The last two posts have been somewhat heavy, so I thought it might be time to switch gears and revisit my gift list. For those who aren't familiar with my gift list, this isn't a list of gifts I want to request when the next birthday or holiday rolls around but rather a list of gifts the Lord has given me.
I started my gift list at Christmas in 2010 after reading Ann Voskamp's blog and later her book One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are, and I've continued to list the gifts daily ever since then. It's a discipline that I don't ever want to stop practicing because it daily reminds me that the Lord hasn't forgotten about me and that He continues to pour out His grace on an undeserving sinner.
#3398. Not having any duties at home: the gift of singleness
#3405. A friend's example of selflessness
#3450. Being able to return unnecessary purchases
#3460. Long phone chat with my sister
#3467. Getting to sleep in
#3478. A day with no plans
#3481. Friends to sit with at church
#3485. Blackberry aqua fresca
#3491. Being able to confess sin immediately
#3497. Body of Christ coming together to raise funds for a family
#3498. Giving me words for a letter to a friend
#3507. Hearing a powerful testimony at the dry cleaners
#3514. Laughter during a book
#3525. That You can handle outbursts and frustrations
#3538. Hard eucharisteo: water leak in garage
#3553. Running water restored
#3604. How You are showing up big to some people who need to see You right now
#3645. That You are not a God of confusion
#3652. Hard eucharisteo: thwarting my plans
#3676. Getting upgraded to reserved seats
#3680. Butternut squash soup in the summer
#3701. Hearing a friend's testimony over lunch
#3722. Songs on the radio that speak to my heart
#3743. Coming home to two cards
#3758. Unplanned slumber party
#3765. Saving me from spending money
#3789. An army of prayer warriors
#3819. FaceTime with family
#3843. Being able to help a friend
#3854. Wisdom from a friend
#3861. Getting a reply to my tweet from Ann V
#3910. Recognizing my wrong assumptions
#3921. Fall weather
How is the Lord blessing you right now, even today?
Showing posts with label One Thousand Gifts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label One Thousand Gifts. Show all posts
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
20 Things I've Learned
Sometimes it feels like I learn the same things over and over again. I'm not sure if it's because I didn't fully process the lessons the first time, because God is driving home a point, or both. So I thought it might be time to put some down in writing. I'm hoping that by writing out the lessons I've learned, I'll take them to heart.
1. It's not about you.
Rick Warren's book The Purpose Driven Life opens with the above statement, and it's one of the most profound four-word sentences ("Jesus Christ is Lord" is of course the best four-word sentence). This lesson could stand alone, but I've found a couple of corollaries.
2. Not everyone who is mad is mad at you.
See Lesson #1.
3. People don't spend time obsessing over you, so stop obsessing over yourself. This lesson could also read: The impurities that you focus on when you are a half inch from the mirror cannot be seen my most people.
See Lesson #1, again.
4. Worry accomplishes nothing.
As a follow-up to lesson 3, I thought this was worth mentioning because I've struggled with worry. It constantly makes a come-back. But I'm trying to leave it off my mind's to-do list.
5. Back away from the lists occasionally to see if what is on them REALLY matters.
I've learned that if I leave things on my to-do list for long enough, some of the items become moot. Chances are some of the things I put on my lists weren't important to begin with, which is probably why I never found time to do them.
6. Focus on people more than things and tasks.
I'm embarrassed to admit how much I struggle with this. I have a strong affinity for completed tasks, and sometimes my single-minded focus on a task causes me to ignore the people God has put in my life.
7. Take down the to-do list from its pedestal as an idol.
This will make Lesson #7 easier. There are no rewards on earth or in Heaven for the number of completed to-do lists. I need to let that sink in.
8. Keep the Sabbath.
I've written about the benefits of Sabbath rest multiple times on here. I can't say enough about how observing this spiritual discipline has changed me for the better.
9. Fight for other white space on your calendar in addition to the Sabbath.
A Saturday, or even an evening, with nothing on the agenda can be as healing as a vacation and avoids the hassle of packing and traveling; plus, it's cheaper.
10. Count your blessings using a pen and paper.
For me, this is my one thousand (or now almost 3,500) gifts list. Write them down so that you can go back and see God's faithfulness. Fears are conquered when thankfulness abounds.
11. Most people are more approachable than we think; dare to speak.
I approached the Head Coach of the University of Texas baseball team after a loss, even after being warned that he might not sign the ball because he takes losses hard. I didn't get a word out of him, but I did get an autograph.
12. People never tire of encouragement.
I haven't yet experienced a time when someone rejected this.
13. People never tire of genuine praise.
Same as with Lesson 12.
14. Knowing when to speak and when to be silent is hard.
I'm not sure if I'll ever grasp this lesson on this side of eternity. It's one area I constantly need to pray for wisdom about.
15. Don't assume you know how people feel; ask them.
I tend to say things like, "I bet you had a great vacation." But maybe it was the vacation that everyone got sick on or that didn't go as planned. Open-ended questions are better for finding out how people really feel.
16. There is a ministry of presence.
Simply showing up and being present with people means you gave the gift of time. I experienced this when a friend made the three-hour drive in from Houston for my dad's funeral and then turned around and made the three-hour drive back. It ministered to me deeply.
17. You do not have to finish every book you start.
It took a long time for the "finish-what-you start" part of me to be okay with this. But when I realized that you don't get back the time that you spend on bad books, I took this to heart. Give yourself the grace to put down a bad book.
