Tag: beauty

Jesus Did Not Die for a Doll

Our little one was having trouble getting to bed tonight. I put her down once to find she was shrieking rather hysterically, so decided to nurse her again hoping it would calm her enough to go to sleep, but when I put her down she just cried and cried. All the usual techniques we used to help her sleep at night were failing. When I came in a few minutes later to check on her and retrieve my debit card for a quick trip to the shop, my husband came in too and noticed she had her fingers in her mouth.

“Must be teething.” he said, and picked her up to sooth her. 

“Should I just bring her with me?” I wondered allowed, thinking maybe the outing would calm her and tire her out so that she could actually sleep when we got home.

“Well, I guess you could.” replied my other half, doubtfully, then shrugged. “Why not?”

As I made my way through town a few minutes later with Little Miss on my chest and Prim at my side, i heard a man’s voice to my right saying, “Sorry, excuse me.” 

I wasn’t sure he was speaking to me and was a bit wary because it was after 8 in the evening, but turned to look at him.

“I thought you had a little doll there.” 

I laughed.

“No, she’s a real baby.” 

“I see that. SHe’s beautiful.” he said then.

“Thank you.” 

“She’s smiling at me.” He sounded delighted.

“She’s a very social girl.” I told him. “SHe’s rejected her bed time tonight so I decided to bring her out with me.” 

The man chuckled. “I’m with her. I reject my own bedtime most nights.”

“Me too.” I smiled.

“Have a lovely evening.” He moved to go on his way. I wished him the same and walked on, giving my “little doll” a light kiss on the head and holding her socked foot briefly in my palm. 

You are so beautiful, my daughter, but infinitely more precious than a doll. You bear the image of your father and I, but more than that you bear the image of your creator, and though you, like your parents, are a sinner, you are made even more precious by the fact that Jesus died to give you the opportunity to be reconciled to God, and made truly perfect. Never forget how loved you are, my darling girl. Never forget the blood that has been shed for you, mine, and far more importantly, Christ’s. 

You are valued by an infinite God, and he calls you to love and serve him all your days. Do it with joy, my darling, because you know that he cares for you, enough to give himself on a cross, enough to endure the wrath of God on your behalf, enough to take the punishment that you deserved for your wrongdoing. Jesus became accursed for your sake, and thus you, my love, are marked eternally, infinitely valuable, because the one true and mighty God has called you worthy of his immeasurable sacrifice. 

I pray that you would know this, one day, and come to love with ever increasing passion the God who loved you first.. I pray that he would speak into your heart even now, as you dream your little infant fancies, that he would speak to your heart tomorrow as we go through our day together, that he would work through every day that we get the privilege of knowing and raising you, so that you will come to know the joy of new birth in Christ through the power of his redeeming work on the cross. You are as beautiful as a doll, but Jesus did not die for a doll. He died for you.

The Symbiosis of the Guide Dog Team

I am often asked questions about the nature of my relationship with my guide dog.  A topic we frequently touch on is the interdependence of it.  I like to point this out to people, because no one is surprised that I depend on my guide dog.  After all, she is my eyes, in a sense… but they usually don’t think  about the fact that my dog depends on me, too.

My guide dog does have a lot of responsibility, especially for a dog.  Prim protects me.  She keeps me from walking into traffic, or stepping off the edge of a platform or stage.  She navigates me smoothly around things in our path, and shows me when there is an obstacle like a parked car or construction barrier obstructing our way entirely.  Prim provides for me.  She helps me find landmarks like doors, steps, trashcans, and chairs, and is a source of ever-present laughter and comfort besides.

But like with any other dog, I have a great deal of responsibility as Prim’s partner and handler.  I protect Prim.  I make intelligent decisions about when to cross the street, and think about Prim’s physical and emotional safety in any given environment.  There are some places I simply do not take my guide dog due to risk of injury or discomfort.  Crowded bars and loud concerts are just two examples of places where paws could be too easily trampled and ears too easily overwhelmed.  There have also been situations where I had to physically protect my guide dog when she was in danger of being attacked by another canine.  I provide for Prim.  I feed her, groom her, take her outside, take her to the vet for medical care, and of course have the enormous pleasure of being her primary playmate and cuddle buddy.

It’s a relationship of giving, not 50/50, but 100/100.  Of course, we both fail, but the beauty is that not only do we both provide and protect, but we also persevere.  There are days I am convinced I have a two-year-old child on a leash, and there are days that Prim is convinced she will starve to death because we get home late and I forgot to throw her dinner in my backpack, but I keep loving her even after she throws tantrums about not being able to eat the cat, and she keeps loving me after I feed her an hour or two later than our schedule dictates.  In that way, it is undoubtedly a symbiosis of sorts, but not a symbiosis of chance, rather one of choice.  Primie, I’m so glad I get to choose you.

Thankful for Birdsong

I’m a musician, and melody is a constant presence in my life.  My roommates can attest to that.  They often comment, or tease, about my humming, and singing, and piano improvising at all times of the day, and occasionally the night.  I think maybe that’s what makes me appreciate birdsong so much.  They are participating in the same music-making that fuels my energy from hour to hour, and it’s life-giving, enchanting, even.

It reminds me of all the Disney princesses that make friends with birds.  Cinderella, Snow White, Mary Poppins (although she’s not exactly a princess), either way they all have this magically musical relationship with winged whistlers of various varieties, and in a way it’s quite representative of the reality.  There is something magical about it, an animal that can produce music at will, and does so as a regular part of their routine.  There aren’t many other animals like that.  May it serve as a reminder to make magic with our own music in our own routines.