.

She immediately grabbed Bailey’s file, reached for her pen, and scribbled furiously. When she turned the folder so I could see it, a huge smile broke out across my face.   “Fearbiter” was obliterated, and in its place a new word was written in large capital letters: KISSER. I couldn’t have been more proud than if I was a parent watching my child cross the stage at commencement. That moment officially commemorated Bailey’s transformation. And it reminded me that it was no accident that God led Bailey to choose me to be his “mom.”

Jane and Bailey 9-12 003 (2)

Bailey the Kisser

Bailey’s story taught me many lessons. I learned that negative behavior often has hurt and fear at its core. More importantly, I witnessed the transforming power of persevering love, gentleness and kindness.   I now realize that when God brings someone into my life that is exhibiting behavior that is difficult to be around, I need to be patient. The Creator isn’t finished with him or her yet—or with me. It’s possible that a fear-biter may really be a kisser in disguise.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.”

I John 4:18

“Love is patient, love is kind . . . It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 

1 Corinthians 13: 4, 7

Bailey on Don's lap (3)

Bailey this summer, loving time on his “uncle’s” lap at a concert in the park.

The Fearbiter (Bailey, Part 2)

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To get the full story, please read Chosen, Part I first!

Our first visit to the vet was a disaster. Bailey trembled and huddled next to me in the exam room as we waited. The veterinarian entered and sat next to us on the padded bench. Though he spoke softly to try and calm Bailey, he was met with a growl and a flash of teeth every time he tried to reach for him.   The vet opened Bailey’s fresh medical chart and wrote in capital letters at the top: “FEARBITER.” The veterinarian never was able to touch Bailey that day. I drove home disappointed and confused. Had I made the wrong decision in adopting this dog? What had I gotten myself into?

Over the next few weeks I saw the same pattern repeat itself. Any time someone got too close to Bailey, especially a man, he nipped in response.   Things came to a head one day as we were walking through the neighborhood and two unleashed little dogs ran aggressively toward us. Not knowing what would happen, I scooped up Bailey to avoid a tussle. The dogs’ owner crossed the street to try and gather her wayward pets. As she came up behind me, Bailey transformed into a Tasmanian devil and wheeled around to try and bite her. In the process, he nicked my chin. . .the same chin he had kissed so tenderly at the animal shelter the day we met. Still carrying Bailey, I kept walking, my face bleeding. I could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. My heart was pounding, too, and breaking. This was not the type of dog I had wanted.

That day added to the evidence that Bailey must have been seriously abused before I got him. Only he (and God) knew what cruelties he had endured at the hand of his previous owner. It deeply angered me to think of how someone could mistreat such an innocent animal. I knew I had a decision to make—take him back to the shelter, or stick with him. I decided to commit to Bailey for the long haul, choosing to believe that at his core he was not a vicious dog. I had no idea how long the road would be, but I hoped that the power of persevering love would help him overcome his fears.

Over the next few months, I continued to give Bailey a safe home filled with gentleness. My dad joined the mission during his routine visit every Sunday afternoon. While Bailey trusted me, my dad was another story.   I thought it might help if Bailey associated a man with good things, so I started having my father toss treats to Bailey every time he’d visit. Bailey would warily snatch the food, staying as far away from dad as he could. Gradually he started inching a little closer to grab the delicacy, but would never let dad touch him. A few months into the process, I added another element of placing Bailey on the couch between dad and me for brief periods, reassuring him the entire time. Bailey would stiffen up and press hard against me to remain as far away from dad as possible. Over time, I tried holding dad’s hand in mine and stroking Bailey’s back a few times. I could sense Bailey’s anxiety as he expected dad’s large hand to deliver pain instead of comfort.

Sometimes the progress seemed imperceptible, or would even take a step backwards. More than once dad said, “Do you think he’ll ever change?” Then one landmark day, eight months after adopting Bailey, something miraculous happened.

Read the conclusion  here.

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Chosen (Bailey, Part 1)

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The day was finally here. After many years of renting, I owned my own home with a fenced yard and could bring a dog into my life again. It had been a long wait—three decades since my precious terrier-mix Dusty had to be put to sleep. I still kept Dusty’s little homemade ceramic grave marker, with the words “He truly was man’s best friend,” painted in gold.   The new adoptee would have big paws to fill.

As I entered the animal shelter, excited barking ensued as dogs of all sizes pressed their noses against their wire kennel doors.  I was on a specific mission – looking for a small smooth-coated, sweet-natured female dog I had seen two days before. I remembered she had been sharing a kennel with a whitish scruffy dog. I found her (or so I thought) still sharing space with the same muttly creature. “I’ll take a look at that one,” I said, pointing to the brown dog.

The animal shelter worker brought the dog into a private room so I could get to know her. Immediately I noticed something was different. For one, she was a he! And he wanted nothing to do with me, as exploring the room and piddling on the floor were his top priorities. I realized this was not the same dog I had seen before. I poked my head out the door and say “Um, this one’s not for me.”

With no other small dogs to choose from, I motioned to the bedraggled cell mate of the piddler. “I guess I’ll give that one a try,” I said. The door closed behind us and I sat down on the cement floor with my legs crossed. The pathetic little fellow surveyed me for a moment, then to my surprise, walked over and gingerly climbed into my lap.   I reached down and tentatively petted him. He was anything but appealing. Besides the odor rising from his body, he had a matted scraggly coat, a grease streak blazoned across his head, bare patches of skin on his legs and his face, and a strangely protruding lower lip. In short, he was downright homely. But as he sat there in my lap, I noticed his tense muscles began to relax. He looked up at me with hopeful brown eyes and gave me a quick kiss on the chin.   I realized this little guy, who didn’t even come close to the mental image of what I thought I was looking for, had chosen me.

I carried him out into the lobby area and held him on my lap. “He’s the one,” I said to the woman who had been assisting me. While we were waiting, an animal control officer entered the room. He told me how one of the City’s police officers had found my new friend foraging for food in a remote area of the county, where he most likely had been dumped. “How old do you think he is?” I asked. The officer gently reached down to check the dog’s teeth to help determine his age, and was met with a growl and a lightning-fast nip.

Something inside me said this was not a good sign, but I chose to shove the warning aside.   In a couple of days, the dog, who by then I had named “Bailey,” was officially cleared for adoption.   I brought Bailey home and introduced him to what I thought would be his “forever home.” Over the next few weeks I would begin to wish I had heeded the warning.

Continued in The Feartbiter (Bailey, Part 2).

 

Bailey photo - 1st day

Bailey on his first day home