18. It's okay to give away things that you were given but that you don't use and don't see yourself ever using.
Clutter takes up physical and emotional space and can be a drain. Let someone else love your stuff, and let them get the "joy" of taking care of it.
19. Comparison is the thief of joy. - Theodore Roosevelt
Roosevelt hit this right on the mark. When I feel this setting in, it's time to get the gifts book out and start recording what I'm thankful for.
20. You can change your story.
Shauna Niequist just wrote an excellent blog post on this topic. It's also fresh on my mind because there are thirteen weeks of summer ahead. Unfortunately, I still have to work. But the days feel longer with sunlight lasting until almost 9 p.m., and I want to make the most of them. I feel like thirteen weeks is a good chunk of time to try new things and develop new habits. So, we'll see how it goes.
This is just a start, but I know there are many other life lessons to learn. What lessons have you learned?
1. It's not about you.
Rick Warren's book The Purpose Driven Life opens with the above statement, and it's one of the most profound four-word sentences ("Jesus Christ is Lord" is of course the best four-word sentence). This lesson could stand alone, but I've found a couple of corollaries.
2. Not everyone who is mad is mad at you.
See Lesson #1.
3. People don't spend time obsessing over you, so stop obsessing over yourself. This lesson could also read: The impurities that you focus on when you are a half inch from the mirror cannot be seen my most people.
See Lesson #1, again.
4. Worry accomplishes nothing.
As a follow-up to lesson 3, I thought this was worth mentioning because I've struggled with worry. It constantly makes a come-back. But I'm trying to leave it off my mind's to-do list.
5. Back away from the lists occasionally to see if what is on them REALLY matters.
I've learned that if I leave things on my to-do list for long enough, some of the items become moot. Chances are some of the things I put on my lists weren't important to begin with, which is probably why I never found time to do them.
6. Focus on people more than things and tasks.
I'm embarrassed to admit how much I struggle with this. I have a strong affinity for completed tasks, and sometimes my single-minded focus on a task causes me to ignore the people God has put in my life.
7. Take down the to-do list from its pedestal as an idol.
This will make Lesson #7 easier. There are no rewards on earth or in Heaven for the number of completed to-do lists. I need to let that sink in.
8. Keep the Sabbath.
I've written about the benefits of Sabbath rest multiple times on here. I can't say enough about how observing this spiritual discipline has changed me for the better.
9. Fight for other white space on your calendar in addition to the Sabbath.
A Saturday, or even an evening, with nothing on the agenda can be as healing as a vacation and avoids the hassle of packing and traveling; plus, it's cheaper.
10. Count your blessings using a pen and paper.
For me, this is my one thousand (or now almost 3,500) gifts list. Write them down so that you can go back and see God's faithfulness. Fears are conquered when thankfulness abounds.
11. Most people are more approachable than we think; dare to speak.
I approached the Head Coach of the University of Texas baseball team after a loss, even after being warned that he might not sign the ball because he takes losses hard. I didn't get a word out of him, but I did get an autograph.
12. People never tire of encouragement.
I haven't yet experienced a time when someone rejected this.
13. People never tire of genuine praise.
Same as with Lesson 12.
14. Knowing when to speak and when to be silent is hard.
I'm not sure if I'll ever grasp this lesson on this side of eternity. It's one area I constantly need to pray for wisdom about.
15. Don't assume you know how people feel; ask them.
I tend to say things like, "I bet you had a great vacation." But maybe it was the vacation that everyone got sick on or that didn't go as planned. Open-ended questions are better for finding out how people really feel.
16. There is a ministry of presence.
Simply showing up and being present with people means you gave the gift of time. I experienced this when a friend made the three-hour drive in from Houston for my dad's funeral and then turned around and made the three-hour drive back. It ministered to me deeply.
17. You do not have to finish every book you start.
It took a long time for the "finish-what-you start" part of me to be okay with this. But when I realized that you don't get back the time that you spend on bad books, I took this to heart. Give yourself the grace to put down a bad book.
18. It's okay to give away things that you were given but that you don't use and don't see yourself ever using.
Clutter takes up physical and emotional space and can be a drain. Let someone else love your stuff, and let them get the "joy" of taking care of it.
19. Comparison is the thief of joy. - Theodore Roosevelt
Roosevelt hit this right on the mark. When I feel this setting in, it's time to get the gifts book out and start recording what I'm thankful for.
20. You can change your story.
Shauna Niequist just wrote an excellent blog post on this topic. It's also fresh on my mind because there are thirteen weeks of summer ahead. Unfortunately, I still have to work. But the days feel longer with sunlight lasting until almost 9 p.m., and I want to make the most of them. I feel like thirteen weeks is a good chunk of time to try new things and develop new habits. So, we'll see how it goes.
This is just a start, but I know there are many other life lessons to learn. What lessons have you learned?
Sunday, May 26, 2013
His Grace in Providing Peace and Gifts in the Storms
During springtime, I keep one eye on the radar at all times when I know a storm is headed our way. I take storm warnings very seriously. I am ready at a moment's notice to head to the half bath and hunker down with my Bible, my cell phone set on the weather app, a flashlight, food, water, and whatever other earthly provisions I think might be helpful to have on hand.
This spring, the weather tended toward the cool side, and the radar stayed calm during March and April. I assumed that we had made it through the spring unscathed.
Then last weekend, the weather forecasters started warning that Monday had the potential for severe weather, including tornados and hail. This was all set to occur on Monday afternoon and evening, which was the very same time that my friend Nick had gotten me a ticket to a taping. And this was not just any taping, but a taping with my favorite author and blogger, Ann Voskamp, and an opportunity to meet with her after the taping. And so the wrestling with the fear of the storm versus this wonderful opportunity began.
