Of Deer and Dogs

One of my favorite things about my "little house on mansion street" is that we get to share it with a massive herd of whitetail deer. With all of the new subdivisions going up around the area, the deer have found a bit of sanctuary in our larger wooded lots next to the creek. Though our lots are larger for the area, none of us here have spaces big enough to legally hunt the animals, so with plentiful food and water and an almost non-existent predator population, the deer have all but taken over. Because the deer understand that we are not a threat, they are hardly skittish or afraid of us, and a few "special" ones will even come right up to us.

It's almost like living in a princess movie, but instead of helping me with house chores, these forest creatures eat all of my flowering bushes and poop all over my lawn.

Even so, I have come to view the deer as part of the overall experience of living here and, for the most part, enjoy living alongside of them. My dog, Buster, does not feel the same way...

We adopted Buster a few years ago from a rescue shelter. At the time, he was completely malnourished and very weak. He never barked, he never got riled up about anything, and the only thing he seemed to get excited about at all was a good game of fetch. Even then, he wouldn't whine for me to throw the ball, but he would place it in my lap and sit expectantly. He was very expressive with his face, but never vocal. I honestly thought he was mute.

I thought wrong.
(So very wrong.)

Once he started gaining weight and strength, he found his voice. Squirrels were his formidable enemies, followed closely by doves. If they entered the yard unwelcome, the whole neighborhood would know. He was a guard dog in every sense of the word, and he had a big bark to match.
When we moved here with the deer, I thought he would lose his mind. Turns out, I'm the one losing my mind dealing with his constant barking.

The problem with his barking is that it does absolutely nothing. It literally serves no purpose.
The deer know that he's fenced in and can't harm them. As long as they stay a certain amount of feet back from the fence, they're totally free to eat flowers and poop as they please. And, it's not as if he's alerting me that there is something in my yard I didn't know about. I already know the deer are there, because they're everywhere.
So now instead of sweet Buster's barking being an informative tool (Hey Mom, something's here!) or a defensive tool (Here Mom, I'll scare them for you!), it is just a big bunch of noise and a giant pain in the butt.

My husband and I--okay, fine.--My husband has tried to train Buster to "bark better." We don't want him to lose his natural instincts to protect, because that's what good dogs do. But, he needs to know when something is really a threat, and when it is something that can be left alone. The deer are welcome to be in our yard, because they live here too. But there are things that they don't need to be right next to, and then we want to know.
Sometimes Buster gets it right for us...and then other times he barks at the deer in our neighbor's yard across the street.
Sometimes I feel like we're making progress...and then other times I feel like banging my head against the window.



Sweet friends, I worry that many of us are "barking" at things for no reason. There are "deer" all around us that we consider threats that are actually not doing anything other than living in the space that is rightfully theirs too. Does this make any sense?

Instead of saving the day, we are making noise that serves no purpose.
Hey guys, someone is here with an opinion!--We know that. Opinionated people are everywhere.
Hey guys, I am going to "scare back" this person with my noise!--Well, probably not, because they are protected by miles and miles of physical space *AND* the fact that you have no idea who that person even is, nor will you ever meet them. You are not a threat. You are just noisy. And they are still going to poop on your grass.

I used to be so bad about barking unnecessarily. I still don't get it right all of the time. Sometimes something seems threatening when it really isn't, but we misread the situation. I get that; I really do.
One of the better realizations that I ever came to was that whenever I got worked up, I needed to make this distinction:
Does this opinion offend my online persona or my actual person?

If there is a threat to your person, fight it. If there is a threat to your feelings, you don't have to.
There are a lot of "issues" going on in the world, and I have a general opinion about many of them. Some of the issues might be easy for people to guess my leanings toward, and some of them might surprise people. All of them are mine. None of them are necessarily threatened by people who don't agree with me. Almost all of these things can coexist with the person on the other side of the fence.

Guys, some of us are barking at things that aren't even in our own yards--you know what I mean? Sometimes we get so offended by things that aren't even our things!
How long you should date a person before you marry them, how old you should be when you get married, how many children is too many...
How a mom feeds her baby, how late she lets her kids stay up, home school or private school or public school, athletics or robotics or music or none...
How a person dresses, how a person eats, how a person decorates...

One of the best lines I've heard in a while is if it's not yours, don't take it.
This does not suggest that we ignore injustice because 'it's not happening to us.' Sometimes things will happen to other people in our life and they will need us to pick it up. That's part of helping carry people's burdens.
But we can only help carry things if we are next to the person who laid them down.

So, in a world where we all feel so interconnected, how can we tell if a thing is ours? It's tricky, but I think it has to do with looking in our own fence.
As an example, let's go back to that one time some people got all mad at Joanna Gaines certain elements of farmhouse decor.
Do you actually know someone who is offended by raw cotton stalks as décor? No? Then leave it where it is. You don't have to pick that up! Yes? You're one of the lucky ones, man! Do what my dog and the deer cannot do. Quit barking and open a dialogue. Gain some perspective. Do you have to agree? No. Will it change your opinion? Maybe, maybe not. Will it change the "level of threat?" I really, really think so.

