Puppy Training

We got a new puppy!  We had always been a collie family when our kids were growing up.  We’ve had five collies in all over the years.  We loved their sweet dispositions and the tender care they gave of the children and their friends.  Collies are “herders,” so nothing made them happier than corralling a yard full of children or teen-agers.

As our lives got more complicated though, we decided to not get another dog after we lost our last one, Lord Townsend.  Until now.

With concerts and events cancelled because of Covid-19, and with my decision to travel less and write more, Bill and I decided it was time to get a puppy again, a Cavalier King Charles spaniel.  We learned that this was the favorite breed of Queen Victoria, England’s longest ruling monarch, who was the last of the House of Hanover transitioning into the House of Windsor.  So, we named our puppy Windsor, our transition dog into this new chapter of our lives.  

And what a joy this little guy is! He is sweet and smart like our collies were, but smaller and so easy to train because he so loves to please.  We thought we’d use these months of isolation to teach him, but truth be known, he is teaching us.

He’s teaching us to be consistent and to pay attention to his subtle signals.  He’s teaching us that playing hard is as important as working hard and sleeping well.  He’s reminding us that touching and expressing affection, rewarding and confirming kindnesses are as vital to a relationship as honest confrontation.

And here is the best Windsor-lesson of all!  I accidently stepped on his little toes not realizing he was right under my feet.  Amazingly, as soon as he let out his sharp yelp, he turned and licked my shoe.  He looked up at me as if to say, “I know you didn’t mean it, did you?  We’re still okay, right?” His only response was to forgive and restore our bond.

Wow!  What if that were always my first response to a harsh word, a slight, a hurt?  What if mercy and grace and forgiveness were as natural as the first cry of pain?  What if a healing gesture could rush to fill the moment of conflict?

We thought we were just getting a puppy for the joy of him, but we have gotten a whole lot more, and even at this late date in our relationship, I think Bill and I are loving each other better than ever.  And a puppy shall lead them...

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Spring Is Renewal

Spring is the season of renewal.  Easter is the shedding of all that would hold our spirits down and keep us earthbound; it is the embracing of new life that transcends and ascends.

© Angela Kellogg

Spring is the birthplace of sacraments:  the washing of feet, the breaking of bread, the draining of the cup.  This is the season for pilgrimage:  the preparation of Gethsemane, the gathering in the upper room, the cross-laden journey to Golgotha, the weighty walk to the tomb, the joyful run to “go tell.”

© Angela Kellogg

The process of the seed, fallen, buried in the earth, is spring:  the shedding of protective coverings, the insistent unfolding in the quiet stillness beneath the surface of embryonic beginnings, the pull sunward of sprouting, living things.  A newfound courage to grow, to become—this is spring!

This is the time for resolutions that began this new year/decade to become reality.  This is the time for words to become deeds, for ought-to’s to become habit. 

© Angela Kellogg

In this morning of the year, may the resurrection be more than a day in the ecclesiastical calendar.  Deep in the veins of our souls, may life stir like the blood beginning to move in a man crucified.  May living warmth work its way from the heart to the hands, and may we begin to move as one made alive who was dead!

It’s morning, Lord, and my senses are rested from yesterday’s assault of stimulation. I am aware of the delicious regularness of this day:  the clean, cool sheets against my skin, the fragrant familiarness of this house, the sound of my husband’s much loved body breathing beside me, the white pine branch brushing against the window, the children talking and giggling upstairs in their parents’ childhood rooms.

© Angela Kellogg

Help me to savor the simplicity of today, Lord, to hold each tasty morsel on my tongue and enjoy its gift before I swallow it into the process of my life.

I would live sacramentally.

“This is my body...”

I hold this moment of Your Life and give transforming thanks.  May these simple elements be changed into Your very self as I partake of them.  May the life-blood of this scarlet morning move through my veins making me a part of this day…and of You.

I raise my chalice and toast the dawn.  “Do this in remembrance…”

Prayer 67 from A Book of Simple Prayers by Gloria Gaither, © Gloria Gaither. 2008 Gaither Music Group, Alexandria, Indiana

In the light of the present pandemic, I want to share the attached 4 minute video from our friend Andy Andrews. 

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Art: The Language of the Soul

There are some things we cannot communicate to others or articulate for ourselves by using statements, spreadsheets or ledgers.  Words hammered into manuals, mission statements and creeds fall far short.  There are thoughts so much higher than our thoughts that they must come to us in inklings (they are all our finite minds can hold at one time), and even these droplets from the ocean of truth must come by revelation.

God used art.  He used it way before He carved simple rules on tablets of stone on Mt. Sinai –these were only emergency rescue measures, concessions to the destructive dictates of our small perceptions and fallen inclinations.

But in the beginning was a love song breathed into the formless void so moving that the building blocks of all things filled the void, and from these vibrating sound waves all things began to “live and move and have their being”.  He flung heat and warmth, color and light on the canvas of utter darkness, and, as James Weldon Johnson tried to put into words, he “spangled the night with a thousand stars”.  But, oh, it was much more than that.

With humor, with delicate detail, with intricate precision, He created, not just for the moment but for limitless generations of life to come with built-in safeguards and adaptive potential we are even now only beginning to recognize and appreciate.

Yet all of creation was but a postcard, inviting us to something beyond.  We can only imagine.

There has to be a song.  There has to be inspiration.  There has to be revelation for which we then need metaphors and pictures, drama and music and dance to hint at what we have perceived. 

Some things are eternal not temporal, transcendent not immediate.  Some truths are so immense that they escape even the most sophisticated of measuring sticks and weighing scales the human mind has developed.  Glimpses of these truths overpower our systems.

And so we sing.  We tell stories and write poetry.  We employ the language of symbol.  We dance.  We dramatize for each other the insights too big for our formulas or explanations.  And we believe.  Yes, we believe.

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