The little ragamuffin girl sits curled into the saggy sofa, with her wild hair, her ugly glasses and her hand me down clothes. She is happy. She lied to her father this morning, convinced him that she was sick and could not go to school. She hates school. Its a terrible place, where people are cruel and call her names and laugh at her.

  Her dad is a wonderful dad. She loves him to the moon and back, but he is a hard man, and he doesn't take kindly to bullies. When she tells him about the things that happen at school, he gets angry, and he demands that she fight and that she not allow people to pick on her. Even if her tormenters are boys, or older, or both.....dad says hit them with a chair, or a book, or anything you can find, but don't ever give them your lunch money and don't ever let them pick on you.....so she doesn't say much to him. She really doesn't want to fight people, she just wants to run and play, and be accepted, like all the other kids.

  So she sits on the saggy sofa, on that long ago day, watching Gilligan's Island, pleased that she avoided school, even if she did have to lie to do so, and she is content for the moment. Tomorrow will come soon, and she will face another day of school, but for right now, everything is fine.

 But then a man shows up, a giant of a man, with flaming red hair, her cousin, son of her uncle Bill and aunt Myrtle. He is always nice to her and she loves him. But today, today, maybe not so much, for what does he say but "I'm here to take you over to our house, I'm gonna give you a shot and it will make you feel all better."

  She pleads and cries as they make their way to his truck. "I feel better" she says! But he is persistent and has no mercy. He even seems to be amused by her distress, for his eyes dance with laughter.  

 They arrive at the big house on the big hill, and he instructs the little ragamuffin girl to sit quietly on the front steps, while he goes inside for the shot. She sobs, she is certain now that the great God that her father speaks of so often, is angry with her for her lie, and now he is punishing her for it by making her get a shot. Probably the only thing she fears more than school is needles. She sits and sobs, and she tells God she is sorry, so very sorry for her lie.

 Suddenly from the corner of her eye she sees movement, and she looks to the side of the house, and there, lo and behold, comes the red haired giant! And he is leading a beautiful little pony, and his eyes sparkle with laughter as he tells the little ragamuffin girl...."her name is Sugar.....she is yours".

   That memory was many long years ago and it is the first memory that always comes to mind, of my cousin, Stanley Ray Hall. I know there are earlier ones in their somewhere, but this one, this one, is the one engrained upon my memory. I am the little ragamuffin girl, and I am now 58 years of age and today, September 7th, in the year of our Lord 2018, my cousin Stanley Hall stepped into eternity.

  He was always kind to me and my brother, his father Bill was our beloved uncle, and his mother Myrtle was the only mother I ever knew. She loved me, she was there for me, and she never stopped loving me, even when I was not at all lovable.

  As for Stanley, he continued on, just like he did on that moment that he gave me that pony. It was Uncle Bill that bought that pony, but as the years passed, and Uncle Bill passed away, it was Stanley that got Baby Honey Dumplings, my next pony, and it was Stanley that always let me tag along, to horse events, and always let me hang out at the barn, grooming horses, talking horses....the ponies and horses of my childhood were precious to me, so very precious. I doubt Stanley ever really knew how very precious they were. If not for him, if not for his family, I never would have had the opportunity to be around horses, to learn about them, to ride them, and to love them up close and personal. Without Stanley, the closest I would have gotten to a pony or horse  would have been in the pages of a book..

 For a ragamuffin child, who later became an angry teen, those moments with the horses are probably my happiest moments. I have only one happy moment from school. That was my 3rd grade teacher, Miss Cowen, reading Charlottes Web to the class. She opened the wonderful door to books, through which I would escape some of my most awful times.....and Stanley, and his family, they opened the door to horses, both of these doors sustained me through my childhood, and my turbulent teens.

  I always considered him as more of a brother, than a cousin. I am so very grateful for the kindness that he showed me, kindness that in reflecting these past few hours after hearing of his passing, has brought tears to my eyes.

  When I grew older, and came to my senses and to God, I thanked Stanley for his kindness, but I never told him how very important he was in my life, I never told him how that little pony named Sugar, and all the horses that followed after her, were anchors for a little ragamuffin girl. Those long rides through the woods, those moments at the barn, those were moments that gave me hope, that made my life at that time, bearable. As a child in elementary school, no matter how bad things got, no matter how bad the bullying, no matter how alone and sad I felt at school, I had a pony, and me and my friends that lived next door to Stanley would go out with our ponies on many adventures and those are cherished and beloved memories.

  Being able to grow up with horses also sustained me later in life, and for a time, after I left the Air Force, these skills actually put bread on our table and a roof over our heads.....none of that would have happened were it not for that first pony, were it not for all those days at the barn and at the horse shows.