I've found it surprising in my own life how much I can sympathize with and understand another person's argument without necessarily making it my own. I think the biggest lie we've been given as a society is that we have to pick a side for literally everything. There are many MANY opportunities where I can live somewhere, very peaceably, right in the middle. I can understand very clearly the needs of both the deer and the dog and work to serve each of them fairly, within my means.

At the end of the day, the earth is one big yard and we are all entitled to share it. Don't mistake our co-inhabitants for enemies. Don't always mistake disagreements for threats. There are real threats in the yard to be certain. But the biggest danger of all *just might be* that none of us are going to know when the real threats show up if we've already tuned out all of the barking.

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. (Romans 12:18)

Lord, help us.

The Little House on Mansion Street

Our family moved to the burbs outside of Austin, TX, last December. We don't like to brag about it a whole lot, but I'm pretty sure we are the house-finding ninjas of the Army. Outside of our very first PCS, (Army slang for "move,") we have never lived in a neighborhood or house that I wouldn't move back to. This house is no exception.

We found it completely by accident after being let down by a sneaky realtor. One of my favorite kinds of blessings are the ones that happen immediately after you have been let down. I feel like it's God's way of saying, "I see you, I'm here, and I haven't gone anywhere."
After falling in love with and losing the sneaky realtor's house, I was determined to find another house in the same area. The only problem was, none of the listings were in our government-employee price range. (Apparently those lovely Californians had brought their home prices with them when they came to Texas.)
But then my husband found it, all available and vacant, next to the two most beautiful words that can be seen next to a house listing: "price reduced." It was a couple of miles past the original neighborhood I was ogling, but it was off the same main access road and had the same awesome school ratings. We booked the viewing, and I held my breath.

The first time we turned down the road on my street, I thought we were lost. Each custom home was nicely situated on 3 and 4 and 5 acre lots, and the further down you drove, the more extravagant they got. My husband and I just looked at each other.
"Are you sure you're on the right street?" I asked.
"The GPS lady says I am," he answered.

We drove about a mile down, passing a beautiful, stately home separated from the street by a private pond (or maybe a moat??) and then we saw it; our sweet little 3 bedroom 2 bathroom house, built in 1979--still basking in much of her linoleum and wallpapered glory. It has a sunken living room and the tiniest master bathroom you've ever seen and a sad, dreary brown door.

I truly loved it.

As we toured the house and asked questions, we happened to notice some new construction on the lot next door. It turned out that a well-off custom pool and home contractor for the area had decided to build his dream home in that spot. So we would be the little house between the castle with a moat and the 6,500 sq. ft. looker with a dream pool.

Oh man! Where do we sign?!

For a while it was really amusing to me that we were the regular Joes where all the Joneses were. Their kids would drive their golf carts and motorized scooters down the street, while we would have a contest with our kids in the front yard using the three-year-old hula hoop I had bought on clearance for two bucks. We would take family walks in the evening and swoon over two to three miles-worth of beautiful homes and cars and yards and dogs. (Seriously, one of our neighbors said he spent thousands of dollars on each of his rare breed of dog. He had THREE of them!) I always enjoyed looking at all of these treasures, but it was enough for me just to look at them--while I appreciated the beauty that was in those things, I never felt the pull to have them for myself.

But you know what the enemy does to your heart whenever it's content? It's so small and seemingly innocent, you might not even notice it's happening. He makes you aware that other things are attainable. It's not that you are immediately ungrateful for the things you do have, but you start to develop this lingering hope of what you might have someday. And then, ever so subtly...

what you have < what you hope to have. Eventually, the things you do have no longer seem good enough. Sure, they were perfectly good and amusing before, but this other thing might be better. It sure looks better.

That's how you covet. That's how he can take a sweet contentment, the slightest hope for blessings and favor--something we are promised in the LORD!--and corrupt it, turning it into sin.

He's done this from the very beginning, friends.

"Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”
“You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

(Genesis 3:1-7 NIV)

I used to pride myself on the fact that I was never much of a material girl. My parents didn't have a lot of money growing up, and so I didn't put a lot of stock on things. Then I went to college where EVERYBODY is poor. Then, I married a man in the Army, where we all make modest amounts of money and any nice thing you DO have gets broken during a move anyway.
People, this is the first time I have ever lived anywhere or known anyone who was able to have these beautiful things. And it turns out, after all this time of thinking I was above it, I am not immune.

No one is.

So how do we overcome it?

