Making Allowances ~

It’s an old joke: patient says to the doctor, “Doc, it hurts when I do that.” Doc says to the patient, “well, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do that” makes a lot of sense sometimes. Why would we do what we know might hurt?

Vulnerability, exposure, a keen awareness of need, these aren’t the things we are naturally inclined to give ourselves over to.

This Lenten season, these are the very things I am choosing. In seeking to reflect on Christ’s sufferings and hold a mirror up to my own heart as we experience these days before Holy Week, I considered that my best practice would be to make some allowances… allow for vulnerability, allow for exposure, allow for need.

It’s not that these things aren’t present in my life, in all our lives. They are ever present in a broken and waiting world. But it takes some intentionality to see weakness and frailty with their noses pressed against the glass, and to open the door and say, “ok, you can come in.”

We get awfully skilled at keeping our guard up.

I stood outside Buckingham Palace a few years ago, peering through the iron gates with my touristy binoculars for the lightest twitch, the tiniest breath, the slightest budge from the Palace Guard. My hands and eyes got tired after awhile, and eventually, I walked away. I’ve suspected at times that some fuzzy-hatted soldiers keep watch outside my heart, not twitching, not breathing, not budging. And why would they? They are simply following my orders, to guard my heart, to keep me safe, secure, and out of harm’s way.

As Rev. Jennifer reminded us at St. Luke's a few Sundays ago, the Bible tells us not to be afraid so many times because God knows it can be scary out there, He knows that sometimes we do feel afraid.

So, trusting His “knowing”, I am trying to live these Lenten weeks with my guard down, with my sentries dismissed. I am making some allowances:

I am allowing for vulnerability… this came in a difficult conversation with one of my sisters, a talk we both needed, but one that left us both feeling a bit bruised for a few days. Telling the truth, hearing the truth, instead of relying on our mousiest “oh, it’s fine”, or our squeakiest “no worries.” Letting it be okay that everything was not okay.

I am allowing for exposure… I was with a group of people recently, some strangers, some friends, when my large self tangled with a small bench and both of us went crashing to the floor. I wanted to find the nearest door to run through, or at least the nearest rock to crawl under, but instead, I had to allow for a strong hand to help me up, kind eyes to look into mine and scatter the shame that had begun to call me names, I had to allow for gentle voices to assure me that everything was alright.

I am allowing for my need… this came as I rejoined a group of women who can speak truth and hope into a place of weakness for me; a group I had decided I could do without, preferring instead to claw after change and growth without the benefit of community.

These instances could have taken place on any day, in any season. Being ready to welcome them instead of stiff-arm them behind a wall mortared with pride and fear is the difference.

The prophet Jeremiah tells us that God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). I imagine there’s design behind that truth: we are people in need of mercy every day.

What I am experiencing this season is the same truth I experience anytime I let my guard down: Jesus is with me. His sufferings, His own willingness to allow for vulnerability and exposure and need, make Him my true Advocate. As we taste a tiny bit of suffering, we experience that His suffering prepares Him to be with us to repair and comfort, shield, rescue and console. He comes to us at our most exposed, vulnerable and needy, and offers His mercy.

Making allowances can feel a little scary. As the apostle John writes to a group of believers, the love of Christ is a perfect love, a love so perfect it casts out the fear that keeps us from letting our guard down. (I John 4:18)

Perfect Love casts out the fear in me
And sends the darkness to hide
Perfect Love tells me that I have found my refuge at His side
Perfect Love will never leave me, He has promised to abide
And be my Strong and Perfect Love

Making allowances… for vulnerability, for exposure, for need. It’s an open invitation to the true Keeper of our hearts.

Maggie ~

I ended my “petlessness” last Tuesday afternoon. I brought Maggie home.

I’m dog-people, and God bless all the cat -lovers who tried to talk me into coming over to the kitty side of things, I just couldn’t do it. My heart was set on a someday-dog. And someday finally came.

I’ve wanted a dog for the longest time. I just haven’t given myself permission to do it. I live on my own, and, until I convince my boss to implement a bring-your-pets-to-work policy, I knew I’d be leaving someone at home all day, and I let the guilt stall me. I kept deciding that it would just have to be later, that I’d get a dog when my circumstances changed or when I had a different living situation, one that would be less worrisome. But time just kept going by, and, I can’t really explain it, all I know is that toward the end of this past year, I just decided to give myself permission to let it happen. Conversations with friends, seeing the blessing a little dog has been to my mom, allowing little connections with people that contained thoughts of hope. I let little seeds of how this might work be planted instead of pushing them away. I let them out into the light and air so they could sprout a bit. A friend said to me, “Kathy, what are you waiting for?” I couldn’t come up with a good answer anymore. So I let myself start looking.

I saw Maggie’s picture on the Humane Society website last Monday night. She had “possibility” written all over her two year-old, terrier-mix face. When I read her bio, she was described as a little anxious, a little nervous around people she doesn’t know, and in need of a little extra time to build trust. I thought “hmmmm, who does that sound like? Oh yea… me.”

I had already made another commitment for Tuesday morning, so I knew I wouldn’t be free to check into her availability until later. I looked at her sweet little face again, and whispered a little prayer. I asked God to save her for me if she was supposed to be my dog. Later that morning when I made the call, I was told that two other parties had already made appointments to meet her, so I’d need to wait a bit for the outcome. I did what I could to keep my mind off that sweet little mutt with the big brown eyes for a few hours. They called me in the early afternoon, and said if I wanted to come take a look, she was still available. I grabbed my mom and we drove to the pound.

We met in the play-room; we walked around one another and played a bit, getting a feel for it. In no time, I was scratching her belly, she was licking my hand. I looked into her brown eyes and asked her if she’d like to come home with me. When the pet-handler said that Maggie could stand to lose a few pounds, I knew I’d found my dog.

We’re figuring it out as we go along. She does not like the baby-gate that keeps her in the roomy kitchen and dining room while I’m at work. She does like 94% reduced-fat microwave popcorn. She does not like the vacuum. She does like to ride in the car. I’m getting used to having someone underfoot, being stared at and licked. She’s getting used to trusting that I will always come home after work and free her from the baby gate to romp around the house and get all the belly-scratching she wants. I left her to roam the house on Sunday when I went to St. Luke’s. She was on her own until I got back from my Sunday after-church trip to Trader Joe’s to get my groceries for the week. I got home and everything looked fine, no damage done. I made some lunch, left the door open to enjoy the springy-feeling afternoon, worked on my NY Times Sunday Crossword and listened to “A Prairie Home Companion” while Mags chewed on a doggie-treat right beside me. I could get used to this.

I turn on the news every morning while I get ready for work and sip a first cup of coffee. I catch the weather forecast to see how wet or cold it might be as I wait for the bus. This morning I saw the purple and yellow and orange of the sunrise on Clinton Street. I heard the birds chirping in the cherry blossoms that started showing off their pretty-pinks mid-February. I felt the chill of the morning air on my waking-up face.

I was walkin’ my dog.