New Years

Today the sky was blue. The field was gold. I took pictures and I will post them soon. :)

Have I mentioned that I am so excited for 2013 to be over? :)

My life is a journey and every year holds growth and milestones, troubles and stumbles, and laughter and relationships. This year was... something like that. On steroids.

I lost several of my closest friends, not to see again until heaven. I made a few new ones. People have shown me more compassion and kindness than I knew to exist on this planet. I was entrusted with more important work than I ever thought I could do. I had some bad days. Worst days. I felt alone. And I was never alone. People have shared with me some stories that have shaped my life for good.

I've been thinking about why this is such an occasion, this new years thing. Do I think that new year will be void of troubles, of pain, or of loss? I want a new planet. I want my day in Heaven. Surely 2014 will not be that day of rest I dream of. :(  Despite the unknown, I DO know there are at least some difficult anniversaries on their way. Next year will be hard too.There will be moments of rest, I hope, but the journey continues. What is it that i am waiting for? What do i really want? What new planet am I wishing upon a star for?

I was watching a movie about one of my favorite stories.The Martian Child. There is a line from David in there that sums up how I really feel deep inside about this 2013 being over and 2014 beginning. "Dennis, can I just say one last thing about Mars? - which may be strange coming from a Science-Fiction writer - But right now, you and me here, put together entirely of atoms, sitting on this round rock with a core of liquid iron, held down by this force that seems to trouble you, called gravity, all the while spinning around the sun at 67,000 miles an hour and whizzing through the milkyway at 600,000 miles an hour in a universe that very well may be chasing its own tail at the speed of light; And admist all this frantic activity, fully cognisant of our own eminent demise - which is our own pretty way of saying we all know we're gonna die - We reach out to one another. Sometimes for the sake of entity, sometimes for reasons you're not old enough to understand yet, but a lot of the times we just reach out and expect nothing in return. Isn't that strange? Isn't that weird? Isn't that weird enough? The heck do ya need to be from Mars for?"

What the heck do I want from Mars for?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.


There are minutes until the New Year Celebration. When I celebrate the fact that for some strange reason, we reach out and expect nothing in return, in every year, even the ones with unlucky numbers. 

And I don't have to "wait" to celebrate that. I can use those minutes well. I have a lifetime between then an now.

Molly Mahoney: Great. Well done. Now we wait.

Mr. Magorium: "No. We breathe. We pulse. We regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. 37 seconds, well used, is a lifetime."

As the Great Mr. Magorium said. "Your life is an occasion. Rise to it."

It's Just For Today

I am struggling to find the words to explain what's going on with me.

I'm seeing my world in poetic fragments today. So I'll just tell you what I see.

I like that field. It's gold. Golden. Golden like Gar. When the sky is blue, just above the golden waves, it looks like the hills go on forever. Like the Golden stalks shine pillars that fill the space between the dirt and the sky. Not today. The sky is gray today. The field ends. It's just a field. And the sky is so far. So far away.

Her grave is covered in leaves. I uncover it. I pull out weeds. I go to pull out the grass that is starting to grow there too. I stop. I guess I want it there someday. Someday there will be grass covering her grave. Someday. Today it is just dirt.

My key still fits.

Hello. Hello nothing. I thought I was done with you. Christmas eve, one year ago You took over my world. No hope. There was no relief from you, in living. No relief in dying. Only option was in disappearing. I hadn't the power to do that. All I could do was keep breathing. All I could do was keep breathing. Today there is relief in living. But you're still here, nothing. Nothing. Nothing is close. Let me fill you. I don't have much. You must be cold. Have my memories. Wrap them around you. No, wait, give them back. I don't have enough for us both. Not enough to fill you. Nothing you'll stay for now. Nothing, Tell me about yourself. Why are you here? When will you leave? When will you change? When will I have enough? Nothing.

