Yes, I See Me in the Wee

I've been wanting to upload this for a while, but the ending is week so I put it off.  March is coming to a close, so here goes, weak ending.  Suggestions welcome.  :)

Yes, I See Me in the Wee

I had to dremel the dog’s toenails today.  I didn’t know dremels existed until this dog.  It’s a very cool electric thingy with a rotating head covered by an emory band, so it spins doggie toenails into dust.  I bought it because clipping his nails required the muscles of a trainer,  because I was terrified of getting into the quick, and because the process was so traumatizing to him that he would wee whenever he saw the clippers.  So, the last time the groomer clipped him to the quick, I bought the dremel.

Now my lab wees when he sees the dremel.  It doesn’t hurt, but he wees.  Every time.  I give him treats, I woo and pet and praise him.  He cowers and wees.  I roll him on his back, lay a towel on his privates, and start the dremel on low.  It doesn’t matter how low.  Whiz goes the dremel; wee goes the dog. 

He does the same at bath time.  A bath means being praised for every baby step into the tub, getting watered down with a warm spray, and being gently massaged with a fluffly glove.  He takes on a droopy turkey-vulture look from the minute I say, “Bath,” head hanging low, eyes looking down, suspicious that this one time will be different than all others. 

I’m the one who bathes and dremels him, the one who wipes out his ears with a cotton swap, the one who brings the flea meds into the house.  I am the adversary.  In between those events, he is cuddled next to me or begging to be petted.  But, when a dremel or cotton ball or flea pill appears, he eyes me suspiciously, wishing I would stop interfering in his life.  I become the one he tries to hide from.  The one he dreads.  I am the weirdo who won’t leave him alone. 

Cleaning up the last puddle of wee today, I thought, “You ridiculous, ridiculous dog.  Stop making this mess.  You have nothing to fear in me.  I wish you could speak English.  I wish I could speak dog.”

Yes, I got it.  Yes, I saw me in the wee.  Running, hiding, weirding out over things I can’t figure out.  Peering around a corner at the future, wondering if my master will really insist on another bath or clean ears or good medicine.  And if so, will they look different than last time?  My head might know He is good and loves me, and experience might tell me He has only done me good.  But, my ridiculous, ridiculous flesh still sometimes asks if I can really trust him this time not to drown or poison me, trim me too close, or cause me unnecessary pain.  And I sulk and tremble and wee.

I’m glad He’s patient.  And that keeps interfering. 

Red Light Prayer

I have a big boy job now.

What that really means, is that I commute to work, have a desk and computer, work eight hours, and have a lunch break. It's nice - something I'm not used to, but I'm figuring out how offices and commuting work.

Our small group has been focusing on being more intentional with our time, money, and energy - essentially, if we acted like we were missionaries in our home towns. One morning, a couple weeks ago, I was driving to work, and got caught at the same red light I always get caught at. Jacksonville residents might know that 9A near Philips Highway just added 9B to cut off some of the traffic build up. 9B and Philips Highway, I always get stopped at the light.

That morning, I was in traffic, and looked in my rear view mirror. The middle-aged man in the BMW was yelling at someone on the phone. I mean, really screaming. I chuckled a little bit, thinking that this was the picture of unhappy corporate America. Then that small voice in the back of my head said, "Pray for him."

Of course! Being more intentional with my time means praying for people I see who are struggling. Feeling like an idiot, I spent the next five minutes praying for this guy behind me. Turns out, we work in the same building, and parked three spots away from each other, so there might more to that story later.

This started something I call "Red Light Prayer" every morning. As soon as I pull up to this intersection, I start praying for the person behind me, even if they haven't arrived yet. It's been something that has helped me be compassionate to complete strangers, and use my time productively in the car. Red lights don't bother me as much, because as I continue to be faithful in prayer, I know God is going to put people who need prayer behind me.

