animals

When it all feels wrong

Tessa

 My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26

Okay, when is it going to feel like God is ACTUALLY and ALWAYS my strength and my portion?  I’ve got the failing flesh and a broken heart down.  No issues THERE.  But Spiritual satisfaction, that ultimate inheritance and all that I need for eternity, my portion – where do I sign up FOR THAT?  Right now God doesn’t seem to be ‘more than enough’ for me to get by.  Is that sacrilege?  Maybe.  I’m complaining, lamenting really. I’ve been expressing my sorrow and asking for God to heal my heart – it’s a running prayer. It’s hope.  It’s faith. It SUCKS.

Let me tell you a little about what I’VE been up to.  It’s good to catch up, isn’t it?  Keep reading if you’re interested. Trigger warning: Melancholia ahead.  Have you seen that movie with Kirsten Dunst? It’s old now.  My daughter wanted to watch it a while back, and listen, it is SO slow, and the music and imagery makes you feel SO woozy and anxious and heavy-hearted, you have to admit that’s some damn GOOD acting.  Depression is well depicted.  But I don’t NEED that.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty OKAY, which is good for me until we learned that our long awaited camping trip to Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park was canceled.  It had been hit by a tornado.  Yup. Seems about right. It’s next to impossible to find a campsite for our enormous trailer a MONTH before going, let alone 5 months early.  We already played that game back in March.  So, NO camping.  No time in nature to unwind and BREATHE.

The day before our lease was up on the truck and we were in the midst of transferring to a ‘finance to own’ plan, just before it was scheduled to be safetied, and one day before the beginning of vacation, I BROKE the mother loving truck.  Twisted around a pole coming out of the hospital parking lot.  It was SO embarrassing.  I saw the guy in the lineup behind me roll his eyes, so I got out of the truck and walked over to his window.  He saw my clergy collar and screwed up his face.  I apologized for the delay and asked HIM what HE thought I needed to do to get untangled.  Always good to involve bystanders, get them to become invested in the effort rather than complaining at me.  I drove home like a bat out of hell.

So, for our spectacular VACAY, we went to my parents house. It’s tucked into the bush in the middle of nowhere with a lake within walking distance.  But I tell yuh, we SORELY missed the air conditioning and wi-fi in our trailer.  Not to mention the house has iffy toilets and a mouse infestation.  It was OKAY except it was so unbearably hot and humid. We were all miserable. 

I’d taken the Sunday off (I’m a pastor), so we went to my home church.  It was ALL WRONG.  The pastor was away.  My parents didn’t even sit with us and they left the building before we got through the greeting line.  I THOUGHT going would make THEM happy.  No such luck.  In fact, the whole time we were staying with them, as lovely as it was to have tennis or game shows always in the background (with the volume at 79) and be able to sit with my parents as they slept – I wanted to go HOME.  My mother’s dementia is difficult.  I think us being there confused her.  Oh, and, my old dog Tessa was unsettled by the mice.  She heard a noise and climbed the stairs in the middle of the night, only to slip and fall down the ENTIRE flight.  It was so awful.  I hugged her LOTS.

Being home was just another kind of hell.  One of my daughter’s gerbils, TED, got sick.  We took him to the vet for antibiotics.  He needed baby food to take the medicine so we stopped at the grocery store.  When I came out I ALMOST got hit by a car, got flustered, and got into the WRONG truck.  The driver was very nice.  He thought it was great that I’d picked a Chevy instead of a Ford.  The gerbil died two hours later. OOF.

So it took several attempts to get Andy (my husband) to bury Ted –  HALF a hole was ready for a few days.  The gerbil saga kept getting better.  I enjoyed an ‘oat vs spelt’ tasting at midnight while preparing gerbil food for the remaining gerbil- WHY no labels Bulk Barn? My daughter had me messaging breeders in search of a new companion for BEN (the bereaved) – before he gets depressed.  Enter AL.  Gerbil world is like a bad Soap Opera.  Now they have to bond. Fun times.

A couple days later my son gave Tessa her pills at the designated time and Andy, for a reason unknown, gave them to her a second time.  She got really disoriented.  We thought we RUINED her.  She had a yucky tummy for a few days.  I hugged her LOTS.

