One of the first things I learned in preaching class, a whole lot of years ago, was that it’s not a wise idea to tell stories about your family from the pulpit without their willing permission.

This is often true for blogging, as well, so — just to be clear — Luther and his 4-footed sisters are totally ok with my telling you about our learning event last night.

In fact, I think Luther’s pretty proud!

We did half an hour of aerobic grooming, he and I.

Now, we’re not talking ready for Westminster but we are talking significant progress for a Newfoundland dog born in Michigan attempting to adapt to summer in Atlanta.

Luther didn’t learn grooming in the abysmal puppy mill from which he was rescued. It’s taken him a while to warm up to the idea.

And, because it’s still kind of scary for him and very close to the floor for me, we probably don’t do it as often as we ought.

I was thinking about that as I brushed four, maybe six, entire Pekingese dogs worth of hair out of Luther.

Here’s what I realized:

After all the knee surgeries and the back episodes and the cranky neck and shoulder, I’ve become quite the expert at stillness.

I think it goes even farther back than that.

I grew up in a time and place in which Children (especially sweet, girl children) should be seen and not heard. 

Where Keeping the Peace meant staying out of whatever it was. Rather like telling the dogs to leave it! when they’re eyeing my quilt or pondering barking at the traffic.

Not good or bad, per se.

Just not the only thing we need to learn.

In fact, there are lots of moments when sitting quietly, barely breathing, in hopes that nothing will happen, may not get us where we want to go!

So, last evening, after a pretty busy day that involved things like customer service people at the domain name market (which I would generally avoid!) and a coaching call which turned out to be great, I put a pot of soup on the stove to warm and dragged my little wooden Uncle Epictetus stool up beside the dog bed in my studio space.

I turned on some inspiring music and laid out tea along with the slicker brush, a comb, scissors, and treats.

Suddenly, I had three big dogs willing to play along!

Luther, however, didn’t make it to our recent spa day adventure, not being ready for strangers and dog brushes, so he was up first.

We started with the easy stuff. Back, shoulders, chest. And worked our way along to ears and tail which did require a couple of quick snips with the scissors.

I was exhausted, but still able to get up, which is a good thing.

Luther was pushing the edge of anxious and the soup was hot so we quit while we were ahead.

We didn’t make it to the belly, today.

But soon there will be another day when I’ll decide that a bit of intentional action might turn out better than keeping the peace.

And, in fact, that they’re not actually mutually exclusive!

Which is a good bit of noticing in the midst of aerobic dog brushing.

Then they all fell asleep and peace took over again.

Which is also worth noticing.

Next up, marathon Swiffering!

From our earliest days, the world teaches us to think in either/or and like/not like patterns.

Babies wear pink or blue. Well, they used to, when we were learning to think about the world.

We’re from around here or not.

Our earliest school days were spent on questions like which one is not like the others.

I literally remember being beet red embarrassed in first grade when presented with pictures of an orange, a lemon, a lime, and a banana and being herded into choosing which was not like the others.

First, let’s just admit that the whole concept of citrus fruit may be a bit of a fine distinction for a 6 year-old raised the Midwest US.

I just thought they were all fruit.

Race. Gender identification. Age. Social and political persuasions. Religious labels.

Sometimes it seems our whole world is organized around the notion of us or them.

And it’s not just an external thing.

There are also internal categories. Happy or sad. Loving or angry.

In fact, I remember learning somewhere along the way that humans could only experience one emotion at a time.

I almost said, just now, that, in my experience that isn’t true.

Instead, let’s go with the notion that, while it may be a useful idea some of the time, it may also not be a universal experience.

Friday was a day like that for me.

My mom would have turned 83 on Friday. I felt blessed and sad.

Blessed about having had a mom who loved me, who genuinely did the best she could.

Sad that she’s not here to see my girls growing and learning and being amazing people.

Blessed by an unexpected chance for a long chat with Dave.

Sad at the news of Tony Bourdain’s apparent suicide.

Sad for grieving friends and dreams cut short, closer to home.

I felt some other things, too.

Excited by progress with my painting.

And a bit anxious about some of the next steps in the larger journey of becoming an Intentional Creativity leader. Maybe a bit more than a bit!

Reminded that life is a great deal more about ambiguity than it is about certainty.

So… what do I write in the face of all that?

Three things come to mind.

