Wonderful Tragedy

What a wild ride it's been this week - mostly good, but with a touch (okay a lot) of sadness. David and Christine left for Haiti on Monday morning. This is the culmination of their dreams, and prayers, and hard work - it's so exciting and wonderful!! You could tell when they left that they were excited and ready to go! As a parent, that's the ultimate - to send your kids off knowing that they are in the center of God's will and doing what He has asked them to. How can I not be happy and excited for them?

All week they have been on my mind and in my prayers - what are they doing? Are they settling in okay? How's the food (you know, the important questions)? But at the same time there is that side of me that is going to miss them - a lot. I know that as we hit holidays and those times we would see them that there will be a big hole. One that can't be filled, but one that is a reminder of their sacrifice. It's a good reminder of what is important in life. I do admit I was so excited when David called last night - it was a brief conversation, but a good one. I am so thankful for technology that allows me to talk with my son who is thousands of miles away in a third world country - the connection was bad and we had trouble hearing each other - but it was him! It made my day. However, I don't want to get sucked into sadness or depression because they are gone - I want to rejoice in the fact that they are serving the Creator of the Universe in a very tangible, wonderful way - how amazing is that!! Besides, I'm so very proud of them for persevering and not giving up when the going got tough (and it did get tough), and for being willing to be who God wants them to be.

What am I doing to sacrifice? Am I serving God in the way that He has called me? I know that not everyone is called to live overseas as a missionary, but we are all called to be missionaries. We all have our own mission field. David and Christine could not be doing what they are doing if people didn't support them - and people can't support them without finances - which means most likely they have jobs. That's their mission field. We all live in neighborhoods - that's our mission field. Am I in the field? Am I sharing the good news? Am I sowing and planting and reaping?

Working in a church and not having kids in public school any more makes me realize how few non-believing friends I have - that's so not okay. So that begs the question - how do I change that? What is my mission field? How do I make the changes I need to? As I ponder all of this my prayer has to be - Lord, help me to be in the field that you want me to be!

Grief

Okay, so it seems like I should be mostly back to normal life - after all, it's been 3 days without our sweet dog Gracie. Why does it still hurt so much? I find myself expecting to have her come around the corner, or be lying by the warm fire. When I walk in the door I think I hear the jingle of her collar, but it's an illusion. I get up in the middle of the night and realize I'm trying to avoid stepping on the dog (she slept by my side of the bed), but she's not there, and her bed is gone. I drop food in the kitchen and my first thought is to call the dog - she'll clean it up. I go to talk to her but she's not there. Even the cat is wandering around the house looking lost - I think she's looking for her friend. She stands at corners looking around them, I think she's trying to see if Gracie is there. The house is so empty seeming. I realized that whenever I'm home, the dog is there....and she follows me from room to room, thus the nickname "Velcro Dog."

John and I need to start walking again, but will I be able to walk all those walks near home - the ones that Gracie always came on? Even going somewhere else to walk is hard, because she would go with us when we went anywhere to walk. I know, though, that she would want us to continue on without her.

So, it is a big hole and I guess it will take time to heal.

A Tribute to Gracie

We had to have our faithful, loyal dog, Gracie, put down today - one of the hardest things we've ever had to do because she is a member of the family. I keep reminding myself it's because we love her so much we chose to make this decision. I cannot believe how big the grief is, after all she's "only a dog." A dog that brought great joy to us and companionship and funny memories. I couldn't just let her go without writing her a letter (yes, I know she's "only a dog"):

Dear, dear Gracie,

Thank you so much for being a faithful companion all these years - you were always there no matter what, truly the picture of unconditional love. In fact, I often commented to "dad" (John) that you were an example of how I wanted live my life for Christ. You were devoted, you wanted to be wherever I was, you obeyed (well, most of the time especially as you got older), you loved me no matter what and you always listened without talking back. Unlike the cat - whom I also love - who is a bit more, should we say, independent? Unfortunately I think I may live my life more like Inkling than you. What a beautiful lesson, though, you taught me all these years. So as your mistress I want to say, well done, good and faithful servant.

I'll never forget the day we got you. We had gone to the humane society with our list of criteria a dog MUST meet - well, you met all but one. You were a bit bigger than we wanted. We had gone through all the dogs but for some reason I knew we had to go back and check you out - even though you were BIG! It was love at first sight. And then we found out that you had already had four homes and you were about to be put down because you hadn't been adopted yet and we knew we had to take you home. Especially when we found out that none of these people dropped you back off because of behavioral problems - but because their lives could not handle a dog anymore. You were 17 months old and housebroken - a big plus in our minds! Whoa, the energy you had when we first got you - you were a puppy in a big body. In fact, until a few months ago you still had that puppy look.

What great memories I have of you - the time a squirrel (yes a squirrel) ran along the fence and chased you and chattered at you - you were terrified. In your later years, you did learn that you were bigger and that you could chase them. But it was a hilarious scene.

When "dad" would go upstairs and put on blue jeans you just knew it meant we were going for a walk, and most of the time you were right. I don't know how you knew he had changed into jeans, but you did. He would even hide in the closet to change if we weren't walking - and you still got excited. How you loved to walk - even up until last night. Nothing could get you more excited than asking, "Do you want to go for a walk?" You could be sound asleep and you'd jump up and run to the door. I wonder how many hundreds of miles we've walked together - I know that we've walked 78 since January 1. How am I going to walk without the jangling of your collar and you stopping to check "pee mail" as dad so affectionately called it when you sniffed your way through a walk? You were one of the main things that would get us out the door at night if it was late or raining - because it was the highlight of your day.

Your second favorite activity in the world was going to doggie daycare - oh how I wish we could have sent you there once or twice a week. But we just couldn't afford to. But all we had to say, was, "do you want to go play with your friends" and you went leaping off toward the car. You couldn't wait to go! You'd come home exhausted and happy.

When I got home from work you would greet me at the door very enthusiastically - almost always with a bone in your mouth which kept you from jumping on people - it always made me happy to be home. How often are we greeted that way?

You had that big, big pink tongue with the black spot - that must have been the Springer in you. And then your ears - what funny ears. They looked like a black Labs until you got excited and then they looked like a German Shepherd's - very, very unique. It's part of what made you so special. You loved to lick people's jeans too, not quite sure what that was about.

Even though your body turned against you, you still lived to walk and spend time with your people. You never really let on how much pain you must have been in - you just kept loving us. I don't know if dogs get to go to heaven, I really like to think they do, but I do pray that you will greet me on the other side.

Gracie, I will miss you more than you can possibly know. Thank you for being a faithful friend.