And then – here’s where my failing heart crashed and burned.  One ordinary morning I went upstairs to get dressed and ready to take my Tessa girl for her walk.  Shouting ensued.  By the time I got back down the stairs she had ALREADY suffered a stroke.  I can’t tell you how shocked we were.  My son and I scooped her up and got her to the vet – where we made the decision to help her die faster – it was ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE.  My son picked up his dead dog and we took her home where I hugged her body LOTS.  She’s been gone almost 3 weeks and I am no longer able to behave in an emotionally acceptable way – even at home I’ve been told to knock it off.  I cannot.  I hug myself LOTS


 8We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 

2 Corinthians 4:8-9

Back to lamenting.  Hard pressed? Check.  Perplexed? Check.  Persecuted (for crying too much)? Check. Struck down? Check.  But contrary to scripture I ALSO feel crushed, despairing, abandoned, and destroyed.  St. Paul says some stuff about how our weakness reveals God’s power.  Sometimes I CAN’T hear this message.  I want the hurting to stop.  I don’t want to be shown death over and over again.  I guess God knows we are forgetful creatures.  We carry around the death and the resurrection of Jesus in our piddly human flesh so that WE KNOW what both mean and can truly live as if our own resurrection has already happened.  If it’s true and God IS love, then I know Tessa is waiting for me through the gate – because God knows she makes me so happy.  It wouldn’t be heaven without her.   

All caught up.

We good?

Visiting Serenity

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 2 Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. 3 They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. 4 Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.”

Psalm 19:1-4 NIV

My husband GINGERLY tows our LARGE travel trailer so that our family can go camping with ‘the comforts of home’.  By ‘COMFORTS’, I mean, bringing many of our furry friends.  Andy removed the dining table and bench as well as the couch to make room for animal enclosures and adult sized bodies to sleep on the floor. As we careen down hills, and barrel around curves WAY too fast, my hubby swears and, I pray.  Our kids (all over 18 except for 1) sit squished together in our F-150, which is VERY difficult for our daughter who lives with severe OCD ETC.  Everyone is packed in like sardines.  The twins and their youngest brother in the back, Andy and my oldest son in the front, with me between them.  I have to keep my feet up on the console with my knees way up in the air – it’s like doing a 6 hour abdominal CRUNCH.  Man, my knees ache, and my belly gets sore!  The 3 guinea pigs are stuffed under the back seat.  The gerbils are in two carriers at the feet of one of my daughters.  The dog sits ON TOP of my other daughter and son.  It is GRUELING.  But we have collectively decided that it IS worth it.

Do you watch ‘The Chosen’ series on TV?  It’s not for everyone, but I enjoy the visual and the literary license taken to depict ‘A’ story about the ministry of Jesus the Christ.  MY CHRIST.  There is an episode in season one, illustrating Jesus BEFORE the onset of his public life, BEFORE he calls his disciples or any of that.  In it, Jesus pitches camp – FOR REAL. He sets up a cloth shelter, makes a fire pit surrounded by rocks, collects wood, forages food,  builds a wooden table, a work bench for tools he carries with him, and a hanging rack. He cooks over the fire with clay pots, and eats from homemade bowls.  He sleepswith his body on the GROUND.  He washes his face in a stream. He prays and exercises.  He sits and CARVES MANY things.  He hums and sings and EVEN tells campfire stories to children who visit him. 

It resonates.  I was raised by AVID, RUSTIC style campers.  I have given up some of THAT experience to accommodate the unique needs of MY children that would otherwise have prevented us from camping AT ALL. But I can speak this language of minimalistic, nomadic, nature exposed, and nature dependent circumstances.

The wallpaper on my phone is my FAVORITE icon of Jesus, “Christ in the Wilderness” by artist Kelly Latimore. She pictures Jesus sitting alone in the wilderness, under a starry sky, next to a campfire. He looks run down, in need of a rest. He gazes at the galaxies above, perhaps pondering HIS HUMAN SMALLNESS. The way he sits suggests he is cold or maybe shielding his legs from biting flies.  It is meant to represent his 40 days of temptation by the devil.  He is removed from all the ‘comforts’ of civilization and faced with the discomfort of CREATURELY living. To me, it speaks of reorienting oneself to the earth, the enormity of creation, and solidarity with lions and tigers and bears, OH MY! In my camping experience there have been bears, yes. Chipmunks, racoons, skunks, deer, and the damn mosquitoes are the norm.

