Listen to Us, for God's Sake.

She Is Called by Half the Church

Noah Dog Saga Continues

I just have to record for history the latest in the Noah dog saga. Back in September, two little dogs showed up loose at my friend Melinda's house. They kept breaking IN to her backyard to make themselves at home. Since she didn't want these dogs but found them pretty cute, she told me about them the next day at work. In a moment of insanity, I called my husband, who happened to be in town that day, and caused him a mild heart episode by suggesting we go look at the dogs. (I know what you're thinking. She's lost it.)

Finding the two female Jack-Russellish terriers pretty darned cute, we took them home for a trial run and for a waiting period to see if their owners were looking for them in Melinda's neighborhood. Three weeks later Maggie (on the right) and Molly (on the left) are right at home with us, and we start noticing Maggie's "nursies" growing large. A week or so later, we're off to the vet for a pregnancy test. Yeah, positive. Babydaddy and time of conception both unknown. Two foster dogs are becoming 2-10 foster dogs. Oops.

November begins with Maggie looking like a miniature goat. Miserable. Clingy. But still sweet-natured and affectionate. What a good girl. We were in a state of "any day now." On Veteran's Day, 11/11, the kids and I came home after school to let the dogs out and Kimmi came running to inform me there was already a puppy out. I ran in to find one perfect-looking little black and white puppy. But she was not alive. I tried jiggling, massaging, a little mouth to nose CPR. Nothing worked. Maggie looked scared to death. The kids were panicking. I was trying to remain calm. Thank goodness my husband was in town and was soon coming in the door.

We decided to let Maggie go for a potty walk in the backyard, but while out there she started dropping pup #2. I coerced her back inside. (Honestly, I needed this to be more controllable.) She was all over the place. This puppy was delivered--all but it's not so little head. Oh, yeah. I tugged. John tugged. It wasn't budging. I looked at John and said, "Can we go to the vet? This isn't working." So all four of us jump in the van. Kimmi holding the dead puppy (my brave girl), John opening all the doors and holding towels and purses, and my husband with Maggie and the stuck puppy in his arms. Then it was one long shot down Race all the way to Wadley's. I wish I had video footage of me driving the stretch between the hospital and the vet. Seems I should've been an Indy500 driver.

(Sorry. This is taking forever.)

Anyway, poor Maggie got taken back and sedated a little. Then we heard her yelping like crazy. Seems the vet had a hard time getting the pup's head out. And it wasn't still alive at that point. The nurses said they were pretty sure that it was a large dog that hooked up with Maggie. She only weighed 12 lbs. when she was at least three weeks pregnant. So she's not a large dog.

So with that trauma behind us, we quickly decided on a c-section/sterilization procedure, shed a few tears for the two lost pups, and hoped for the best. About thirty minutes later the nurses told us Maggie had one last pup, a girl, who was alive and squawking like a bird. Yay!!!! The kids were SO excited, and so were John and I.

After John paid the bill (which I apparently will never be allowed to see), we headed home. It was about 6 p.m. It's surprising how exhausted two and a half hours of traumatic dog birthing can make a person. But here I sit, not even 24 hours later, with a sweet mom and pup and think it's all pretty sweet.

As for the puppy, I can't see wanting to have THREE dogs, but I've been asked not to talk about giving her away quite yet. We're going to let the kids enjoy their puppy for a few weeks. And she sure won't lack for sustenance. It looks like Maggie has enough milk for ten pups, so I think our little girl has a good shot of making it.

Going behind the veil.

I made a mistake a while back when I publicly released the address to my personal blog. I should have known that there are those out there who just like to gather info on people to use as ammo to fire back at them one day. It is because of that that I am going to unpublish my blog for a while. I'll be back one day.

To my friends and family members who have read and commented with love and encouragement (and sometimes with a challenge), I love you and appreciate you so very much.

Keep in touch by email. I'd say by Facebook as well, but it might just be a matter of time until I abandon that as well. The world is hard enough without having everyone in my local community judging me based on my candor.

Thanks for the memories!