 So today, I feel very sad, sad that Stanley has gone from this world, and sad that I never actually told him how important his kindness, and the kindness of his mother and father were to me. And yet, as I weep over these regrets, a picture comes to mind, of him standing before our Savior, as our Lord shows him all the things he did across the years, all the good things, all the kindnesses he displayed, and a smile comes to my face, for I know for certain, without a doubt in my mind, that ones of those moments that Jesus is showing to Stanley, is of that little ragamuffin girl, with her ugly thick glasses, and her birds nest hair, and her frightful clothes, as she sits weeping on the steps, and as he watches this memory, and sees her face light up at his words, he will hear that voice, that voice that all of us long so to hear, saying "well done my servant, well done, enter now into your rest".

  Go with God Stanley Ray Hall, my cousin, my brother...… I did not call enough, I did not thank enough....as you well know, we Halls are not the best at these things. I will see you soon, and we shall gallop across green meadows, with bubbling streams, meadows filled with beauty, we will need no bridles nor saddles there, and He will ride with us...…and it will be amazing. Until then my cousin....my brother....until then.

   Many times in my life I have stood in a place, perplexed, frustrated and afraid, thinking to myself that surely something was wrong with me, or with the manner in which I was praying, for surely the way things were headed could not possible be the way God intended them to be. They certainty were not going in the way that I imagined they would.

   This morning, as I stood on a high bluff overlooking the Albuquerque valley awaiting the sunrise, with the sounds of the song "Mary Did You Know' playing softly on the car radio, my thoughts were drawn from Mary, the subject of the song, to her husband Joseph. Not much is known about Joseph and I thought of him and how he may have felt and what he might have experienced on that long ago day.

 Joseph was a man, in a man's world, a member of a religious society with a long set of moral rules. Here he was married to his beloved and her pregnant well before the wedding date. Scandalous for such a time as his regardless of whether society deemed him the father or not. According to societies rules he was well within his rights to put her aside publically, to shame and humiliate her. Now it is said that he, being a fair man, did not want to do this, and he had determined that he would put her aside privately. But then Joseph had a dream, and in his dream an angel told him ""Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.".........so he did just that.

 Now I imagine that he must have thought that since this child was from God that everything would be okay. God would work it all out in some glorious and amazing way. There was nothing to worry about and no need for concern. God has this.  

 And then the Roman governor called a census and Joseph now has to figure out how to get his heavily pregnant wife to a town 90 miles away, because the census requires him and his family to be counted in the town of his birth. Bethlehem, in Judea. Surely God couldn't intend for him to take his young, pregnant wife on such a difficult journey? How can this be happening? A 90 mile journey was no easy task in that time, and was for sure not something you wanted to do when pregnant. I had difficulty waddling to the mailbox with both my pregnancies and I cannot imagine the stress my husband would have gone through had he been tasked with getting me across 90 miles of ancient roads with probably nothing more than a donkey for me to sit on.

 What a sigh of relief Joseph must have breathed out when they finally arrived safely to the gates of Bethlehem. Mary was probably already exhibiting signs that the babe was coming and he would have most likely been desperate to find a safe place for her..........but there was no place. Every room was full. The place was packed. Nobody cared. Here he was with his young wife about to give birth in the street! God? Are You sure this is right? You said this baby was special? You said this baby was conceived by the Holy Spirit? And yet here I am in Bethlehem, with a bunch of other people and there is no place for me to take her! No place for her to bear this child! Surely this isn't what you intended?

  Hours later I imagine Joseph, on his knees inside the stable, with the stain of manure upon his garments and the smell of animal waste heavy in the air. There he is on the straw, perhaps holding the hand of his young wife as she labors and sweats and bleeds to expel this child. Surely this is not the way it was supposed to be! I wonder if he knew, as the child at last was delivered, as they wrapped Him and lay him in a manger, as he squeezed the hand of young Mary, I wonder if he knew that just a few miles away, the heavens had split open and angels were serenading a group of shepherds?  That the glory of it all had lit up the night sky and struck these hardened shepherds with such an awe and wonder that they would leave their flocks and come and see the babe that the angel chorus sang about. Joseph....did you know?

    Or was he sitting there exhausted and afraid,  stuck between doubt and wonder, the doubt picking at his soul because surely, if he had heard that angel right, the one he had dreamed about, then surely things would have gone down differently than he and her, and the newborn babe, stuck in a stable 90 miles from home. Did he hover, as I so often do, between doubt and wonder? Did he question himself regarding the dream? Did he question Mary's sanity? Did he ask himself if perhaps he had gotten it all wrong? Maybe the dream was just some crazy dream......maybe he misheard.... 

