My Beloved

I have to take this week to publicly praise my husband, Jonathan - my first ministry.

Jonathan, thank you for being a hero to me. Thank you for working hard to provide for us, and to make broken things heal. Thank you for letting me cry, and never despising my tears.

Thank you for consistently choosing to be on the same team with me, especially when I treat you like we're not.

I love the ooey-gooey way you talk to our doggie, because you adore her. This week, you made me drink Superfood because of all the nutrients in it. You let me lay down and try to sleep and never complained about my obnoxiously loud nose-blowing sessions.

You made sure I went back to the doctor.

You fed me.

Before anyone else called back or cared as much, you did what you could to fix the gas leak in the house. It was hard, sweaty work, and you did it with joy.

There are circumstances that hurt my heart last week that only you and God know about. And I am safe with both of you.

When you say "it's going to be okay," I'm beginning to believe you.

Thank you for giving me the space to be weak. I am not alone. It's not all up to me. It will get done even if I don't do it.

You have been the lifter of my head.

I see you. I see your heart. I love you. I am so blessed that you are my husband.

Song of Songs 5:10-16

A Lesson From My Dog

My dog Ransom freaks out whenever we pass a storm drain. The storm drains line almost every street we walk. Sometimes, they sneak by because Ransom's deterred by a squirrel or a scent. But when she keys in on a storm drain, no matter where we stand (my favorite is when we're crossing a busy intersection), she will dig her paws into the pavement, buckle down, and pull away from the drain.

We rescued Ransom one year ago this month. I'll never know what she experienced, but my heart hurts thinking of her wandering around White Rock Lake, foraging for food, abused by past owners and given up to the street.

It took a while to pinpoint the source of her fear - was it a bush, or boulders? Uncut grass? Me? It took even longer for me to respond appropriately to Ransom's fear. So many times, I tugged at her in frustration, and yelled "come on!" to scare her out of her...fear - partly because we were about to become road-kill, and partly because I cared more about getting out of the street than about what put us there.

There are so many stormy places in my heart: places where I have been disappointed or betrayed by a loved one; places that bring a groundswell of instant pain and fear. I can't say that I always respond logically and spiritually every time I'm tested by those familiar storms. My Father cares about those places and wishes to take me through in order to bring calm. And the Savior walks with me, and provides friends to walk alongside so I am not overcome.

Think of Mark 2:1-12: a man is in such need of body and soul care that his friends rip up a roof and lower him down into the presence of Jesus. How does Jesus respond? "When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."" And He heals him, body and soul. And before the healing, the friends carry the paralytic. They are undeterred by the closed door. They heft him to the roof. They cake their hands with dirt to get to the Healer.

It takes time, love, burden-bearing, and prayer, to bring a loved one out of their pain and encourage them into the healing presence of God. (And if they're anything like me, they will need reminders. Often.) So many times, pithy advice and half-listening leads to further injury. Praise God for a real friend.

Yesterday, Ransom and I went for a walk. She saw storm drains on both sides of the street. She hunkered down. No cars in sight, thankfully.
I bent down and looked into her plaintive eyes, and whispered, "it's okay. You can do it, girl. You can do it."

I almost cried watching her hunker, then walk a little and wag her tail, then hunker, then walk faster, tail whooshing madly, till she crossed right in between those drains.