Dear Phoebe,
You’re just a dog, but I love you like a child, like the sister I never had. I don’t know how much longer we’ll have you in our family, but every day is precious.
You came to us by chance. Your first owner committed suicide; abandonment was a traumatic loss for you. Perhaps you sought reassurance with us. When you came to us, you watched us constantly; you followed us everywhere with your eyes. You still want to be near us. When we walk, you walk with us; when we sit, you curl up on the floor near our feet. You never wander off.
When you were younger, you wanted to sleep with us too. We’d feel the thump at the bottom of the bed, and then you turned around and around to stomp out your burrow between our feet. In the morning, you wriggled the length of the bed on your belly and elbows, until you could park your head on the pillows between us.
Then, with a deep sigh, you went back to sleep.
Even if we couldn’t.
You don’t jump up onto the bed anymore. Your joints hurt; your muscles aren’t as strong.
I know how that feels too.
I think you still fear being abandoned. When we fuss around, gathering clothes and toys, you know someone is going away. But you don’t know who, or where, or for how long. So you pad around behind us, keeping as close as possible, until we fall over you. Then we speak sharply to you, and you wonder why.
We do that to each other, too.
And when we come home, you become happiness incarnate in fur and flesh. Your tail wags in circles; you bounce; you try to lick our faces.
How do you know that humans reveal their character in their faces? Our faces are not like yours. Yet you stare instinctively at these flattened features of ours to fathom our moods. You even copy us. You frown when you’re worried; you smile when you’re happy.
Dog snouts do not lend themselves to smiling. But you smile. Some people think you’re being aggressive, showing your teeth; they couldn’t be more wrong.
You not only want to be with us, you want to be like us. You could offer us no greater compliment.
Not that you’re perfect. You roll in the most appalling stuff. And you’ll eat anything-- even pot roast for our dinner left out on the counter.
But we aren’t perfect either.
You don’t understand a word I’m saying to you. Still you raise your head off the floor and gaze at me with your soft olive-brown eyes, and I sense that you want to respond to whatever it is that I’m saying, even if you don’t know what that is.
You are unconditional love personified. All right, doggified. We humans rarely achieve that kind of love. We think it’s impossible, beyond us, something for God alone. But you live it, every day.
Perhaps it’s not necessary to understand each other fully. Maybe all that’s necessary is to love.
Maybe that’s enough. For you, and for us.
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Copyright © 2016 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.
To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca
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YOUR TURN
I sent out my version of Genesis revisited with some trepidation, but so far every response has been favourable.
Peter Scott wrote, “Loved your creation story, but the first line made me realize that my limited human brain can't even begin to comprehend or even imagine ‘nothing’. Go figure.”
Don Nazrude called it, “a thoughtful and inspiring way to write about the creation story. I have often thought of my body as trapped light from stardust and also consider my spirit as light. Where I lack the words I can almost sense the light in you. We are to be co-creators as you and so many others have written. So you have helped me on my journey…”
Ted Spencer suggested that “If we, as post-modern Christians, took that column as our working paradigm, we’d have something to offer those with us now, and those to follow us. This is a beautiful Statement Of Faith. Thank you.”
Sandy Warren: “VERY interesting creation narrative! One of the ways to read this is that God could be the collective of al of creation -- all of the energy and perhaps the distillation of all the good that has ever been? This would mean that God is ever growing? I've long thought that the traditional concept of God is way too limited and anthropomorphic, but it's hard to envision how to expand on it. Your column provides a new perspective!”
Frieda Hogg had a short comment: “May I suggest that evolution is God's way of Creation?”
Caroline Davidson drew attention to the program on B.C.’s Knowledge Network of Dr. Brian Cox' work, ‘Wonders of Life’ Tuesdays at 8:00 p.m. Caroline wrote, “I put everything else aside to watch this show. I learned that we all -- including lions, birds, humans and whales -- have some of the same letters of our DNA: A,C,T, and G. This is a wonderful world.”
Charles Hill wrote, “I am reading an interesting book. ‘The Case for a Creator’, by Lee Strobel. Zondervan Press. I think that it would stimulate thoughts and questions.”
Doreen Beaton admitted that she had been “wanting to write about your Creation column Aug. 24., but can't quite get my thoughts together. I feel your theory is the best yet, but must admit I still believe, (or need to believe?), that there was/is some ‘Ground of All Being’ there to oversee the formation of that original drop of energy, and the timing of all the following events, including somehow preventing our branch of 'intelligent beings' from interfering with/endangering 'what is to be'.”
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PSALM PARAPHRASES
Oh, my, Psalm 139 for this coming Sunday. An amazing psalm, a wonderful psalm. I’m not sure that any paraphrase can do it justice. Verses 1-6 come from one paraphrase; verses 13-18 from another.
1 I am transparent to you, God.
You can see right through me.
2 I can hide nothing from you.
You read my body language, and detect my deepest feelings.
3 The tiniest quirks of my handwriting reveal everything that's going on inside me.
4 You know what I'm going to say before I've thought it through.
5 I look around at the world, and you are there;
I look within my psyche, and you are there;
Emotion and intellect are one to you.
6 You know me better than I know myself.
I could not stand knowing myself that well--
I need some hidden corners still to discover,
some mysteries still to unfold.
13 No wonder you know me so well, God.
Even before my mother knew I existed,
you wrote the genetic code of my cells.
14 You created my life.
15 Wombs and worlds are one to you;
they have no secrets from you;
you are the essence of all life.
16 As once you shaped the cells that formed my fingernails and my hair,
so you still guide me through the events of each day.
17 Even if I am only a fleeting thought flickering through the mind of God, I am in good company.
18 All of creation owes its existence to you, God.
I can no more imagine your thoughts than I can recall every detail of my dreams.
But you are not a dream, for when I wake, you are still with me.
For paraphrases of most of the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalms from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.
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YOU SCRATCH MY BACK…
Ralph Milton has a new project, called Sing Hallelujah -- the world’s first video hymnal. It consists of 100 popular hymns, both new and old, on five DVDs that can be played using a standard DVD player and TV screen, for use in congregations who lack skilled musicians to play piano or organ. More details at www.singhallelujah.ca
Isabel Gibson's thoughtful and well-written blog, www.traditionaliconoclast.com
Wayne Irwin's "Churchweb Canada," an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. <http://www.churchwebcanada.ca>
Alva Wood's satiric stories about incompetent bureaucrats and prejudiced attitudes in a small town are not particularly religious, but they are fun; write alvawood@gmail.com to get onto her mailing list.
Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” – ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at twatson@sentex.net
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TECHNICAL STUFF
If you want to comment on something, send a message directly to me, jimt@quixotic.ca.
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You can access years of archived columns at http://edges.Canadahomepage.net.
I write a second column each Sunday called Sharp Edges, which tends to be somewhat more cutting about social and justice issues. To sign up for Sharp Edges, write to me directly, jimt@quixotic.ca, or send a note to sharpedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca
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