   I wonder what he thought when the shepherds showed up, there at the stable, kneeling at the feet of the child, their faces all aglow with the wonder of it all as they recounted the story of the angels singing "Glory to God in the highest heaven,and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests!" I wonder what he thought when the shepherds told him the messge the angel had proclaimed of "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.  Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” I imagine that he must have been pretty awe struck by that. If he had harbored doubts, if he was afraid and wondering how in the world all this was going down like it was, I imagine that put a stop to it all and left him in awe of the wonder of it all.

  My thoughts are speculation. Not much is said about Joseph. Nothing is said about what he thought about it all, whether he ever doubted, whether he was ever afraid. I expect he was. He was human. We humans are often afraid, we often doubt, especially when we are caught in the hard places.

  I have been there. In that place where I could not see what God was doing, or even know if He was doing anything at all about the situation I was so desperate for Him to change, so desperate for Him to make an appearance, to make it stop, to deliver, to save, to redeem............and yet in looking back through these things I find that He was always doing, He was always right there in the thick of it with me, He was always in the business of delivering, or saving, of redeeming. He always will be.

  The Christmas story is a wonderful story, a glorious and miraculous and amazing story that leaves us in awe and wonder of the way God planned all that out. But we know the end of the story. At the time that the story was unfolding they did not know all that we know. Sort of like our stories. We cannot see the end of it yet, and we often get scared at the way things appear to be unfolding, how they seem to be unfair, how it all seems just a little too hard sometimes. We should take comfort in knowing that our God is great at unfolding glorious stories, full of awe and wonder, an awe and wonder that is sometimes difficult to see when you are in the story and the end hasn't played out yet.

 'Do not be afraid.......step away from the doubt and into the wonder of it all.

 

 

  Here I stand in a swirling ocean, a dark and terrible storm blowing all around me, the water is icy cold, and the howling wind and the churning waters are overpowering.  My footing is uncertain, at times my feet sink deep and it seems I will surely drown. The voices of darkness can be heard, through the howling wind, they laugh, they mock and they gleefully announce my defeat. Like the voice of Job's wife they call out "curse God and die".

 Step by laborious step, slowly I move forward. The waves splash over me and sweep away my breath as the darkness calls out its constant taunting. I hear voices in the wind  laughing and crying out, "you are done, you are finished, you have nothing left to give."  And I acknowledge the truth of their words.......and laugh....I am done, but He is alive! I am finished, but He fights for me!, I have nothing left to give, but He holds ALL things! 

  There's an ocean of turmoil all around me, cold dark waves sweeping over my head, my tired feet stepping across the waves, sometimes with sure and certain footing, sometimes sinking right up to my thighs. And slowly, ever so slowly, I raise my hands to the King of Glory, to my Father who sits on high, to my Savior who has bought me with His blood, to my Redeemer who holds me, to the One who can tell the waves to "be still" and to the One who has already defeated the taunting voices screaming out through the wind. Yes........Yes....... I raise my hands and I laugh out loud, in praise and thanksgiving, for I am His and He is mine and no matter what comes, no matter how hard the winds might blow, no matter how tall the waves become, no matter whether I sink or swim or walk right through it all........I AM OKAY, for I am His.

  All that comes through the terrible storms, every bit of wind and rain and every wave that sweeps me off my feet is in His power and has been allowed. Nothing can touch me, nor the ones I love, apart from His allowing it, and if He allows it, He will bring us through it, for His great glory and for our ultimate good. Whether I have only today, or a thousand tomorrows, whether all that I have is swept away or whether it is kept. None of it matters. All that matters is that I am His and He is mine. All that matters is the knowledge that He has me and He has the ones I love. We are safe.

 So I raise my hands in the storm, and I dance upon the churning water, and I sing at the top of my lungs, "it is well with my soul, it is well! IT IS WELL! WITH MY SOUL!

  And the voices cease and I hear the song of grace........

  So here I stand, with waves all around, with the icy water sweeping over my head and my breath swept away. Here I stand in the midst of the storm, here I stand in the darkness and cold......here I stand, safe and secure.......for He is with me and He is enough.

"

   Preaching gospel to myself, as I do my best to walk by faith and not by sight. Trying with all my might to see the beauty and to hold on to hope. In doing so, I am so very grateful for music, which touches the soul, like a fresh rain on a hot day.

  And as I drove home today,....with the icy hand of anxiety slowly squeezing my heart, a song began to play on the radio and the words cut through the ice and the tears fall like rain..... And I lifted up my voice up and sang with everything in me. 

