Tails of Happiness

“As we muddle through the wreckage that’s half hope and half despair, you stand by like an anchor, tail wagging in the air." ~ Sarah Sypniewski “Paws Amidst Pain”

Clyde’s my name – therapy’s my game.  I help humans through grief and loss, pain and suffering, fear and anxiety, sadness and depression.  I have no formal training on the subject; to be honest I can’t even speak English.  I have no therapy couch – my patients get treatment in hospitals, nursing homes, schools, and disaster sites.  I’m a certified Therapy Dog.

I don’t mind that many of them are elderly, disabled, emotionally broken and possibly oblivious to their surroundings.  I love attention from people and accept them just the way they are.   Patients and residents look forward to my visits.  Many of them are lonely, bored and depressed, but their faces light up when they see me.

Larry loves my visits to his nursing home.  I’ve helped him overcome loneliness and boredom by entertaining him with my antics.  We’re more than just loveable canines; the nurses think our visits are one of the best types of therapy.

I’ll never forget Lacey, who fled her abusive home in the middle of the night.  Without the comforts of home, she left with only a small suitcase and without her beloved puppy.  A comforting substitute, I laid at the foot of her bed in the shelter until she found safe, restful sleep.

Sometimes the Red Cross calls me to work with their staff and volunteers at disaster sites around the country.  Their emergency workers labor tirelessly under stressful situations, but even they need a little therapy once in a while.  I provide “hugging time” for those who suffer their own emotional strain in dealing with the devastation of others.

Hal for example, discovered the dead body of a small child washed away in a Midwestern flood.  Dejected and forlorn, he sat trying to erase that memory from a mind that wouldn’t let it go.  I’m not exactly sure how my magic works, but his face brightened as I approached.  He reached out and stroked my fur as I gently nuzzled his leg.  “Thanks boy,” he said, as warm tears ran down both cheeks; defenses broken by a non-threatening, tail-wagging boxer. 

For those who think I’m “just a dog,” you probably “just don’t understand.”  You probably use words like “just a friend” and “just a sunset” too.  Dogs like me can’t heal somebody's wounds, but we do make a difference if you follow our example:

If you’re breathing, that’s reason enough to be cheerful.  Be yourself - it doesn't matter if you don't fit in!  Have fun, hug often, help whenever you can.  Accept everyone for who they are.  Make sure the people you care about know it.  And finally but most important - Bark less . . . wag more!  

Lord Jesus, Protect my friends, Your creatures, who provide happiness and unbridled companionship.  Help me bring joy to all humanity by diverting attention from the worries of the day.  ~ Love Clyde

There Goes the 'Judge'

“Dear friends, never become tired of doing good deeds!” ~ 2 Thessalonians 3:13

Gary loved fast cars.  Old or new, he loved working on them.  He loved the grease beneath his fingernails and the smell of exhaust.  He just loved everything about automobiles.

It was this adoration that drove (pun intended) him to purchase an old wreck he could restore with his son Teddy.  The ’69 Pontiac GTO (‘Judge’) had been sitting on blocks for so long, mice had found a nice home inside it; and the rust was so deep the car was now maroon.  It took a lot of work to return it back to pristine beauty, but father and son did just that. 

 

Their labor of love consumed much of their free time for several years, but it was worth every grease spot on their garage floor.  With its 370 horsepower, V8 Ram Air engine, specially equipped with high flow manifolds and a QuadraJet four-barrel carburetor, the car possessed power and might beyond their wildest dreams.

One night after the grown-ups had gone to bed, 15 year-old Teddy shifted the Judge into neutral, rolled it down the driveway and out of earshot, fired the engine and toured the neighborhood.  God he loved this car!  The rumbling exhaust served as a reminder of the brute power under the hood.  He aimed the car home, turned it off and pushed it back up the driveway . . . into the glare of his father waiting (not so) patiently for his return.

Gary was furious, but also strangely proud of his pimply-faced son.  He had showed respect for the machine, never burning the tires or tearing through the gear box.  So when Teddy graduated from high school, Gary’s gift was the Judge’s ‘pink slip.’  It was the happiest day of his life.  Literally!  Because Teddy’s life went from bad to worse shortly thereafter.

His Dad lost his good paying job as an auto worker.  Later that summer Gary was diagnosed with a cancer that spread quickly.  He died before Christmas, leaving his Mom with a mountain of medical bills, no income and an unpaid mortgage.  The house where Teddy had invested his childhood went up for sale.

To keep his Mom from losing their home, Teddy decided to sell the classic 1969 GTO that they’d restored and babied for as long as he could remember.  An eager collector answered the newspaper ad almost too quickly.  When he realized how passionate Teddy was about the car, he asked, “Son, why are you selling it?”  

Teddy explained without remorse.  The collector handed Teddy some crisp ‘Benjamin’s’ and said, “Here’s $5k in cash.  I’ve got the rest in my briefcase.  I’ll be right back.”  The collector walked out the front door, got in his car and drove away.  

He never returned.

