Old Wood

Dusty violin
leans against the dry, cracked pine
     of a windowsill.

Outside, a field;
grasses yellow and heavy
brush the roughness
     of a small, darkening cross.

Sunlight
rolls down from distant hills,
stretching long shadows behind,
and pushes through streaked glass
     to smear itself on the unkempt
          oak floor.

Bowed cane,
reaching up against the arm
     of an unvarnished chair,
held limply
       in his withered hand.

-GSKaurin, 1989 

Knowing When - a tribute to my canine friend

I finally went for a short jog this morning. My thoughts were on Katy. This was the first run that I didn't have the option to ask her if she wanted to go for at least part of it. I missed her padding beside me, with her steady gate and eyes focused on the path ahead.

As with most dogs, when we went for walks the world was one wonderful smell after another: tufts of weed, bushes, trees, etc. Running, however, was serious business for Kate. Once we hit a jogging pace, the greyhound-husky blood took over. Her ears (which she normally held in an asymmetrical half-flop, half-cock) would both fold backward against her head as she pointed her nose forward.

She was calm, zen-like, most of the time and rarely barked, except perhaps to tell me to "throw the dang frisbee, already!" I recall the one time that she bared her teeth in fear or aggression. In Auburn, we had an office off our garage with a large window overlooking the back yard. While my wife was concentrating on her computer screen with her back to me, I slowly crept up to that window from the outside to startle her. Katy was also in the office, and she watched my approach, but the sun was behind me; she could neither see nor smell exactly who was creeping up. That was when this dog, who is usually so friendly toward all strangers and animals, became one of her wolfish ancestors with bared teeth, bristling hair, and deep-throated growls. She prepared to launch herself through the plate glass and into me. In a panic, I shouted, "No, Kate!" Immediately, her pose relaxed, her tongue dropped out in a friendly grin, and her hackles slowly settled. As frightening as that moment was, I was glad to learn that she was more than a happy-go-lucky dog, and that, if necessary, she could defend...ferociously.


This last month with advice from her vet, we tried a few reasonable treatments to reverse or slow the tumor, but it was aggressive and growing rapidly. She had dropped from her healthy 57 lbs. down to 40. On Friday morning, her last day, I pulled on my trail shoes, and we went for a walk through the woods at Point Defiance Park. She sniffed happily, sometimes walking ahead, or following behind. Twice she broke into an easy trot; her collar and tag jangled loosely from her neck.  In spite of her obvious and growing discomfort, I was glad she had one last hike. That night in the vet's office, while her people gathered to pet her long nose and smooth her soft ears, she was euthanized, and drifted from our lives.


This afternoon, I thought of Katy again as I looked at Matthew 5:5. Jesus said that the "meek" are blessed and that they will "inherit the earth." Meek is not a great English word for the original Greek adjective, praos. "Meek" usually suggests a mousey weakness, a complete lack of assertiveness. In his dictionary for the New Testament, W.E. Vine wrote, "It must be clearly understood, therefore, that the meekness manifested by the Lord and commended to the believer is the fruit of power."

I once heard that this kind of "meekness" was prized in combat horses. They were calm both outside of and in the midst of battle, but could immediately leap, break into a run, or strike with the hoof when needed. In describing a good soldier, "meek" is not normally the first virtue that comes to mind.

"The meekness manifested by the Lord and commended to the believer is the fruit of power."

One of my preaching mentors said that meekness in the Bible is not being "milk-toast," but it is "knowing when." Meekness knows when to be sad or angry, when to speak and especially when to remain quiet, all this usually for the sake of others. Meekness seems to be a kind of wisdom. Add this to Vine's thought that it is a fruit of power. From where does this power and wisdom come? It seems to come from a sense of trust and faith: You are okay. You are in good hands now and ultimately. Your interests and concerns turn outward to others. It doesn't mean that you are ignorant or unprepared, or that you are a doormat, but that you have a larger sense of priority. You know when to respond with patience or power.

Here's what I hope I have learned from my dear canine friend, Katy. She lived this. She was generally quiet and happy, patient with cats and kids, as well as other dogs. She also let them know, with just enough bark, when they they were being overly aggressive or eating from the wrong dish. She knew when it was time to play and when to wait quietly. Some of my most calm spiritual moments involve watching Katy as she sat serenely in sunshine.


Thank you, Katy. Farewell, my running companion and coach, trail blazer, teacher. I pray that you have inherited the earth with all its glorious smells!

The Measure of Worth

"He had been wrong in thinking that successes alone were the measure of his worth in the Word's service. He had been wrong in fleeing his mistakes as if they marked him a failure. It was not as simple as that. All men and women experienced successes and failures, and their tally at death was not necessarily determinative of one's worth in life. This was true, as well, for a Knight of the Word. It was trying that mattered more. It was the giving of effort and heart that lent value." - in A Knight of the Word, ch. 25, by Terry Brooks

What You Will...

Today is the 12th Day of Christmas, and I feel like beating on my drum for a little while: in joy, celebration, and gratitude.

I played cars and trucks on the floor with our five-year-old, and later Yatzee with his older brother. All the while, I listened to Pauline entertaining and gossiping with our dinner guests. From those college days as she and I kept each other awake for all-night study binges, to these days as tag-team-parents, I am incredibly grateful for my intelligent and bold wife. I also cherish that she has a soft, squishy side that few people get to see and hold! It gets bumpy for us, like anyone else, so I'm grateful for her forgiveness and dedication, and the help we receive. What a fun family; it's more difficult and amazing than I ever imagined!

This evening we sat at dinner with a couple who knew us before we had kids. They were loving and helpful when we first moved to the area. Then, having adopted interacially some 30+ years before we did, they were there to share their care and support.  Now, they are grandparents of a beloved adopted child. This couple reminds me of the other couples who have shared bread, lives, and love as we have all walked the path of infertility, grief, and adoption. Thank you, Lord, for bringing us together!

I am also deeply grateful for the pastors of Auburn, Washington who gather each month with the primary goal of mutual encouragement and prayer. I'm sure that there are communities or cities that bring together groups like ours. I pray that they are even more common than I suspect. I wish my own congregation members, and all the others in town, were fully aware of all the pastors who are praying for them! It is a great gift to have a fellowship of pastors that wants the best for each other's ministry, rather than competing with each other to be the best show in town.

And I love my work! This past week, the over-riding theme was stepping back from the drive to achieve or succeed. It seemed every meeting, every counseling session, and every conversation came back to our needs for relationship and walking together, or process versus results. I have conducted well-over 200 funerals, and many, many baptisms and weddings. I get to be with people during the most significant, deep, stressful and shaping moments of their lives! At Christmas and Easter, pastors can be frustrated and cynical about the people that show up once/twice each year. This year, I was deeply moved and grateful to see them. Yep, I'm still here. More important, God is still here, friends. His faithfulness never ends!

Thank you, God, for my church, my work, friends and family!