Monthly Archives: December 2013

And a little dog shall lead them

I remember the first time someone pointed out that d-o-g spelled backward is g-o-d. And at the time I probably thought that the person was a little nutty.

But now I’m really starting to wonder if there *is* something to it, like a divine connection between humans and dogs.

My brother recently adopted a rescue dog from a no kill shelter. This dog could fit into a microwave (just a guess). And it’s some sort of terrier mix from Miami named Cuco.

And I think this dog has some god-like qualities. For starters, it stays right with my brother and if given the choice, it would much rather be near his heart than left outside.

Another god-like trait is that at night, if he hears my brother having a nightmare, he snuggles in close and comforts my brother with all kinds of little kisses.

For anyone who suffers from emotional or psychological distress, a companion dog can be the closest we get to the incarnation of a compassionate god.

The god that I’m thinking about is a god of comfort, compassion, and faithfulness…a god that won’t let you out of sight and is right there to lick your wounds…whether that be a broken heart or a broken mind.

It’s true that this little dog is not as smart as god…and it’s far from perfect.

But I think God was smart in creating little things in this world, like babies and dogs, to help show us some kind of love just when we need it most.

Sliding towards Christmas

I’m thinking about what it feels like to slide.

Imagine sliding down a playground slide: feeling pure delight, feeling carefree and on top of the world.

Remember how it feels to go down a really awesome slide? Again and again?

But there’s always that bad slide ride.

I’m thinking of times when the slide is not slippery enough and you get stuck halfway down…getting stuck sucks.

Or how about when the surface is so hot that it burns the bottom of your thighs. Ouch!

This Christmas I notice lots of sliding going on…we slip slide along with others towards the day when we hope something special will be felt, heard, spoken, seen, received or given.

Big feelings slide towards Christmas with us; fears and worries, too.

Will he stay sober?

Will she drink too much?

Will they show up?

Will she make a scene?

Will we fight?

Will we be happy?

Will I be alone?

Will she take her meds?

Will I be able to get out of bed?

Will this be our last Christmas together?

Why do I feel depressed?

What’s wrong with me?

How will I get through the holidays?

Do I really have to [fill in the blank]?

We don’t want to ruin Christmas, so we try not to stay stuck halfway down the slide.

But it’s hard not to get stuck with all the fears sliding around in our heads.

Wouldn’t it be nice if all our fears and worries could just slip down a slide (a good and fast slide) in our head and fly right out our left ear?

Many of us are sliding towards Christmas this year.

We hope it’s a good slide.

But chances are good that it won’t be perfect.

Experience tells us that we might stop short or get burned or bump into others on the way down.

Then there’s always the kid who scrambles back up the slide right when it’s your turn to go down…slam!

But you know what?

We are all on this playground together.

There’s no secret about the slide.

We want it to be fun.

But sometimes it’s not.

We get disappointed and hurt.
We disappoint and hurt others.

Maybe next time when you feel like this holiday season is not bringing you joy, imagine yourself going down this long, slippery, twisty slide…and yell out “weeeeee!”

And look for me because I’m coming down the slide right behind you.

Facebook (almost) Killed Leo

Leo is not his real name. But there are many like him.

Leo flips through Facebook and sees something that makes him want to vomit.

Now a number of things on Facebook on any given day may cause a gag reflex.

But for Leo, this one was the worst.

It was personal.

It’s Leo’s ex…photographed with her lover…and their young child.

Someone else’s lips touching her forehead. Someone else’s child hugging her leg.

Never read the comments.

Leo read the comments.

“Most adorable family ever!”

“So cute”

Leo is livid. He’s also been fighting mental illness for, well, most of his life.

Leo wants it all to end: the betrayal, the lost future, the unhappy ending to a fairy tale that was more of a scary tale.

The only question in Leo’s mind is who will stop living so that the pain stops?

The ex?
The lover?

The photos and comments on Facebook almost killed Leo.

Leo made up his mind.

And as Leo checked himself into the psychiatric hospital (knowing he was a harm to himself or others) he wasn’t sorry he had to turn over his smart phone to the intake nurse.

No smart phone = no Facebook.