Lord Jesus, may everything I do begin with Your inspiration, continue with Your Help, and reach perfection under Your Guidance.  Help me help others and in so doing, help me improve my health, happiness and disposition.  Amen

Kids Cents

“Young people - set an example for others by what you say and do, as well as by your love, faith, and purity."  ~ 1 Timothy 4:12

As the inky black of night paled to grey dawn, Daren sat up in bed breathing hard and drenched in sweat.  He coaxed himself to lie back down, but was far too restless to sleep.  He needed to get up and do something useful.  So he loaded the dishwasher, took out the trash and pulled out the fixin’s for pancakes. 

He awoke today like he had for the last six straight - with rage still burning, and panic churning.  Patti, his beautiful wife of 23 years, his soul mate, his best friend learned a week ago that she has breast cancer.  Right now, wallowing in self pity is more comforting that those sugary words of encouragement offered by friends imploring him to keep smiling and promising that everything will be alright.

She’ll undergo two 4-course chemo rounds and then radiation.  Daren’s less worried about Patti than he is for himself.  She’s a courageous, loving, cheerful person.  She’ll make it through this just fine.  His wife was sick, but he’s the one falling apart!

[Bills barely get paid now – so what happens when our savings run out?  What happens when I run out of vacation days and can’t take Patti to her chemo appointments?  Lord, why don’t I have cancer instead?  I don’t exercise, my blood pressure’s too high, and right now, I really don’t care!  Today I have to tell three children that their Mommy might die.]

The smell of fresh pancakes brought the entire crew scurrying to the kitchen.  Smiles immediately turned to frowns when the kids noticed Patti’s vacant stare and a box of tissues conspicuously placed on the kitchen table.

“I have a disease called cancer.  The doctors are doing everything they can to make me well,” Patti said hopefully.  “Daddy’s going to take you to school until I get better, OK?”

The room grew deathly quiet.  Fourteen year old Quincy spoke first.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said.  “We’re going to need some extra money for Mom’s medicine and stuff.  If I could borrow our battery operated hair clippers, I could go door-to-door in the neighborhood and let people shave a part of my head for a small donation.  Dad, do you think a $100 goal would be too much?

“It’s a great idea son, but don’t get your hopes up.”

So when he came back home two hours later with a completely bald head and $725, Daren got down on his knees for the first time in a long while, and thanked God.  He knew now that he had the strength to get through this too.  A lesson learned from his teenage son.

Dear Jesus, You gave us children to humble and teach us.  They’re genuine; seldom truly mean or arrogant.  They know about love and showing their feelings.  They take joy from their triumphs.  In grownups – we call that wisdom.   Thank You!

Decision Day

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. ~ Matthew 5:9

He flipped the page on his datebook; already 1947.  Time passes much too quickly the Minister thought.  Only a century earlier his Methodist church had been a part of the “underground railroad,” a secretive network that helped slaves escape northward.  He wished he’d have been part of that history.

A light knock on the door broke his concentration.  “Please come in,” he encouraged.

In stepped a cigar-chomping, deeply religious parishioner.  “Don’t let me interrupt, I can’t talk with you now,” the visitor said as he stepped forward.  “I just need to be here.  Hope you don’t mind.”

 “Of course not,” offered the Minister.  “Please, be my guest!”  He knew this man of course.  A multi-faceted character, he was part executive, crusader, innovator, horse-trader, friend, husband, father, and grandfather.

The two men passed the time without speaking.  The Minister worked on Sunday’s sermon, wondering silently if his guest was on the verge of a shocking confession. 

For nearly an hour the visitor paced nervously, stopping fitfully to peer out the window on the Brooklyn Heights neighborhood that surrounded the church.  Finally he broke the silence.  “I’ve got it,” he shouted, pounding triumphantly on Pastor’s desk.

“Got what?” asked the confused Pastor. 

“Wendell,” the man said, “I’ve decided to sign Jackie Robinson.”  With that, the man known as Branch Ritkey sank into a soft chair and continued.

“This decision so complex, so important, fraught with so many pitfalls but filled with so much good, that I just had to work it out here.  I needed God’s grace and be sure what He wanted me to do.” he confided. 

Rickey donned his worn hat, straightened his bowtie then left the room.  Later he signed the legendary Jackie Robinson, thus breaking baseball’s color barrier forever. 

The rest as they say is history.  Hollywood recently captured part of the story entitled “42.”  But they missed a critical component – the importance of faith in making important decisions.

Rickey knew that the first black player to cross the big league’s “color barrier” would be subjected to intense public scrutiny.  The player would have to be more than a talented athlete to succeed; he’d have to be a man of indelible faith who could resist the temptation to retaliate.  Robinson, a man of profound faith and moral conviction was just the man.

Rickey also knew it was his destiny to integrate baseball.  “It was God’s will,” he’d tell reporters later, a promise made that day in the office of his Pastor, Wendell Fifield.  “Resist not evil” from the Sermon on the Mount reminds us that resisting evil is not a cowardly act – but an extremely heroic one.  Love conquers all!

Loving Father, You told us to “be anxious for nothing . . . My peace will guard our hearts.”  Be with us and guide us with all we do, with all decisions we face, with every person we encounter.  Pour your divine peach on us Lord, Amen.