On the way to pick up a friend at the airport on Sunday evening, my route took me by the building where the taping would occur. A quick glance revealed that the building was a tank; it looked like it could weather just about anything. So I took comfort in thinking that if I could get to the building, I would be fine.
As Monday afternoon rolled around, and the radar lit up with green, yellow, red, and even purple, I decided it might not be a good idea to drive my newish car to the taping and found a coworker whose route home takes her right by where I needed to be. My car could stay in covered parking at work.
With those details nailed down, and in spite of reports of the tornado damage that had occurred in Moore, Oklahoma, I decided that I would take the plunge and head to the taping. Yet, I kept asking my coworker who was driving me to the taping whether this was crazy (after all, she had survived a tragic tornado in Wichita Falls), but she assured me that she would keep me posted of any weather developments and was willing to come and pick me up afterwards if the weather was bad. I'm so grateful for her encouragement and her help because the Lord had great things in store.
As I sat in the audience and waited for my friend Nick to arrive, I felt the covering of being under the Lord's wing--that same covering described in Psalm 91. The weather was the furthest thing from my mind as James and Betty Robison interviewed their guests, including Ann. As Ann shared from her book One Thousand Gifts A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are, I was reminded of why I have continue to record the gifts the Lord has given me--because it helps conquer fear as you see His faithfulness daily.
After the taping, they announced that Ann would stay for twenty minutes to visit with members of the audience. At the twenty-minute mark, she had only signed autographs and taken pictures with a handful of the fifty or so people who were in line; when the staff asked whether she wanted to leave, she replied that she would stay until she had gotten to every single person. Her generosity with her time was beautiful.
We were the last in line because she had wanted to speak to my friend Nick. I was blessed to hear how her blog touched his life in such a profound way that he left a successful career in the corporate world and responded to the Lord's leading to attend seminary. He then blessed Ann with a special gift for her son who is headed to college.
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As the evening came to a close and more stories poured in about the devastation that had occurred from the storms that had swept through Oklahoma, the enemy tried to inflict guilt: How could I have gone to such an incredible event when others were hurting? But the triumph is that I went to the taping IN SPITE of fear and was blessed to experience the Lord's covering. That was what the Lord had for me on Monday evening, and I would have missed out had I given in to the fear.
As Ann's inscription so beautifully reminded me: "Alyssa, your testimony means so much to Jesus! You are so loved by Him. All is grace. Eucharisteo!"
Yes, all is grace. And His gifts continue:
#3391: Getting to meet Ann Voskamp
#3392: Hearing Nick's testimony of how Ann's blog impacted his life
This spring, the weather tended toward the cool side, and the radar stayed calm during March and April. I assumed that we had made it through the spring unscathed.
Then last weekend, the weather forecasters started warning that Monday had the potential for severe weather, including tornados and hail. This was all set to occur on Monday afternoon and evening, which was the very same time that my friend Nick had gotten me a ticket to a taping. And this was not just any taping, but a taping with my favorite author and blogger, Ann Voskamp, and an opportunity to meet with her after the taping. And so the wrestling with the fear of the storm versus this wonderful opportunity began.
On the way to pick up a friend at the airport on Sunday evening, my route took me by the building where the taping would occur. A quick glance revealed that the building was a tank; it looked like it could weather just about anything. So I took comfort in thinking that if I could get to the building, I would be fine.
As Monday afternoon rolled around, and the radar lit up with green, yellow, red, and even purple, I decided it might not be a good idea to drive my newish car to the taping and found a coworker whose route home takes her right by where I needed to be. My car could stay in covered parking at work.
With those details nailed down, and in spite of reports of the tornado damage that had occurred in Moore, Oklahoma, I decided that I would take the plunge and head to the taping. Yet, I kept asking my coworker who was driving me to the taping whether this was crazy (after all, she had survived a tragic tornado in Wichita Falls), but she assured me that she would keep me posted of any weather developments and was willing to come and pick me up afterwards if the weather was bad. I'm so grateful for her encouragement and her help because the Lord had great things in store.
As I sat in the audience and waited for my friend Nick to arrive, I felt the covering of being under the Lord's wing--that same covering described in Psalm 91. The weather was the furthest thing from my mind as James and Betty Robison interviewed their guests, including Ann. As Ann shared from her book One Thousand Gifts A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are, I was reminded of why I have continue to record the gifts the Lord has given me--because it helps conquer fear as you see His faithfulness daily.
After the taping, they announced that Ann would stay for twenty minutes to visit with members of the audience. At the twenty-minute mark, she had only signed autographs and taken pictures with a handful of the fifty or so people who were in line; when the staff asked whether she wanted to leave, she replied that she would stay until she had gotten to every single person. Her generosity with her time was beautiful.
We were the last in line because she had wanted to speak to my friend Nick. I was blessed to hear how her blog touched his life in such a profound way that he left a successful career in the corporate world and responded to the Lord's leading to attend seminary. He then blessed Ann with a special gift for her son who is headed to college.
.JPG)
As the evening came to a close and more stories poured in about the devastation that had occurred from the storms that had swept through Oklahoma, the enemy tried to inflict guilt: How could I have gone to such an incredible event when others were hurting? But the triumph is that I went to the taping IN SPITE of fear and was blessed to experience the Lord's covering. That was what the Lord had for me on Monday evening, and I would have missed out had I given in to the fear.
