Woof

My new life is amazing.  I mean that literally.  I am so often amazed now.  But I have also never been more aware of my gross inadequacy to comprehend.  The metaphor of sheepdog has never felt more apt.

In this new life I am more keenly aware of joys and pains, but I am powerless to understand them.  In the joys I wag uncontrollably so that every fiber trembles with it.  In the pains, I want to help but am not capable.  These paws just won't grasp and I can't understand all the words.  And so I slink down and lay at your feet, unable to do more, but waiting for any sign that I can understand.  At one of those words I will jump to action.  I start at every sound, rife with anticipation.  If a bite would help I would bite.  If my head on your knee would help, I would place it.

I am sitting.  Waiting for the command. For the opening.  I will spring to whatever action is required.  In the meantime, I can't even determine if you can understand me.  Do you know what I am saying to you?  Do you know that my greatest joy is to be a part of yours?

The hardest thing for me is the waiting.  I am doing my best.  I must sit.  Stay.  Hold.  The Master knows what he's doing.  I am just the sheepdog.

Pollen

It's finally warmed up this year. Plants are budding out. Life is returning. It's been an extraordinarily cold year. But now the dry time has hit. We probably won't see much rain until June or July. And right now, the oak trees are blooming. All across this region, the oak trees have gone from dead brown to orange and yellow. Their shaggy flowers dispersing the yellow powder that produces acorns. There's so much of it that cars, houses, sidewalks, are stained yellow. You can actually see it blowing by in the bright light.

For many, this is a minor nuisance, but for increasing numbers this means runny noses, itchy eyes, scratchy throats. It's miserable. I am one of these for whom oak pollen is essentially toxic. I don't know why. Allergies are on the rise. More and more people are affected. I've tried everything, but nothing will really solve the problem.

Perhaps it's that more and more people are surviving childhood and that is allowing weaker genes to pass along. Where when infant mortality was higher, the weaker children didn't make it. Or perhaps, as the great Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki suggests, it is a result of our polluting our world. Perhaps the pollen is actually becoming more toxic, or the pollution we breathe and eat and drink is weakening us so that we can't resist these allergens. I have no idea.

I do know that I have been unable to will this away. I have been unable to treat it entirely, though medicines do help. I have prayed for it to be removed from me, but God has not. So I must bear it. I keep praying, of course, for patience, for resistance, for strength, for it to go away, for rain to wash it out of the air...but ultimately, I just have to endure.

In Japan, cedar trees cause similar problems, so the government cuts them down in populated areas...another aspect of the community spirit and care for each other that is prevalent in that culture. But here, there's no chance of that...it might hurt pharmaceutical sales, which would damage our economy!

But maybe, as Miyazaki suggests, it is cleansing our world, and the toxin will cease after the world has been purified. This sort of Gaia response is not so far fetched to an ecologist. It won't be in my lifetime though. Perhaps I should live in the tundra, or the desert, or somewhere without oaks...but then, it would be another plant.

So in the end, as Easter is upon us and we contemplate the death of Jesus, it is perhaps fitting. If this is all I have to bear, I suppose it is negligible to the sufferings he endured. Even to the sufferings of many around the world today. I am weak and soft and self-centered. But I commit this, as I must do all things, to Him. He is my hope, my salvation, my comfort. May I keep perspective and accept what I cannot change. The Unmodify Method I've described in recent posts has been difficult for me in this. But I'm trying to embrace it.

Happy Easter.