Hi, My Name is John

She lied to me.  She stood right there in front of me and lied.  When I warned her she better tell the truth or I’d have to give her consequences, she looked me in the eye . . . and lied.  And I wanted to cry.

There are so many times as a parent that I feel ineffective.  No matter the consequence, no matter the number of times we address the issue, there are just some places in my child’s heart that I can not seem to reach.  As my daughter quickly reaches her teenage years, those unreachable places seem more and more out of grasp.

Against Unknown Odds

My 11 year old is a compulsive gambler.

Recently, my daughter AllyLu has been wanting to stretch her pre-teen wings.  She has decided, in all her wisdom, that she is mature enough to handle scary movies.  Up to this point, we have kept her fairly sheltered from viewing frightening images.  As you’ll see, we did so out of necessity.

Less than 2 years ago, she was watching the movie Beethoven (the one about the dog).  Harmless, right?  At one point in the movie, the dog steps on a remote control and turns on the TV.  An old black-and-white werewolf movie pops into view.  You know the kind, when the costuming and special-effects seems more comical than fearsome.  The whole scene lasts less than 30 seconds before the dog steps on the remote again and the TV blips off.

She had nightmares about werewolves for months.

Freedom from Fear

There are dog families and there are cat families. We are a dog family, no question.

We currently have a maltese-poodle mix. In Luby-Lu world, he is Buddy-Boo, more than a pet – a beloved part of our family. By human standards, he is a spoiled baby and by doggie standards . . . he’s pretty much a spoiled baby, too.

But this story isn’t about him. It’s about his friend, Lizzie-Lu. Lizzie-Lu belongs to a family, friends of ours, that adopted her from a shelter when she was about 1 year old. Her poodle ancestry is evident both in her features and her demeanor – energetic, intellegent, vocal, and high-strung. But, I believe, her early upbringing may have created some characteristics that work against her.

My Christening . . . into Virtual Non-Reality

Me?  Write?  Write what?  No doubt, this writing endeavor is a more than daunting task to me.  I realize that may be surprising to some.  Anyone who knows me very well (OK, OK, at all) knows I certainly have an abundance to say.  But, I have to admit, most of that is just auditory surplus.  It has been rumored that my verbal onslaught is the inevitable outcome of the necessary air flow needed to keep my trachea from collapsing, preventing eminent suffocation.  No doctor has given a final diagnosis.

Other poor souls believe that what I have to say is worthwhile digesting, that somewhere in the constant dribble is a valuable nugget.  I’ve never completely understood this particular phenomenon.  I can only attribute it to our gracious Maker using a seriously cracked pot of clay to get His message heard.  Why?  I can not say.  But, again, this is in the land of auditory expression — words meeting ears, eliciting a comment, a question, a nod or, at minimum, a puzzled expression.  All of which are conversely received by me as a sort of return on investment.

Back and forth, to and fro.  Some call it relationship . . . and it’s the food my spirit lives on.  It’s a living volley between two people with conversation at the center.  How I enjoy the game.  But written words?  Those have a life unto themselves.  They can outreach and outlive relationship.  They extend beyond the confines of a two-person volley; and, in our electronic generation, can roam over distance, time, and language.  Will anyone be there to guide them?  Who will gauge the response?  What return on investment will find it’s way back?  Will it loose it’s way on the journey home?  The written word is an independent and apathetic comrade. I am fearful to take him in.

Yet, I am oh-too-clear on the calling.  And, therefore, I am compelled to move forward.  Consequently, I choose to entrust this process to One who knows the beginning from the end – in word and in matter.  It is He who has brought me to the task and it is He who will guide and gauge.  May my efforts bring a blessing to those in its path; but, above all, may it bring glory to to the One who created word and relationship.  It is the Lord alone that my soul needs to survive and His response alone I crave.