As Ann's inscription so beautifully reminded me: "Alyssa, your testimony means so much to Jesus! You are so loved by Him. All is grace. Eucharisteo!"
Yes, all is grace. And His gifts continue:
#3391: Getting to meet Ann Voskamp
#3392: Hearing Nick's testimony of how Ann's blog impacted his life
Monday, June 6, 2011
The Gifts of Family, Food, & Fun
Though I haven't blogged about it recently, my list of gifts continues. The list grew exponentially after spending the past week with my family.
Getting to see both my mom and sister other than the holidays is a treat because our work schedules don't always coincide. But the extra planning that went into getting us together for the week of Memorial Day was well worth it. I only wish there were more pictures to capture all the gifts we shared over this week.
771. Safe, timely travel by train
772. Laughter with Mom and Erin
...
775. Games with family
...
777. Family nap time
778. Homemade chocolate chess pie
779. Watching Tiffany D make-up videos with Erin
...
781. Getting an eye appointment with my childhood optometrist and eye drops that cure eye infections
782. Skip Bo at Nona's
783. Thank-you text from a friend
784. Going through childhood jewelry boxes to find "treasures" like old fortunes from Chinese restaurants
...
786. Rolling Erin's hair on hot rollers
787. Erin applying my make-up
...
789. Fish tacos at the lake
790. Hotel room with perfect view of the Austin bats (only we never saw them!)
791. Breakfast at Trio with pancakes that Wolfgang Puck raved about
792. Whipped sweet potatoes from Galaxy Cafe
793. Home Slice Pizza
794. Catching up with Erin's friend
795. Sustaining energy to attend conference despite lack of sleep, a rash, a fever, and a raging sinus infection
...
797. Awesome lunch at East Side Cafe
798. Safe travel from Austin back to hometown
...
800. Sleeping in my childhood bed
801 & 802. Wearing hats to a tea and hearing stories of redemption at the Christian Women's Job Corps
803. More games
804. Safe travel back
...
806 807. Having a friend pick me up at the train station and bringing me home so that I wouldn't have to face an empty house (1st trip since Annie passed away)
Getting to see both my mom and sister other than the holidays is a treat because our work schedules don't always coincide. But the extra planning that went into getting us together for the week of Memorial Day was well worth it. I only wish there were more pictures to capture all the gifts we shared over this week.
771. Safe, timely travel by train
772. Laughter with Mom and Erin
...
775. Games with family
...
777. Family nap time
778. Homemade chocolate chess pie
779. Watching Tiffany D make-up videos with Erin
...
781. Getting an eye appointment with my childhood optometrist and eye drops that cure eye infections
782. Skip Bo at Nona's
783. Thank-you text from a friend
784. Going through childhood jewelry boxes to find "treasures" like old fortunes from Chinese restaurants
...
786. Rolling Erin's hair on hot rollers
787. Erin applying my make-up
...
789. Fish tacos at the lake
790. Hotel room with perfect view of the Austin bats (only we never saw them!)
791. Breakfast at Trio with pancakes that Wolfgang Puck raved about
792. Whipped sweet potatoes from Galaxy Cafe
793. Home Slice Pizza
794. Catching up with Erin's friend
795. Sustaining energy to attend conference despite lack of sleep, a rash, a fever, and a raging sinus infection
...
797. Awesome lunch at East Side Cafe
798. Safe travel from Austin back to hometown
...
800. Sleeping in my childhood bed
801 & 802. Wearing hats to a tea and hearing stories of redemption at the Christian Women's Job Corps
803. More games
804. Safe travel back
...
806 807. Having a friend pick me up at the train station and bringing me home so that I wouldn't have to face an empty house (1st trip since Annie passed away)
Friday, April 15, 2011
One Thousand Gifts in One
I've learned through my sweet dog Annie that sometimes God gives us multiple gifts all rolled into one. And that when God takes away that one gift, you lose so much more than just the one.
Mom had always said that dogs smelled, and so we never had a dog while I was growing up. When I bought my house in 2003, high on the priority list was a house with a fenced-in yard so that I could get a dog. I eased my way in at first, renting my upstairs to a gal who had a dog.
When they moved out in February 2004, I was officially ready to adopt my first-ever dog. I completed the adoption paperwork for Rescue Goldens of DFW and waited. I kept seeing profiles of great dogs online and called to check on their statuses. The behaviorist who matches Goldens with future owners told me, "You don't want the dogs we have right now; they're too hyper." Finally, the week of March 16, 2004, I received notice that I had been matched with five-year-old Annie, who had been dropped off by a family who gave her up because her nails scratched their hardwood floors. The following Saturday on March 21, a friend drove me to Carrollton to meet my forever dog, and it was not only worth the wait but love at first sight! I never imagined getting to have such a pretty dog.
Upon arriving at my house, Annie scoped it out, peed upstairs, and started carrying around the toys I had bought for her, so I figured that was a good sign that she would keep me. That first night, I had no idea what to do. I didn't own a crate. I just brought her in the bedroom, told her goodnight, and said, "I hope you know what you're supposed to do." She did. She curled up in a corner and let me sleep all night, every night thereafter (as long as it wasn't thundering).
It quickly became apparent that her feet didn't do well on my ceramic tile flooring. So my mom searched online and found some dog boots with grippers. We started out with a cheap pair to see if she'd actually keep them on, and after realizing that biting them only meant she bit her foot, she accepted them. She even recognized that she needed them and would bring them to me in the mornings to put them on so that she could walk off the bedroom carpet steadily onto the ceramic tile in the rest of the house. Her red boots were her trademark, and everyone recognized her because of them.
