Morning Markings...

Pigeon and DiDi share the couch when possible.

Please don't think me strange, but it has come to my attention that my dogs are more popular than I am. All things considered, popularity is not something that I have ever been too concerned with, but if Pigeon and DiDi were ever concerned, they need not be anymore.

When my professors see me, one of the first things I get asked is, "so, how are the dogs? Do they still like Chicago?" or my friend Angel asks, "how are my babies today?" I have some friends that come over just to see them. Pigeon gets the sympathy card for being blind, DiDi gets it because Pigeon gets all the attention. So it balances out. They have even made friends with the local pet store people. About once a week they go in for a visit while on a walk and get lots of treats from the girl behind the counter and get to visit with their little pomeranian friends. And when people from home call, they always ask about the dogs. Of course, they ask how I am too, but people realize what an important pat of my life they are. They are after all, part of my ministry most days. The neighborhood kids even know them as the dogs that you can hug. I know this sounds silly, but God gave me a great gift in my dogs. (Maybe this is why I am still single...)

Each morning I wake up in my one bedroom apartment in Hyde Park on the south side of Chicago. I don't have my glasses on yet, but I can always look to my left and there on the floor, side by side are two large masses, one dark brown and the other yellow, slowly and gently moving up and down. I can hear them breathing, and sometimes snoring. They seem to know me better than I know myself. They lie practically motionless until they finally hear me let out my daily residual sigh that I must get out of bed. Once they hear that breath they jump together. Pigeon knocking herself over with her happiness and her tail and DiDi with her slow, cat-like stretch. They make their way to the side of the bed and fight for my free hand to pet them. Although blind, Pigeon knows exactly where I am so she can fight DiDi for my morning affection.

I go to the restroom and they sit outside and wait. Afterwards, I walk into the kitchen to turn on the kettle for my morning tea. I usually turn the computer on, raise the blinds in the apartment, turn on Peter, Paul and May's "Where have all the flowers gone?" and begin to get dressed. By this time they have resigned that they will go out at the same time as every morning, after the tea kettle has whistled. Pigeon on the couch with DiDi sleeping in an open crate with pillows, or with DiDi on the couch and Pigeon curled up on my bed, sleeping among my mass of pillows.

The morning walks consist of running down the alley behind our apartment to the gate, which we then proceed out onto the sidewalk for morning markings. DiDi uses the restroom out of necessity, Pigeon, on the other hand, uses it out of spite, I am sure. She patiently waits until DiDi is done and marks her territory directly on top of DiDi's scent. Next, we make our way to the park a block over. I'll spare you the details, but I do wish to say that each morning, before I even get to enjoy my tea, I have to take care of someone else's crap. Take that as you will.

After the morning walk they settle in, that is of course, after they have had several treats. They find their places in the apartment where they are happy for the time being. Bones are strewn all over the house as well as kong chew toys and the water bowls are plentiful.

I leave for campus or church, and each time I leave and return, no matter for how long, it is though I have been gone for eternity. Nothing seems to make them happier than my safe return. And nothing makes me happier than their continual love.

This is what we get from dogs, love like God. Let's face it, God spelled backwards is dog. They have no judgment, they have a memory of around 5 minutes at max (so you are completely forgiven for yelling at them when they eat your shoe or get into the garbage), and they are totally dependent upon you for their survival.

When kids at camp would ask me if I thought animals went to heaven, I can't help by hope that Pigeon and DiDi will be there too. Obviously, their life span is much shorter than a humans, but I can't help but wish that they would be here for as long as I am. I can't imagine having a family without them, or growing old without them. They have been my constant companions for over 5 years now. That's not something easily given up. But the whites on their chins are beginning to show, and it saddens me to see that. When they were puppies and still young they would roll around the house, playing constantly. Now, older and probably a bit wiser, they sleep most of the time, chew on their bones and watch me as I do my Hebrew homework, attempting to dissuade me from working so I will give them the ever anticipated belly scratch.

I don't suggest college kids getting animals, but I don't regret mine. I don't regret the money spent on medicine and special dog food for DiDi and her sensitive stomach, or the nights that were sleepless because Pigeon had to go the the emergency room because she ate an entire bag of dog food. I don;t regret them, ever. They were a gift, and I think it would be much harder to live away from family and friends right now without them. They make it feel like home.

Pigeon snuggling with her bone.

Another week of Debauchery

Ok, not so true. There has been no debauchery going on. Mostly studying and going to class. I'm having to fight to even write a post, blogging has never been my thing. Sharing all of this information with everyone is quite difficult. Mostly because people don't need to know everything. Some things are private and should be kept that way. So why am I doing this? 


Reason 1: I'm in a new city, with new people, going to seminary. I want people to be updated. There are so many people out there who love and support me. People who are praying for me and who call me or e-mail me to check on me. I want them to be updated and to let them know that first, I'm alive and well. I'm thriving. I've never known God to be so amazing. (I knew He was but seminary is a whole new ball game...) Second, I do appreciate everyone and all that they have done for me and given me.


Reason 2: I spoke with one of my pastors about doing this before I left. He seemed to think it was a good idea. It might give me a way to work things out in writing. But how do you work things out when you have to censor yourself? Like I said earlier, there are some things that don't need to be shouted from the rooftops until you are ready to share them and have throughly thought them through. (Try saying that last part three times fast...) But maybe it will give me an outlet. I don't know who is reading this and I'm not sure that anyone will... I don't really read other peoples blogs on a regular basis, only when I think about it. So why should I assume that people will read mine? Well, I guess I should assume that no one will and I do this only for myself. 


I just turned in a paper on baptism. Infant baptism. I believe in it; that's not to say that adult baptism isn't great, it is but it's not the only option. But is it an option, you ask, if you don't choose it? Well then, let me put it this way, you're already a child of God, you don't get a choice there. The choice you have is whether or not you're going to live that part out. That's where that darned thing called "free will" comes into play. (It's great but sometimes I want to kick myself for how it plays out sometimes.)


In infant baptism, someone else makes a choice to take part in a sacrament that is an outward symbol that we are claimed by God at birth. They make a promise to care for the child, and make a covenant with God that they will raise the child to know and love God; they take on the responsibility to raise the child ethically and in God's love to know and understand God and to become an active participate in their own baptism. Yes, I said active participant.


When you're baptized, it's only the beginning of your ministry (yes, YOUR ministry). Jesus began his minstry when he was baptized, so let's get on with it. I perfer to get started early. Your baptism is not complete until your death. So, those people, that community that you are involved in, are making a covenant with God (not a contract or simply a promise, but a covenant), that they will take on all the responsibility for you, teach you how to be responsible with God and your relationship with Him, and then empower you to do the same as them for others after you. Personally, I find that pretty big and hard to wrap my head around. 


When I think of my own baptism, I think of the stories I was told. My grandparents were there, my parents, my older sister. And all the people that I have grown up with in my life. Those people made a promise to love me and care for me. And they did just that. Sure, people don't always do such a good job, probably because they don't understand the responsibility that comes with baptising someone. When an audlt gets baptized, they can make their own deicisons, it's less of a community effort and more about the individual being washed clean into a new life with Chirst. Well, I hate to break it to them, but Christ was always there, they just had to look for him. 


I love it when people say, "I didn't have Christ in my life until so and so..." Um, he was there. Yep, sure as my dog is blind, he was always there.