We seek our contentment from God and God alone. Which is like the easiest sounding BUT MOST EASY TO SCREW UP THING EVER.
It was literally our first sin. That is why it is the first of the Ten Commandments: You shall have NO other Gods before me. Know what the last one is? Thou shalt not covet.
Coincidence? I think not.
It is SO important, SO critical, SO easy to slip up on, that He bookends it. First, LOVE ME FIRST. Last, DESIRE NO THING OVER ME.

Yesterday, I started a Bible Study at my new church on Tim Keller's "Counterfeit Gods". Basically, I am only ten pages into this book and AM RUINED FOREVER. As I entered the room, I was all like, "Man, I wonder what kind of small, little bit of something that's not Jesus is hiding under the surface here" and a single hour later, God was all "YOU BEAUTIFUL IDIOT! YOU LIKE THE THINGS!"
Y'all. Turns out I like the things.

So here I am, and here is where I'm at. I won't stay here, though. One day, in the future, I really will be over all of these worldly things. But that's not today.
Pray for me. Pray for you. Pray for all of us.

"Than any comfort, Jesus is better--make my heart believe.
More than all riches, Jesus is better--make my heart believe.
Our souls declaring, Jesus is better--make my heart believe.
Our song eternal, Jesus is better--make my heart believe."


(Also, feel free to come visit me anytime. I'm the little fella between all the giant mansions.)

Tough Breaks

I'm just going to say some things here that probably won't make me sound like Mom of the Year. In fact, I'm not even sure that "good moms" are supposed to admit these things to people, but here it goes...

I love back-to-school time. A lot.

I love having my home to myself. I love every blissful moment of quiet. The empty-house hours of 7am to 3pm are MY JAM.
While I do enjoy spending every waking minute with my kids, doing so sure can make it hard to get other things done (and therefore, they usually don't.)

There are mothers who seem to thrive in the summertime. They claim that they love every minute of summer and that it goes by too fast. They weep when their children stroll through the front doors of school, and they anxiously count down the minutes until their children's return.

Let me just say, I absolutely love those moms. I totally understand most of the things that they say.

I just am not one of them.

Even when my kids were small, I looked forward to them being old enough to go to school. I didn't look forward to them growing up super fast. I didn't look forward to them not needing me as much. I didn't even necessarily look forward to them being away from me.
I just looked forward to a time when I could be productive without feeling so scattered. I looked forward to a time when I could complete tasks without pre-school shows playing noisily in the background. I looked forward to being able to finish a project without being interrupted every few minutes by cries or spills or "potty emergencies."

Then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, it happened. Both of my kids were in school, and I was living the dream.
I have to admit, this whole school-aged kid thing is pretty much as sweet a gig as I figured it would be.

This is certainly not to say that I don't look forward to summertime, or summer vacations, or all of the precious memories we are sure to make. Those sweet moments are not lost on me--no no!

In fact, this summer was an incredibly special time for my family, (and there's not any way to write that sentence and not have it be a huge understatement.) Because of my husband's unique "job" right now, we got to spend the entire summer together. No deployments, no training exercises, no all-day workdays, no late nights, no work emergencies, no middle-of-the-night phone calls. Just us, every day. Our family had worked and sacrificed so much for this time, and I felt like we had totally earned this break.
We literally put all other responsibilities aside. Togetherness was the #1 priority. This summer was an absolute treat, and I was so thankful to have been given that time.

And yet, I still was ready for it to be over and for school to start. It is inevitable with me. Sometime between July and August, I feel a strong sense of longing for backpacks and carpools and extracurricular activities and normalcy. I felt so bad about it--like maybe something was wrong with me. One night as I sat around the family calendar and pondered how on earth we were going to entertain ourselves for the X remaining days until everyone went back to school, I felt a nudge in my soul. Maybe I'm not wrong to feel this way, because we're not made for summer breaks and endless leisure and no responsibilities.
We were made for the harvest.

For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.
1 Corinthians 3:9

Breaks are absolutely necessary and encouraged. My children needed this time with their dad; I know that. My husband needed this time with us. My heart needed this season of togetherness for us.
And then I needed to get back to work.

You see, I have been guilty of letting my fields lie fallow all summer. I took the term "summer break" too literally. I took breaks from working out like I should have. I took breaks from keeping up with housework like I should have. I took breaks from cooking my family proper meals like I should have. I took breaks from doing my morning Bible studies like I should have.

I put my personal projects and my tasks on hold so I could hold my babies; and while I am not for one hot minute saying that is a bad thing, I've got to tell you, moms---that is only one of our jobs!
Our babies will grow up to be fellow workers, too.

They need to see us relishing in our work and not just yearning for our breaks.

((Insert the sound of truth bombs exploding everywhere.))

We live in a world that sings "Summertime and the livin' is easy," but we serve a God that made the summertime; and He says "Wake up and look around! The fields are already ripe for harvest.."

Break time is over, thank goodness. The work is here. I am ready for it, because I was born for it. We all were, my friends.

Hooray for back-to-school. Hooray for getting back to business.