It was obvious from the start that we were two peas in a pod. We both fought drippy noses constantly and battled GI issues. We both loved being at home, just relaxing. And we were both a bit fearful of storms, and when the doorbell would ring unexpectedly, we'd glance at each other as if to say, "Are we brave enough to answer that?"
Early on, we also realized that we didn't know how to communicate with one another. She'd go stand at the door to go potty, but if I wasn't in the kitchen, I had no idea that's what she wanted. So, she would come over right beside me and lick me or look at me and lick the furniture. I'd ask if she wanted to go potty, and she always did. Though sometimes it was merely a ploy to go outside and let the wind blow through her hair.
Our limited communication besides the licking consisted of a few core words that every dog should know: walk, go (her favorite word), ride, boots, babies, sit, vote, and God. She recognized all of those, but I can't speak for her complete understanding of them.
There were so many times that I wished she could speak. She listened to so much from me and just took it in. But there was never a time when I wished for more communication from her than in the past twenty-four hours.
After a week that started with a ride to Glamour Paws for a bath and haircut and after fetching her baby numerous times on Wednesday night, I came home on Thursday evening to find her not acting like herself. She didn't bring her baby to greet me and went straight to her water bowl. She drained it 1.5 times. She wasn't interested in going potty, which she had never turned down. After coaxing her outside, she went potty and then her legs seemed to give out. She eventually walked back inside, laid down for a bit, and then went back outside and stood with the wind blowing through her hair for about 5 minutes. After resting for a while, she tried to get up, but her legs wouldn't work. She eventually collapsed and vomited. After finding a neighbor to put her in the car, I rushed her to the emergency clinic where her symptoms were a bit of a mystery. Blood work showed that her counts were bad (high white cell count, low platelet count, and others I don't remember). It appeared that there was an infection, an immune system disorder, kidney failure, and possibly internal bleeding.
A night on an iv, antibiotics, and steroids didn't improve the counts. When I went to see her this morning, she was completely lethargic and mostly nonresponsive, though she made eye contact with me. But right as I was about to make "the decision," she rallied and raised her head and wagged her tail every time I said "potty." Unfortunately, she couldn't stand and wouldn't potty when carried out, and she wouldn't eat. But due to her rally, I requested that the nightly regimen be continued in hopes of a more definitive answer.
Around 4:30, the blood work showed that she was only getting worse, with the potential of bleeding to death. That was the definitive, though unwanted, answer I needed to hear.
I held her sweet head in my hands and looked into her big brown eyes for over an hour and told her over and over what a sweet dog she was, how blessed I was to have had her in my life, and how much I was going to miss her. She took it in, never losing my gaze, and sighing several times in, what I interpreted as, agreement. I kissed the bridge of her nose and stroked her fur until the time came.
I hope I don't remember that last part, as peaceful as it was. I pray to only remember the incredible seven years that she served as my faithful companion and friend:
--How I tried to take in everything this past Christmas because I sensed that it might be the last one with her;
--How she responded with such intrigue when Mom blew her shofar and how she would hunt for it in the closet after Mom put it away;
--How she always went to sleep in the corner but then moved to the closet after I turned off the lights;
--How she loved to lie in my spot on the bed until it was time for me to go to bed and how thankful I was that she warmed that spot for me during the cold winters;
--How she loved to put her head on pillows and sleep on them;
--How much she loved sitting on the first couch I had and taking it over as hers;
--How much I enjoyed watching her watch TV and responding to the recorded sounds of doorbells and crying babies as if the sounds were real;
--How she bathed just like a cat and how much I loved to watch her wash her face with her paws;
--How she never begged at the table for food as she was content as long as she got to smell it;
--How she often chose to use the table as a tunnel and walk right under it between the chairs;
--How she would stand at attention near the refrigerator when it was open in hopes of receiving yogurt or canned dog food;
--How she always came to the kitchen when she heard the sound of a can being opened with the manual can opener;
--How she was shy as soon as I pulled out a camera;
--How she hated the sound of the batteries being changed in the smoke detectors and how I tried to change them when she was outside;
--How all of my friends always asked how she was doing;
--How much she loved her moose "baby" and how gently she treated all of her toys, which never wore out;
--How I missed her every time I boarded her and looked forward to coming back so I could pick her up;
--How well she rode in the car, making road trips of 4.5 hours and longer seem like a breeze;
--How she had the softest fur on her head and the cutest curly hair on her ears;
--How she ALWAYS came when I called her;
--How she always licked her left paw after eating peanut butter, as if to save some for later;
--How she enjoyed carrying part of the mail in the house;
--How she would come check on me when I was getting ready in the mornings;
--How she expected a walk every time she saw my tennis shoes;
--How she loved to wear bandanas that my mom made for her;
--How she hunted for geckos every time we got back from a walk because they seemed to hang out near the front door;
--How she pointed when she saw a squirrel or a rabbit;
--How she loved to hunt at the back door for squirrels, rabbits, and cats;
--How she only barked in her sleep;
--How she put on a rodeo show every time we went upstairs, showing agility and energy that didn't seem possible for her age;
--How she used her tail as a drum when I would sing;
--How she would let me brush her teeth;
--How tickled she would get when I brushed her;
--How she let me push the snooze button, over and over, sighing only occasionally to show her discontent;
--How we referred to the house as "Annie's house" because it was hers as she was the Alpha dog;
--How she would wear my glasses with pride;
--How she rescued her babies, the remote, and any shoes left out in the den to the bedroom every night;
--How our motto of "Annie hair is everywhere" helped break me of perfectionist tendencies in cleaning my home;
--How there were always kisses for Annie;
--How she danced with Uncle B;
--How she never met a repairman she didn't want to play with her;
--How she never could contain her enthusiasm (a/k/a jumping) when she greeted people at the door;
--How she played with her old boots as toys;
--How she would get out the football toy to play with on Saturdays during college football games;
--How the sound of keys jingling would make her come running with a concerned look on her face of "please don't leave";
--How she danced in place to show that she wanted to go for a ride;
--How she would raise her ears and hold her breath when she recognized a word;
--How she couldn't resist licking lotion on people's legs;
--How she taught me that sighing and stretching are good things;
--How she loved my mom and sister and how they loved her;
--How she always missed me and welcomed me home, even if I was gone just a minute;
--How consistent she was;
--How I could trust her around children and furniture because she wasn't a biter; and
--How she trained me to take care of her.