A funny thing happens when we settle into our campsite.  My son who has led the life of a HERMIT since Covid, emerges from the trailer to sit by the fire.  To go for hikes with the dog.  To visit with extended family.  To smile and laugh, I can see his eyes and it fills me with RELIEF and JOY.  He worries me, SO.  

My neurodiverse daughter ALSO gladly emerges.  She hunts for all things living, capturing frogs, snails, millipedes, aphids, salamanders, moths,  isopods (roley poley/pill bugs), spiders and Daddy Longlegs (did YOU know they ARE NOT spiders? I still don’t like them).  She admires them ALL and thoroughly researches them on her tablet.  She takes tons of pictures and then releases them back where she found them.  Her OCD seems to vanish as she treks through the bush, off the path,  searching through rotten logs, under rocks, and in the dirt.  She loves seeing nature in action.  Ants moving their larva. The variety of mushrooms. How the chipmunks taunt the dog and steal her kibble.  She doesn’t realize how much exercise she is getting.  Like my son, she has exerted little energy since Covid.

The rest of us drink in as much of the beauty and serenity each day brings, even as it rains, as our pets get sick, and the trailer breaks.  Being outside ignites energy.  It lights a fire in our weary souls.  We suddenly feel the urge to move, to explore, to create, and to EAT. All that fresh air makes us VERY hungry!  

In Jesus time, I don’t suppose the smells and stuffiness of being indoors was very appealing. Going outside and breathing deeply is therapy for a life so congested with STUFF and overscheduling.  It allows a moment to taste and see that the Lord is good.   Look up, look down, look around, look within.  God is everywhere.  Nature opens us to receive the gifts of energy renewed, hearts filled, and the hope of living unto death.  

No matter what your position on the spectrum of mental health, I prescribe for you to GET OUTSIDE!  Creation speaks not a word.  Creation enfolds, inspires, energizes, and teaches us how this planet is good. The animals – mammals, reptiles, amphibians, birds, fish, insects, arachnids, molluscs- vertebrates and invertabrates, they are GOOD!  Trees, shrubs, grasses, flowers, weeds – ALL GOOD!  Dirt, soil, rocks, and sand, moss, fungi – so very GOOD!  Each with a God-given gift to serve the earth and EACH OTHER!  WE are a part of this circle of GOODNESS! The same SPIRIT is where we live and move and have our being. (Acts 17:28).  

Maybe Jesus wasn’t REALLY a camper, but he appreciated the created world.  Maybe you aren’t a camper EITHER.  You can STILL enjoy the fragrance of a beautiful garden, the breeze on your skin, the sound of the wind through the trees, the taste of the fresh bounty from the earth, birdsong, chipmunk chatter, the cry of a loon, the touch of soft grass on your toes, the smell and pitter patter of the rain.  Nature embraces you just as the Spirit embraces you, wherever you are, whoever you are, however you are. These natural things are available to us to seek out, to nurture, and to visit.  Serenity is found in hearts that listen for the ‘ground of all being’ that sings the rythm of the universe into the foundation of our humanity, into our Godspark, our very soul.  What a BLESSING to belong to this GOODNESS.

“SHOULD” is a dirty word.

My psychiatrist thinks Thursday is my day OFF, but it’s not.  I like how happy it makes HIM to think I follow such a healthy routine, so I don’t correct him. Truthfully, I don’t have a consistent day set ASIDE to rest.  There is NO time to rest, even if I’m NOT working.  

Keeping up with all my mindfulness tasks is a JOB in and of itself – yoga, meditation, listening to music and podcasts, reading, dog walking, fresh air, sunshine, volunteering with ponies, seeing friends and extended family, or even just calling them, writing, crocheting, playing guitar, drawing, EVEN praying – crammed all together in a day or two ARE work.  Add housekeeping and family management to that and I’m DONE.  Actual work at my JOB can be a welcome distraction from my self-improvement schedule and home life.

Sometimes I fall prey to the jaws of my own anxiety and feelings of guilt.  The SHOULDS begin to PROD at me even when I’m trying so hard to ignore them.  You should be working, they nag. You SHOULD be at the office, there’s so much to organize, so much to prepare, so many calls you COULD make.  It’s a nice day, you SHOULD walk around the village and visit ALL your parishioners.  They’d appreciate it.  You should go NOW. Isn’t so and so due for surgery?  Didn’t somebody just have a bad fall?  What about checking in with so and so’s recent widow? Isn’t there a get together, an event, a cause you SHOULD be supporting?  You should be MORE involved in the community.  There’s still half a day left – GO to the coffee shop, the community center, the park.  Be visible.  Be AVAILABLE.  It’s good for you.  People need YOU, Nadine! They are hard pressed for SOMEONE to minister to them.  Get off your self-absorbed butt and get to work!