Nearly Vanished

“Forgive, and you will be forgiven." ~ Luke 6:37

She scribbled a note and set it on the table.  It contained only eight words, but that was enough:  “I’m running away – don’t look for me.”  She left home not knowing where she was headed; didn’t know how she’d survive or who she’d meet, but didn’t care.  At 14, Marin was free and that’s all that mattered.

Living in the poorest of slums, Marin ached to see the world.  Disillusioned with a life of dirt floors, few possessions, and cruel hunger, she dreamed of a better life in the city.  

No matter how she’d tried to sleep, the hard floor hurt her bones and scratched her skin; never mind the bugs and rodents that preyed on young flesh.  Abysmal didn’t nearly describe the water quality, especially at the bottom of the barrio’s drainage ditch.

Sometimes she wouldn’t eat for days, saving what few scraps the family managed for your younger siblings just to keep them quiet - she hated the desperate sound of hungry children.

Knowing what life on the streets would be like for her beautiful, young daughter, Marin’s mother Livia hurriedly packed to go find her.  Before leaving her small village, Livia stopped at the store for one last thing - pictures.  She sat in the photo booth, closed the curtain, and spent almost all she had on pictures . . . of herself.  With a purse full of B&W photos, she boarded the bus to San Jose.

Marin had no money but Livia knew her daughter was too stubborn to quit.  When pride meets hunger, a human will do unthinkable acts for food.

Livia searched bars, hotels, any place with the reputation for street walkers.  She taped her picture on bathroom mirrors, hotel bulletin boards, and random utility poles.  The back of each photo contained a brief note.

It wasn't long before both money and pictures ran out.  Livia wept as she boarded the bus for her long journey back to La Carpio. 

Weeks later, Marin descended the hotel stairs.  Her face looked tired.  Brown eyes no longer sparkled of youth . . . but of fear and pain.  Her dream had become a nightmare.  Oh how she longed to trade these “empty” beds for her mother’s dirt floor.  Yet the little village was in many ways, miles and sins behind her.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes noted something familiar.  She looked again, and there on the lobby mirror was a small picture of her Mom.  Marin’s throat tightened as she raced across the room, removed the small photo, and read its compelling invitation:

"Whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve become - it doesn't matter.  Please come home!"

Marin caught the next bus.  

Lord - How do you do it?  How to you constantly forgive us when we screw up and hurt You?  Grant me the strength to forgive; I don't want to live with the burden of anger and hatred any longer.  Help me Lord, forgive everyone in my life.  Amen.

Heart Revival

“We make our own path, but the Lord guides our steps." ~ Proverbs 16:9

Ed was watching TV when he felt something near his heart.  At first it was dull and painless, but it quickly grew into something like an elephant sitting on his chest.  Then a tiny electric current traveled down his left arm and his fingers went numb.

He knew immediately what was happening – he just couldn't believe it!  I'm having a heart attack, he thought.  He was perfectly healthy the last time he saw his doctor.  When was that—three or four years ago?  Soaking wet now and too weak to stand, Ed crawled to the kitchen and dialed 911 just before he lost consciousness. 

The next morning a hospital nurse explained that he had "coded".  In ER-speak, that means his heart had stopped and emergency workers resuscitated him.  He was lucky; God wasn’t ready for him yet. 

Now three weeks later, Ed paced nervously for the results of his latest stress test.  His heart fluttered as an unremarkable, 50-something cardiologist entered the room. 

“So Ed,” the Dr. began casually.  “How was your heart attack?

That seemed like an odd way to begin a conversation, but Ed replied, "It scared me to death, almost!  I never want to experience that again.”  By virtue of his profession, it seemed to Ed that the Dr. should have more insight into matters of the heart.

“Hmm!” mumbled the Dr. as he scribbled notes on Ed’s medical record.  "Does your life mean more to you than it did before?" he questioned.

"Well, yes," Ed replied thoughtfully.  “Sharon and I’ve had a wonderful marriage, but now we’re closer than ever?"

“I see,” the Doc grunted without glancing up from his clipboard.  "Do you have more empathy, a deeper understanding and compassion for others?"

"I believe so," Ed replied.  “I never realized how important my friends were and how valuable they became during my recovery.”

The Dr. looked up, his eyes burrowing into Ed’s soul.  "Do you know the Lord in richer fellowship than you ever believed possible?"

"Yes!" Ed said softly.  “I have a new appreciation for God’s plan.  ‘Thy will be done’ adds a profound purpose to my life!”

"How did you like your heart attack?" the Dr. asked finally. 

Silence was Ed’s answer.

In every situation we have been given the free will to choose our response.  We can choose to be worried, conflicted, confused . . . or we can react with confidence, trust, and peace of mind.  Every moment allows us the chance to begin anew.  Knowing that we have the opportunity to respond in any way we choose, shows the absolute power of free will.

Breathe on me, breath of God, fill me with life anew, that I may love what Thou dost love, and do what Thou wouldst do.  Breathe on me, breath of God, until my heart is pure, until with Thee I will one will, to do and to endure. ~ Edwin Hatch 1878