Pictures of her are proudly displayed on my mantle, my desks, and my phone, but more importantly, they are carved on my heart. She was a one-of-a-kind sweetheart, my brown-eyed girl, whom I dearly miss already. I'm so grateful God placed her in my life and let me love on her for seven years; I only wish that she could have stayed forever. Because Annie was so much more than a single grace gift, her loss is hard to bear. I think this is what Ann Voskamp calls the ugly beautiful.
Annie
Born: February 1, 1999
Adopted: March 21, 2004
Went to Heaven: April 15, 2011
Mom had always said that dogs smelled, and so we never had a dog while I was growing up. When I bought my house in 2003, high on the priority list was a house with a fenced-in yard so that I could get a dog. I eased my way in at first, renting my upstairs to a gal who had a dog.
When they moved out in February 2004, I was officially ready to adopt my first-ever dog. I completed the adoption paperwork for Rescue Goldens of DFW and waited. I kept seeing profiles of great dogs online and called to check on their statuses. The behaviorist who matches Goldens with future owners told me, "You don't want the dogs we have right now; they're too hyper." Finally, the week of March 16, 2004, I received notice that I had been matched with five-year-old Annie, who had been dropped off by a family who gave her up because her nails scratched their hardwood floors. The following Saturday on March 21, a friend drove me to Carrollton to meet my forever dog, and it was not only worth the wait but love at first sight! I never imagined getting to have such a pretty dog.
Upon arriving at my house, Annie scoped it out, peed upstairs, and started carrying around the toys I had bought for her, so I figured that was a good sign that she would keep me. That first night, I had no idea what to do. I didn't own a crate. I just brought her in the bedroom, told her goodnight, and said, "I hope you know what you're supposed to do." She did. She curled up in a corner and let me sleep all night, every night thereafter (as long as it wasn't thundering).
It quickly became apparent that her feet didn't do well on my ceramic tile flooring. So my mom searched online and found some dog boots with grippers. We started out with a cheap pair to see if she'd actually keep them on, and after realizing that biting them only meant she bit her foot, she accepted them. She even recognized that she needed them and would bring them to me in the mornings to put them on so that she could walk off the bedroom carpet steadily onto the ceramic tile in the rest of the house. Her red boots were her trademark, and everyone recognized her because of them.
It was obvious from the start that we were two peas in a pod. We both fought drippy noses constantly and battled GI issues. We both loved being at home, just relaxing. And we were both a bit fearful of storms, and when the doorbell would ring unexpectedly, we'd glance at each other as if to say, "Are we brave enough to answer that?"
Early on, we also realized that we didn't know how to communicate with one another. She'd go stand at the door to go potty, but if I wasn't in the kitchen, I had no idea that's what she wanted. So, she would come over right beside me and lick me or look at me and lick the furniture. I'd ask if she wanted to go potty, and she always did. Though sometimes it was merely a ploy to go outside and let the wind blow through her hair.
Our limited communication besides the licking consisted of a few core words that every dog should know: walk, go (her favorite word), ride, boots, babies, sit, vote, and God. She recognized all of those, but I can't speak for her complete understanding of them.
There were so many times that I wished she could speak. She listened to so much from me and just took it in. But there was never a time when I wished for more communication from her than in the past twenty-four hours.
After a week that started with a ride to Glamour Paws for a bath and haircut and after fetching her baby numerous times on Wednesday night, I came home on Thursday evening to find her not acting like herself. She didn't bring her baby to greet me and went straight to her water bowl. She drained it 1.5 times. She wasn't interested in going potty, which she had never turned down. After coaxing her outside, she went potty and then her legs seemed to give out. She eventually walked back inside, laid down for a bit, and then went back outside and stood with the wind blowing through her hair for about 5 minutes. After resting for a while, she tried to get up, but her legs wouldn't work. She eventually collapsed and vomited. After finding a neighbor to put her in the car, I rushed her to the emergency clinic where her symptoms were a bit of a mystery. Blood work showed that her counts were bad (high white cell count, low platelet count, and others I don't remember). It appeared that there was an infection, an immune system disorder, kidney failure, and possibly internal bleeding.
A night on an iv, antibiotics, and steroids didn't improve the counts. When I went to see her this morning, she was completely lethargic and mostly nonresponsive, though she made eye contact with me. But right as I was about to make "the decision," she rallied and raised her head and wagged her tail every time I said "potty." Unfortunately, she couldn't stand and wouldn't potty when carried out, and she wouldn't eat. But due to her rally, I requested that the nightly regimen be continued in hopes of a more definitive answer.