No?  Well then, at LEAST mow the lawn, weed the flowerbeds, sweep the deck, do the dishes, do the laundry, prepare the recycling, take out the garbage, get the mail, scrub the floor, clean out the fridge.  I never dust.  My conscience has NOTHING to say about dust.

I’m dialing back on one of my antidepressant medications.  It’s going great. Gosh I’m edgy.  EVERY feeling is augmented.  Shame is ugly.  I COULD blame my meds.  That’s what I’ll tell my therapist.  Oh- those meds!  They wreak havoc on everything ‘MINE’.  

Rosie KNOWS the truth.  She’s the pony who listened to ALL my bull yesterday.  She could tell I was uncomfortable in my own skin – getting too close to touching my OWN rawness.  Deep in a pit of self-judgement and loathing.  Her eyes held me.  I got lost in her gaze.  She trained me up ‘real good’.  It wasn’t a calm day at the farm and the horses were startling easily.  

But Rosie overcame that.  I can’t take ANY credit because I was a mess.  First, as per usual, she gave me a hassle on our promenade to the arena.  She didn’t WANT to stand where I asked. She KNOWS that she can easily OUT LEAD me. But something shifted.  After rubbing her itchy bum on the support beam, she urged ME to groom her.  She let ME lean in, scratch her ears and murmur at her. She was STILL.  She was PATIENT (she’s usually sassy).  When I turned away SHE stepped toward me, put HER nose on my shoulder, she coaxed me to ENJOY her contact, she nuzzled and listened to me breathe out. She was so EMPATHETIC and KIND. Thank God for her.

Today the SHOULDS are still bugging me.  I’m mostly ready for Sunday.  I’m procrastinating though.  This is PRIME sermon writing time.  The scripture readings are about taking time for rest, for Sabbath restoration and healing.  Jesus says the commandment about keeping the Sabbath is a gift for US.  GOD DOESN’T NEED REST.  But God knows that WE DO.  

In a few days my edginess will dissipate.  I’ll settle down.  The shoulds won’t be so LOUD.  Let the Spirit fill your troubled heart with the same empathy and kindness I found in my pony friend.  Medication or not, it WILL see you through the rough patches and bolster your tender heart for every tomorrow. 

Durably Disordered

In June of 2015 my daughter (the younger of my twins) was eleven years old.  We were camping and had just come back from a difficult visit to the camp store.  Stuff happened.  I was irritated by the onlookers and wrote the following on Facebook:

“My daughter suffers from selective mutism, social anxiety, learning delays, and unidentified behavioural disorders.  I stood beside her in the public camp parking lot as she lay on the pavement and loudly invited anyone to run her over … Because her mother doesn’t care.  ‘We’ don’t love her or want anything good for her.  ‘We’ are the worst parents. 
She proceeded to punch me until I couldn’t breathe.
You all saw it.
Don’t judge her. Don’t take it personally when she won’t look at you or talk to you.
This is a very real mentally disordered reaction to not getting the toy she wanted from the store and simply from being around strangers.  Your eyes on her make her anxious, and she assumes you want something from her.  Many things set her off.  Sometimes, she chooses fright, freeze, or flee.  This time, she chose to fight.  It happens often.  It’s devastating.  If you encounter us again, please give us the space to deal with it.  Prayers and love are welcome.
Don’t tell us how to parent.  Reserve judgment.  We are doing the best we can to do right by her.  Awareness is Everything.”

I received a lot of sympathy posts.  It just made me angry with myself for trying to protect my image of proper parenting.  Nobody needed an explanation.  My own personality disorder switched on and made me fight, too.   

I don’t know what it is like to be my daughter.  She, however, identifies with me.  She sees me get flustered, sweaty, angry, and popping pills.  We normalize each other’s behaviour.  It’s a daily struggle for everyone who lives with us. The pressures of life weigh heavily upon anyone who is mentally ill or somehow neurodiverse as well as for caregivers.  Mental illness is common, but my daughter says she often feels strange and alienated. Some days she feels like she should never have been born. Other days are tolerable. Once in a while, she has a happy day. We celebrate those moments. 