This morning, I pulled up to the stop light at 9B and Philips Highway, and waited for the person behind me to show up. They didn't. The light turned green, and I drove through. Clearly, malicious forces were giving me this green light to prevent me from praying for someone.

I prayed for the person in front of me instead. Take that Satan. That's what you get for giving me a green light. 

Promises

I've been holding off, 'cause I've been holding on

To everything that used to be, but I wanna' let go now
You have promised me, that beauty will come out of this
And though I cannot see it all, my broken heart with my hands I'll lift

[chorus:]
I don't know why You have made me this way
I don't see, but not a single doubt remains
I'll hold on to Your promises, because I know You promised
Something beautiful will come out of this

I've been chasing dreams, 'cause I've been chased by fear
I couldn't imagine all this, would happen to me this year
You have promised that new life would come out of this
And though I don't understand, my broken heart with my hands I'll lift

[chorus]

[bridge:]
I don't know why, and I certainly can't see
I'll hold on to the words You spoke, 'cause in this there is beauty

I can't know why You have made me this way
I can't see, but not a single doubt remains
I'll hold on to Your promises, because I know Your words promise
Something beautiful will come out of this

Something beautiful will come out of this

F.E.A.R.

Greetings and salutations, fellow Writer's Marchers! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Joseph Frederick Kindelsperger; University of North Florida alumus, Dopey Challenge finisher (definitely look that up), and soon-to-be writer extraordinaire. I am a driven personality with a fascination for a wide variety of topics. I am excited to take part in the 2014 Second Annual Writer's March! So, let's get started.

To officially begin my writing career, I will discuss fear and the role it plays in our lives. Fear is a force that is highly familiar to most of us, and in many cases intangible or even imperceptible. Fear thrives in our own shadow and stalks us everywhere breathing dark whispers into our hearts and minds as we go about our daily activities. Sometimes we do not even know why we fear something or come up with reasons that are lies (i.e. applying for that job, talking to that gorgeous girl or guy, taking the trash out at night). Other times, we cannot even perceive that we make decisions based on our internalized sense of fear. It is as if, out of habit, we create our own patterns of avoidance that lead us in circles around the object of our fears, never confronting it. Things like going to the same restaurant over and over, not inviting people to join your group of friends, writing despite being good at it, etc. Fear kept me from joining the March last year, and it may be what keeps others from joining this year.

That is not to say that fear is absolutely detrimental to our success. Fear can be an angel just as often as it can be a demon. Fear is what keeps you from going out into the hazards of the unknown. Fear also saves you from the dangers that you know, but may have forgotten.

Fear has a phrase that it loves to whisper above all, especially when a challenge presents itself unexpectedly. Not even from around the corner, but out of thin air. Like a ghost with a furious vengeance. Oddly, in these moments that whisper sounds more like a shriek, "F@#* EVERYTHING AND RUN!!!"

In panic, we do just that. F.E.A.R!

In my life, F.E.A.R. has been an automatic response to so many things. Mingling at events with no one to introduce me. Signing up for running events and not participating due to injury or insufficient preparation (See the irony?), and many other things that I am not yet prepared to share. In some instances years past, I have been known to literally run away if a situation got too intense for me. Just thinking about those situations makes me shiver.

Through my experiences I have discovered that fear is not a dictator, but an adviser. All it takes to bring the Fear out of your shadow and into the light is simply two-way communication. Fear will not answer you when you ask it why you should be afraid. That is on you. However, it will obey when you whisper back its favorite acronym, F.E.A.R.

"Face Everything And Rise", you tell it. In time you may even discover that you were never telling Fear to back down, but yourself to step up.

In writing, we have a voice. This Writer's March is a grand opportunity to shed whatever fears we have, if any, and raise our voices to make them heard. I look forward to discovering what each participant here will write. As a novice I have no doubt that my growth in blog-writing this month will be substantial. Although I hope everyone enjoys this event as much as I know I will, I also hope that we will all come to identify something that we individually fear. Then face it, and rise.