Lara

The Theology of Don Williams

I heard this song tonight on the way home from Cabot. I got to drive home alone and just scanned channels for thirty minutes. This song brought back memories of summer trips to Tennessee as a kid. What I didn't remember is Don Williams' take on God. I kind of like it.

Well, I don't believe that Heaven waits
for only those who congregate.
I'd like to think that God is love.
He's down below;
he's up above.
He's watchin' people everywhere.
He knows who does and doesn't care.
And I'm an ordinary man.
Sometimes I wonder who I am,
but I believe in love.
I believe in music.
I believe in Mom and Dad,
and I believe in you.

Confessions of a Gender Justice Freak

This is a retake of a Facebook note I wrote the other day. I wish I had started the discussion here because I've had so many old friends come out of the "woodwork" to offer their support and encouragement. Probably all I'll get here is criticism. But I wanted to post it here on my blog for my own record.

Below is an excerpt from article written by former President Jimmy Carter. But the full article is a must-read. I encourage you to read that first for the context for my thoughts after the excerpt below.

.............................
"There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." (Galatians 3:28)

I have been a practising Christian all my life and a deacon and Bible teacher for many years. My faith is a source of strength and comfort to me, as religious beliefs are to hundreds of millions of people around the world.

So my decision to sever my ties with the Southern Baptist Convention, after six decades, was painful and difficult. It was, however, an unavoidable decision when th e convention's leaders, quoting a few carefully selected Bible verses and claiming that Eve was created second to Adam and was responsible for original sin, ordained that women must be "subservient" to their husbands and prohibited from serving as deacons, pastors or chaplains in the military service. This was in conflict with my belief - confirmed in the holy scriptures - that we are all equal in the eyes of God.

This view that women are somehow inferior to men is not restricted to one religion or belief. It is widespread. Women are prevented from playing a full and equal role in many faiths. (end excerpt)
..............................

Finally, a man I respect, Jimmy Carter, a man after God's own heart, says something that jives with feelings I've had all my life. Feelings that I now believe are from God. I have felt these things in a very deep place all my life. I have never (and I say never VERY strongly) been able to shake the feeling/belief from deep within my soul that "church" has been getting this wrong all my life. I think that's why I was a "justice freak" kid (though that sounds much hipper than "bossy" did then). I just wanted things fair. I wanted rules followed. I had opinions...beliefs. And I wanted to be heard. Okay, I also wanted to be right, but more importantly I wanted THE right to my opinion and the right to share it with whomever I chose.

Let me share a piece of my childhood with you. When I was a teenager, the Church of Christ I attended had no formal youth group. We hung out with each other after church on Sunday nights and mostly went to watch R-rated movies and hang out in the parking lot afterwards. But there was an older, single guy who kind of gumped his way into being our mentor of sorts, and sometimes he even helped us make better decisions. I started thinking that if we only had a formal youth group and youth minister, perhaps we could be guided into more spiritual endeavors. (Yeah, I was that kid. But I still wanted to work within the "system" at that point in my life.)

So I thought, hey, why not see if anyone else feels like this? So I just started a little survey/petition to see if there was an actual need or interest in starting a youth group. Well, that's what I get for thinking. Soon enough an elder found out about it (not that I was hiding it from them) and took it out of circulation for me. So at 16 yrs old or so, I was summoned to the preacher's office after church (without my parents present or consulted) to find our three elders sitting there (them sitting, me standing) ready to set me right. I was first interrogated then told, in no uncertain terms, that the survey was over. I was to let them handle church matters. How dare I think I had the authority to do such a thing? And I'm pretty sure I remember (though I've been quite successful at suppressing painful memories) they laughed at me when I tried to defend my opinion and the petition. It was a scoff really. I know, scoffed? Surely not. But that's exactly how I felt--scoffed at. Like why did a teenager, much less a GIRL, think she had the right to express an opinion on a church/religious matter?!

I left that office feeling violated by those elders and mocked by God. For a girl with the aforementioned early-onset justice issues, this was...well, UNjust. I left feeling distraught, demoralized, angry, hurt and went home just wanting to die. I can't even remember talking to my parents about it.