Around 4:30, the blood work showed that she was only getting worse, with the potential of bleeding to death. That was the definitive, though unwanted, answer I needed to hear.
I held her sweet head in my hands and looked into her big brown eyes for over an hour and told her over and over what a sweet dog she was, how blessed I was to have had her in my life, and how much I was going to miss her. She took it in, never losing my gaze, and sighing several times in, what I interpreted as, agreement. I kissed the bridge of her nose and stroked her fur until the time came.
I hope I don't remember that last part, as peaceful as it was. I pray to only remember the incredible seven years that she served as my faithful companion and friend:
--How I tried to take in everything this past Christmas because I sensed that it might be the last one with her;
--How she responded with such intrigue when Mom blew her shofar and how she would hunt for it in the closet after Mom put it away;
--How she always went to sleep in the corner but then moved to the closet after I turned off the lights;
--How she loved to lie in my spot on the bed until it was time for me to go to bed and how thankful I was that she warmed that spot for me during the cold winters;
--How she loved to put her head on pillows and sleep on them;
--How much she loved sitting on the first couch I had and taking it over as hers;
--How much I enjoyed watching her watch TV and responding to the recorded sounds of doorbells and crying babies as if the sounds were real;
--How she bathed just like a cat and how much I loved to watch her wash her face with her paws;
--How she never begged at the table for food as she was content as long as she got to smell it;
--How she often chose to use the table as a tunnel and walk right under it between the chairs;
--How she would stand at attention near the refrigerator when it was open in hopes of receiving yogurt or canned dog food;
--How she always came to the kitchen when she heard the sound of a can being opened with the manual can opener;
--How she was shy as soon as I pulled out a camera;
--How she hated the sound of the batteries being changed in the smoke detectors and how I tried to change them when she was outside;
--How all of my friends always asked how she was doing;
--How much she loved her moose "baby" and how gently she treated all of her toys, which never wore out;
--How I missed her every time I boarded her and looked forward to coming back so I could pick her up;
--How well she rode in the car, making road trips of 4.5 hours and longer seem like a breeze;
--How she had the softest fur on her head and the cutest curly hair on her ears;
--How she ALWAYS came when I called her;
--How she always licked her left paw after eating peanut butter, as if to save some for later;
--How she enjoyed carrying part of the mail in the house;
--How she would come check on me when I was getting ready in the mornings;
--How she expected a walk every time she saw my tennis shoes;
--How she loved to wear bandanas that my mom made for her;
--How she hunted for geckos every time we got back from a walk because they seemed to hang out near the front door;
--How she pointed when she saw a squirrel or a rabbit;
--How she loved to hunt at the back door for squirrels, rabbits, and cats;
--How she only barked in her sleep;
--How she put on a rodeo show every time we went upstairs, showing agility and energy that didn't seem possible for her age;
--How she used her tail as a drum when I would sing;
--How she would let me brush her teeth;
--How tickled she would get when I brushed her;
--How she let me push the snooze button, over and over, sighing only occasionally to show her discontent;
--How we referred to the house as "Annie's house" because it was hers as she was the Alpha dog;
--How she would wear my glasses with pride;
--How she rescued her babies, the remote, and any shoes left out in the den to the bedroom every night;
--How our motto of "Annie hair is everywhere" helped break me of perfectionist tendencies in cleaning my home;
--How there were always kisses for Annie;
--How she danced with Uncle B;
--How she never met a repairman she didn't want to play with her;
--How she never could contain her enthusiasm (a/k/a jumping) when she greeted people at the door;
--How she played with her old boots as toys;
--How she would get out the football toy to play with on Saturdays during college football games;
--How the sound of keys jingling would make her come running with a concerned look on her face of "please don't leave";
--How she danced in place to show that she wanted to go for a ride;
--How she would raise her ears and hold her breath when she recognized a word;
--How she couldn't resist licking lotion on people's legs;
--How she taught me that sighing and stretching are good things;
--How she loved my mom and sister and how they loved her;
--How she always missed me and welcomed me home, even if I was gone just a minute;
--How consistent she was;
--How I could trust her around children and furniture because she wasn't a biter; and
--How she trained me to take care of her.
Pictures of her are proudly displayed on my mantle, my desks, and my phone, but more importantly, they are carved on my heart. She was a one-of-a-kind sweetheart, my brown-eyed girl, whom I dearly miss already. I'm so grateful God placed her in my life and let me love on her for seven years; I only wish that she could have stayed forever. Because Annie was so much more than a single grace gift, her loss is hard to bear. I think this is what Ann Voskamp calls the ugly beautiful.
Annie
Born: February 1, 1999
Adopted: March 21, 2004
Went to Heaven: April 15, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
A Heavenward Perspective
I confess that there have been times in my life when I've gone days, weeks, and even months without thinking about Heaven. In the past, Heaven came to the forefront of my mind when someone was battling a terminal illness or when Easter was approaching.
But this year has been different. Heaven has constantly been on my mind.
It started a few months ago with hearing Hillsong's "You Hold Me Now." After that, I listened to Matt Carter's sermons on Heaven. He mentioned that his wife had made a playlist on her ipod of songs about Heaven, and that got me on the lookout for more songs focusing on Heaven. Then, I attended a presentation on "Israel in the Crosshairs," and Jesus's return seemed even more imminent. And this past Saturday, I had the opportunity to hear Hillsong live.