• Perhaps it would help if we were at least as conscious of the both/and nature of life as we are about the either/or’s that surround us.
• The ability to claim what is precious, even in the face of what hurts, opens our emotional doors to hope.
• And, an old favorite… assume less!

Check, as the Facebook sages have been reminding us, on your friends and loved ones. ALL of them.

Be where you are.

Reach out if you need company or perspective or someone to listen.

Sometimes the strongest, most hopeful thing we can do is to ask for help.

And make soup! (Also art!!!)

Some of you may be wondering about the art for today. It’s an image that appeared for me in a guided visualization as part of the painting I’ve been working on. The visualization had a lot to do with doors and keys and key holes. (I didn’t realize that the image was perhaps supposed to be more in my head — where I don’t so much do images — as in the middle of my painting.)

So there it is. A little bare foot, minus the classic t-shirt, and a key with the initials SA.

They stand for the Latin phrase, solvitur ambulando, which means, literally, “It is solved by walking” and, figuratively, that problems are solved by taking concrete action. 

In my world, a polite suggestion by the being in my painting that some intentional walking might be in order. 

In the world where we all live, a reminder that, perhaps, there are lots of things to do if we want things to be different. 

Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope

You know how most kids have funny things they say that aren’t anywhere near standard English but the family all gets it?

Dave had quite a few.

I had seizures when I was in labor with him.

We were blessed that a few vision and language challenges were the major things we had to deal with.

He wrote and read backwards for quite a while.

He also said things backwards. Some of my favorites were shake milk, fix car, and cut hay which was Dave for hair salon.

The best of all, though, was I be’d have!

This was his way of assuring me that he had, in fact, behaved at school or Grammie’s or wherever.

We’ll save for later the possibility that I may have overused my go-to question in these moments!

I was laughing about these memories on Friday.

Our herd of Newfie rescues aren’t too good at staying home alone. It’s complicated and there are lots of reasons for it and challenges in changing it but the short version is that since Luther got here about 15 months ago, I’ve stayed home a lot.

The last time Bill and I went crazy and went out to lunch on a lovely weekend day, we arrived home to find that the four-footed kids had eaten the pantry. Literally.

Someone (Sarah!!!) had swiped half a dozen chia seed muffins off the top of a big stainless steel rack in our kitchen that came out of a restaurant.

I’m 5 feet 8 inches tall and we’re talking eye level.

It was kind of her to share which meant that everybody got really sick.

I had to use a paint scraper to get the slimed kale and kelp powder off the floor.

It was not a happy day.

Lately, we’ve taken to carry out wings from our friends at The Corner Pub.

On Friday, though, a friend of mine was in desperate need of a soup delivery. I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say half a gallon of turkey broth was in order.

After the dogs had eaten and were pretty much napped out, I snuck out the back door with my immune boosting magic and headed about six blocks down the road.

Hugs and drop-off complete, I hurried home, a bit anxious about what I would find.

They be’d have!

All was well with the full belly crowd and no paint scrapers were required.

I was hugely relieved.

I’ve also been pondering the notion of being have.

Specifically, I’ve been pondering those times when we behave according to possibly antiquated rules, instead of standing or speaking up when we need to.

Here’s an example.

Do you remember there being things we didn’t talk about in polite company?

Money, politics, religion, sex…

It reminds me of a particular Sunday in church when, according to the various calendars we live by, it was “the” Sunday for breast cancer, domestic violence, and stewardship.

I felt like there wasn’t anything I could say that would count for being have.

And yet, we need to talk about these things.

We need real, effective cures for breast cancer, and a great many other things, that are more about support for patients than profits for drug companies.

We need enforced laws for domestic violence and sex trafficking, and a realization that love is love.

We need accessible and accurate voting and the end to big money profit politics.

We need lots of things, but I’ll pause here for you to fill in a few from your list, too.

I know.

Some of you are thinking I haven’t be’d have just now.

And I’m going to do it one more time.

Maybe it’s not our job to simply behave according to outmoded standards that are mostly about not making anyone uncomfortable or keeping people in “their place.”

Maybe it’s our job to talk, calmly and respectfully, but clearly and with commitment, about the things that matter in our world.

Maybe it’s our job to say the things that desperately need to be said.

Maybe feeding the world is more important than knowing all the forks.

Maybe that’s what be-ing have is all about.

Dave was a pretty good teacher! My girls are off to a great start!