She began medication for anxiety, depression, and selective mutism when she was nine.  It was a hard decision.  I loved her spunk, bounciness, brightness, creativity, and  joie de vivre.  We were terrified that we would lose those beautiful parts of her personality.  It did change her.  I can only describe it as a kind of numbing.   Her intense emotions were replaced with a void of unfeeling. Her expressive body movements and her voice became less marked.  As the years wore on, we added Autism Spectrum Disorder to her greatest hits list.  Looking back, it all makes sense.  Cradle to nineteen – she has quirks that make her as unique as she is complicated.  She is a fabulous artist and extremely knowledgeable about insects, animals, and the natural world.  

I’m writing this after a couple of hours with the Newfoundland ponies that my friend at Poppy’s Haven so generously allows my twins and I to interact with.  Today my daughter wasn’t feeling her best.  Whenever she overextends her effort to be social, she manifests physical symptoms.

Oh, but the smiles!  Oh, but the sound of her voice!  Oh, but the delight she took in caressing, grooming, and whispering to the ponies!  It was so great for both girls.  Combined, the three of us are a walking ball of tension and anxiety.  Not today though, nope.  We even visited with my friend’s Newfoundland dog.  What a beauty.  He sparked much conversation.  

Today I caught a glimmer of the brightness I rarely see since starting my daughter’s meds.  We are so blessed to have a safe place for her to enjoy and practice being herself.  I am forever grateful.

Please. Help us normalize mental health.  Talk about it and fight against the stigma.

Love is a Rough Routine

Animals are medicine. At my house, our schedules revolve around the needs of our pets. In our family of six, five of us live with anxiety ranging from mild to debilitating. Habits are very important to our feelings of safety and calm.

Our twins are 19. One will likely remain a dependent for life. The other will be slow to launch. We’ve chosen to make the most of any goodness we can provide them. They can have whatever pets they want.

The dog is mine. I couldn’t do this without her. The time of day varies, but she and I enjoy daily walks with or without the company of my girls. I also take dedicated time to love on her. She expects it in the evening, especially when she gets on the bed at day’s end. I swear she has superpowers.

We feed and clean the guinea pigs twice a day. Before I go to work and before we settle in to watch a bit of TV at night. They are super cute and super disgusting. It’s like having an indoor farm. I do the bulk of the work because they technically belong to my daughter who lives with severe OCD. She loves them so much. (And many other critters we don’t need to talk about now).

Gerbils are my second twins’ entire life. She has a few online contacts. She’s done with in-person school and will slowly finish her diploma virtually. Her day is her gerbils. I participate regularly with their floor time and cleaning. We suffered the deaths of her first gerbils of four years. It pretty near destroyed both of us. You wouldn’t understand unless you knew them. So bright, intelligent, and friendly.

There is NOTHING worse than watching your child as she comforts her heart as it dies. Months later, her heart burst again as the remaining gerbil died on her lap.

She was thrown into an abyss of loss. She didn’t know how to order her days without her precious fur babies.

We eventually got 3 young gerbils from the same litter. It took a bit – allowing them to use the sacred things of her firsts, but the relationship blossomed, and she was almost back to herself.

The gerbils are coming to maturity and becoming more territorial. To her horror, just randomly, totally out of the blue, one gerbil picked a fight with another, a ball of angry rodents in a death grip. She got them apart. She got bitten for the first time ever. By God, I was sure it was the end, both covered in blood. This is just so MUCH.

Thanks be to God, they will live. We’ve separated them 2 and 1. Our routine has doubled. Still, it is her life’s work to honour them. She finds comfort in talking to breeders and providing the best care.

Domestic animals are a blessing, for sure. Loving them, as with loving anyone, is risky business. Anything could happen. Love is always worth it. (Even spending hundreds of dollars on veterinary care for rodents!)

I pray about our animals as much or even more than I do for people. It’s the last moments of my day – the most consistent habit. I pray my children will be comforted, strengthened by their experiences, and blessed with new joy. I pray for the dog, the cat, the guinea pigs, and the sweet little gerbils to recover, to live long and be well, and to gladden the hearts of my complicated family. Love is rough, but God is good. Always.