That event left such deep wounds in me that the scars have never gone away. But I thank God for Mr. Carter's article because it's a salve to my soul. A salve to a hurt little girl's soul. Salve to a woman's soul who seldom gets to see someone like her in the front of her auditorium full of believers. Who never gets to hear a woman pray in her public worship assembly. Who rarely hears a girl's voice reading the Word of God. Who gets excluded BEFORE the Holy Spirit is is publicly invoked to guide people to come forward and lead a prayer or share a thought. Who's never asked to lead a prayer in Bible class, praise team practice, small group, etc. A woman who keeps being called a "man" and a "son of God" over and over and over until SHE wants to scream.

The reason why this article has been so healing for me is that it was written by a man. It's nothing that many women haven't been saying for years. But if change is ever going to happen in the Churches of Christ, it will need to be helped along by the current leadership. And we all know who that is. Because of that, I'm so thankful for a small handful of men who have dared to let me whisper these feelings over the last few years, because there are so many more who don't get it at all. Who think my thoughts are from Satan himself. Who don't realize that the NIV is unnecessarily man-centered and therefore verbally excludes women far too often. Who don't realize what decades of male omnipresence in worship assemblies has done subconsciously to the spiritual lives and psyches of multitudes of women. Who don't realize that hearing a woman pray is beautiful and needed. Who think that I'm just trying to usurp their authority by thinking it would be okay for my daughter to pass a communion tray. And the list goes on and on. So thank God for those few men who have allowed me the freedom to read a scripture or share a testimony from "behind the mic." They'll probably never realize how much that meant to me.

So I just wanted to share this in case there's another girl or woman out there who thinks she's second rate in God's eyes. (And don't give me the whole different but equal crap. It rings hollow, and you know it.) You, we, are not second rate. We shouldn't be treated as the "seen and not heards" of the church world. I don't care what some man wrote to one specific church like a billion and a half years ago. God loves us all the same and calls us all to the same calling. When I die I want Galatians 3:28 on my grave marker. (My girlfriends will see to it, won't you?)

So thank you, Mr. Carter, from the bottom of this woman's heart.

Summer Update

John & Kimmi's great-grandparents, my mom and aunt, five cousins, two aunts, and the Valentines, dear friends of ours, all came out to watch John's team, the Zaxby's Bullets, win the big championship tournament baseball game last Friday night. It was off-the-charts exciting! John scored one run and got some teammates around the bases during his other times at bat. We were up 7/1 in the first inning, and I guess we got a little too proud a little too quickly. By the 3rd or 4th inning, they'd fallen behind 11 to 4. But they got their heads back on enough to tie it up at 11/11. And by the end of the 6th, everyone was cheered out, sweaty, and exhausted when the clock hit :00 and the score was 17 to 12. They'd won!!

So the boys in blue won the big team trophy Friday night, and then Saturday for lunch they had a party at Zaxby's where the whole team got free food and trophies. We couldn't have asked for better coaches and teammates for his first (of many to come) round of baseball. They were so positive and encouraging to John as he learned everything from scratch. John told me Friday night that he wants to play forever and go to the major leagues. Wow! I was just impressed he knew the phrase "major leagues." God is good! Now John's looking forward to camp with Tristan at the end of July!

Even though we came home late from VBS last night (Holy Organized Chaos, Batman!), Kimmi wanted to her "cuddle" time. I love that she asks when she's feeling needy. She was so precious. By the way, she's really starting the transition to teen in many ways. But she told me this weekend that even though we sometimes make each other mad, she still loves me and that I'm her favorite mommy. You can't buy that in the American Girl Doll store.

Yesterday she helped me make some chopped turkey salad for Dad's lunches this week. She's getting so big. I had a sweet time chopping and dicing with my little girl. I even taught her how to bring new life to nearly dead celery. She makes me want to be a better person.

We are SO blessed to be their parents!

Radio Warning

Every now and then (like during pledge drives on my favorite radio stations), I'll turn the dial to listen to a country music station. Then as I'm bee-bopping down the road humming a new tune, I hear...

Those daaarrk eyes blah blah blah...
And I flied in spite of the danger.

Flied? Really? You flied?

I think you see my problem.