I've never experienced anything like that night. From the diverse crowd filled with every nationality imaginable to the unabashed worship with hands raised, I sensed that I was getting a glimpse of Heaven.
But this year has been different. Heaven has constantly been on my mind.
It started a few months ago with hearing Hillsong's "You Hold Me Now." After that, I listened to Matt Carter's sermons on Heaven. He mentioned that his wife had made a playlist on her ipod of songs about Heaven, and that got me on the lookout for more songs focusing on Heaven. Then, I attended a presentation on "Israel in the Crosshairs," and Jesus's return seemed even more imminent. And this past Saturday, I had the opportunity to hear Hillsong live.
I've never experienced anything like that night. From the diverse crowd filled with every nationality imaginable to the unabashed worship with hands raised, I sensed that I was getting a glimpse of Heaven.
As I've continued to count my own One Thousand Gifts, I'm seeing more and more glimpses of Heaven here on earth - gifts that He has put in my path to enjoy here until I get to enjoy the gift of eternal life with Him.
#339 - Being up in time to see beginning of a sunrise
#340 - Feeling of freshly shaved legs (after a long time of not shaving)
. . .
#343 - Sister's prayer for my healing
#344 - Respite from sinus headache
. . .
#346 - Robin eggs and Cadbury Mini Eggs
. . .
#365 - Psalm 91:12's picture of angels lifting us up in their hands
As Lent begins tomorrow, I anticipate that this year my perspective will be a bit different in light of this gift counting. I will continue to focus on the amazing gift that Jesus gave by taking away my sins by dying on the cross, but I also hope to see more and more of the gifts that come from having eyes opened to see the gifts that come daily, not just once a year.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Winners of One Thousand Gifts
Because it was my first giveaway, I decided to change the rules. I decided to "draw" the winners a day early and to reward those who entered. So both commenters will receive a book! Due to the holiday, the books should go out in the mail on Tuesday. Happy reading!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Seeing Is Believing (+ A Giveaway!)
It's the cure for ingratitude. It always precedes the miracle. It leads to joy.
IT is eucharisteo.
I hadn't heard that term before but am so grateful that Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts introduced me to it. What started out as a dare to count 1,000 of the daily gifts from God became a way of life for Ann, and in the process, she traced the roots of eucharisteo not just through her life but through the Bible.
Her book has been described as life-changing. But why? Because taking time to write down the little moments helps us to fully live instead of rush through life. When I write down thanks for pipes not freezing, for the gift of a snow day (or 5) at home, for the super soft fur on my dog's head, it's as if life slows down a bit.
I started listing gifts back at Christmas and just took the time today to number them. There were over 200 gifts that most likely would have slipped away if I hadn't started counting. And in the process, I've discovered what Ann says on page 151 to be true: "Count blessings and discover Who can be counted on." Prior to that, Ann says on page 150 in discussing fear, "Nothing has materialy changed since yesterday's fears, last week's anxiety. But I have. I'm changing."
As one prone to give in to fears, I needed the insight she provided in chapter 8. I needed to be reminded to trust the Bridge Builder and that thanks is what builds trust.
I have never underlined this much in a book that I wasn't going to be tested on. But I want to live out what Ann talks about because her life is not perfect, but it is a beautiful, pure offering - one so opposite from this world - that it draws me in. And I hope it draws you in, as well.
Because I love this book so much, I have already given away two copies, but I bought another to give away here. Just leave a comment telling about one of His special gifts to you, and leave your name so that I can contact you if your name is chosen. I'll draw one person's name at random on Jan. 21.
And as you're reading the book, don't miss the video interviews with Ann here. So far, she has discussed the first two chapters and done an intro. Her passion and excitement in sharing eucharisteo is obvious and contagious. I hope you catch her passion for eucharisteo and start your own list of 1,000+ gifts.
IT is eucharisteo.
I hadn't heard that term before but am so grateful that Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts introduced me to it. What started out as a dare to count 1,000 of the daily gifts from God became a way of life for Ann, and in the process, she traced the roots of eucharisteo not just through her life but through the Bible.
Her book has been described as life-changing. But why? Because taking time to write down the little moments helps us to fully live instead of rush through life. When I write down thanks for pipes not freezing, for the gift of a snow day (or 5) at home, for the super soft fur on my dog's head, it's as if life slows down a bit.
I started listing gifts back at Christmas and just took the time today to number them. There were over 200 gifts that most likely would have slipped away if I hadn't started counting. And in the process, I've discovered what Ann says on page 151 to be true: "Count blessings and discover Who can be counted on." Prior to that, Ann says on page 150 in discussing fear, "Nothing has materialy changed since yesterday's fears, last week's anxiety. But I have. I'm changing."
As one prone to give in to fears, I needed the insight she provided in chapter 8. I needed to be reminded to trust the Bridge Builder and that thanks is what builds trust.
I have never underlined this much in a book that I wasn't going to be tested on. But I want to live out what Ann talks about because her life is not perfect, but it is a beautiful, pure offering - one so opposite from this world - that it draws me in. And I hope it draws you in, as well.
Because I love this book so much, I have already given away two copies, but I bought another to give away here. Just leave a comment telling about one of His special gifts to you, and leave your name so that I can contact you if your name is chosen. I'll draw one person's name at random on Jan. 21.
And as you're reading the book, don't miss the video interviews with Ann here. So far, she has discussed the first two chapters and done an intro. Her passion and excitement in sharing eucharisteo is obvious and contagious. I hope you catch her passion for eucharisteo and start your own list of 1,000+ gifts.
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