 You are my joy, You are my song

You are the well, the One I'm drawing from
You are my refuge, my whole life long
Where else would I go?

 

  About three weeks ago I took on the challenge of one little female pit-bull. Her rescue name is Appie but we call her Little Blue Dog.

  She came up from a shelter down south where a kind, soft spoken lady who is excellent with dogs had been unable to reach her. For some weird reason (I think it was meant to be this way) when she arrived at the rescue she came out of her kennel, wagged her tail and took a treat, ensuring her adoptability. That was the first and last time that she did so.

 After arriving she began to shut down. She would not leave the dog house and was terrified of everyone.  The rescue kennels are a very active place with a lot of dogs and a lot of noise. We assumed she was just having a hard time adjusting to it all and decided to move her to my house.

 I wrongly assumed that this would be just like all the other fearful dogs I have worked with, a little love, a little kindness and everything would be fine..... but it wasn’t. Nothing broke through her barriers. I was kind, I moved slow, I was patient. Chicken liver and black forest ham rained from the sky whenever I was around. I practiced appeasement and calming gestures that have worked well with fearful dogs in the past.  I would sit in her kennel and read just to get her used to me, never looking at her and always speaking soft yet confident. After three weeks although we had made some small progress it really wasn’t much.

 If she is loose she will run, she always runs at my approach, at anyone’s approach. If in her kennel or crate she hovers in the back and will only come out when the leash is attached to her collar. If inside she typically will hide inside her crate. Only one day, out of all the days did she come out and chew on a toy and just lay on the carpet. If you stand or move in any way she cringes and runs, if flight is not an option she goes down low, real low and awaits the displeasure that she is certain is coming.

   Once she is on a leash she will follow you, but she cringes at every move and seems to just be resigned to her fate and certain that you intend her harm.

 At certain points along the way she has been so shut down that she squints her eyes shut and just lays there as you touch her to put the leash on. Soft and gentle touch offers her no comfort and she just tenses up and allows it, certain that it is all a lie and harm is sure to follow.

 From time to time, and for only a fleeting moment, I see hope in her eyes, or something that I cannot quite put my finger on. If I sit down sometimes she will approach me, and if I walk about the yard sometimes she will follow and on occasion come up behind to sniff me, quickly fleeing if my head turns or I give any indication that I know she is there.

 She loves Patronus, my amazing Dog Whisperer dog. Through him I have been able to see a portion of her true self, as she greets him in the morning and dances in delight. For him her tail wags, for him she rains kisses, for him she bows and entices him to play. These moments are precious and beautiful to behold, for they show her as she was meant to be, as she was created to be, before some unknown sorrow broke her heart and spirit into fractured pieces.

 Working with her is heartbreaking. I have so much to offer her. Peace, rest, provision and a lot of love. I think of how it would be to have her in my lap and give her cuddles and rub her tummy….but to her this would be torturous. She simply cannot see all that I have to offer her for fear of some cruelty. I know not what she has endured in her short life, but whatever it was it has scarred her terribly.

 The lessons she teaches me are painful ones, not the normal happy and uplifting ones that other foster dogs have taught. She teaches me of sorrow, fears, hopelessness and brokenness, a tormented creature lost in the darkness. I see in her my own plight at certain times of my life, when God wooed me with His grace and mercy but I was so broken, so angry and fearful that I could not accept His wooing. Yet He never stopped pursuing me. I, like her ate crumbs from the ground when a feast beyond measure was there for the taking. I was just too broken to see it, and too disillusioned to believe it was real.

 Sometimes broken cannot be fixed, sometimes broken just will not come to the table offered. Yet God in His great mercy never stops asking, never stops pursuing, and never stops loving. I will do my very best to do the same, for the Little Blue Dog and in so doing, I will hope with all my heart that she will reach a place of trust where she will decide to eat from the bountiful table that is offered and know the peace of companionship with a caring human.

 Your prayers for her are greatly appreciated.

 

Little Blue Dog

I watch you huddled in the corner

Your eyes carefully watching my every move

Your body is tense, your tail tucked tightly

You are ready to flee…always ready to flee

Softness does not break through

Kindness and soft words do not penetrate

Tasty food has no appeal

You are convinced that nothing good comes from humans

Goodness and humans are a lie

I think you once believed that such things could be

I think your heart wanted it so very much

But someone trampled upon all that

And left you shattered and broken

Let me show you that beautiful is possible

Let me show you what grace can do.

Trust me little one…..trust me just a little bit

And we will behold the miracle of love.

 

 

 “Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life” (Psalm 23:6a, The Message)

 

 

“But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” (Romans 5:8 NLT)