There is another friend I miss a lot. We have a song. Gone Gone Gone by Phillip Phillips. Yeah. What he says. A day in Heaven seems so far away. I wish you could write back when I write. I miss our frogs. Someone check on them? Make sure the lighter and smaller one is safe. Please.

It's just one day.

You'll see.

She Wants Him To Be Happy

Here’s another new favorite real Christmas story of my life. It is a story within a story. Like Storyception. This one is brought to you by my Grandpa Ferrell’s Family Christmas Party.

This Christmas will be our fourth Christmas as a family without my Grandma. The past Christmases at Grandpa’s house has seemed to be more like going through the motions, mingled with a couple moments of feeling my grandma near. This year has been pretty different.

This year, Grandpa put up the Celestial tree.

This year Grandpa is a different and even better man.

This year Grandpa has a very different and yet very special lady in his life.

The Celestial tree was a sacred tree for my Grandma. I’m not sure I know the whole story about the Celestial tree but there are a few things I do know. One, It is the purest white of all trees with white lights, white ornaments, and you know it’s sacred when you see it in the corner of the living room. Two, we put the gifts we are giving to Christ underneath its branches. And three, we haven’t seen the Celestial tree since Grandma died. I have so many memories of grandma’s special Christmas stories around the Celestial tree while all of us grandchildren sat on the floor in front of her. One story was a particular tradition, but I’ll let Aunt Denise tell you about it later in the story.

At our fun family party, Grandpa asked for our attention before he blessed the food. The room went quiet. Even with a full house and many small great-grandchildren, everyone knows that when Grandpa is about to say something, you better listen because whatever story comes out of his mouth will amaze, inspire, and change your life. Everyone also knows that when Grandpa is about to say something, you better get cozy, because it will probably be a while. But I don’t think any of us mind too much.

“I want all of you to know somethin’. This year, I wasn’t going to put up Christmas. I wasn’t going to put up the tree, the lights, the decorations. I wasn’t going to have a party or make any food. I was just going to let someone else do it. I didn’t want the trouble. It was just too much.

“Then LaVern asked me, ‘Neil, don’t you have any family traditions?’ I said, ‘well yeah. With Vee, we had traditions…’ Then LaVern said to me, ‘Well don’t you think you ought to keep those traditions going, for your family?’ I thought about that and I knew I felt the Spirit telling me I needed to do it. I didn’t really want to and it was hard, but I just did it anyway because I knew it was what I was supposed to do.

“Grandma used to gather us around the Celestial tree. I put it up. Mark helped me put it together. LaVern decorated it. She used to tell all the children a Christmas story.”

Aunt Denise asked if she could tell the story. She’s a great story teller for little kids. Her eyes got wide. I could feel her mom so proud of her, carrying on her legacy for her. “Once upon a time, there was a little boy. His birthday was coming up and he was SO excited. He couldn’t wait for his big party. He had invited everyone, people from near and far, old and young, rich and poor. Finally the day of the party came. Sure enough, people from all over the world showed up for the little boy’s birthday party. They brought big gifts with bows and ribbons. Others brought smiles and small gifts. There were packages of ever size and shape and color. After everyone had arrived the people began to play games and chat with each other. But no one seemed to want to talk to the little boy. They ignored him and laughed with each other. The little boy didn’t seem to mind. He was happy they were there. But he longed to play with the others. He longed for someone to find him important enough to talk to. It was his birthday and his party after all. Finally it became time to open presents, but to his surprise, one by one, each person handed their gifts to another and others took some from others. Noise broke out with ‘That one’s mine!’ and ‘This one is for you!’ But no one gave the birthday boy any presents. The boy felt forgotten and sad. Didn’t anyone know who he was? At Christmastime, we celebrate Jesus Christ’s birthday. And here we are at this party together. Let’s remember whose birthday this is and make sure that we talk to Him, and invite him in our games and conversation. Let’s make sure that we give Him special gifts like we give to each other.”

“I have here,” said Grandpa, holding up a basket. “little pieces of folded paper. I want each of you during the night at this party some time, to go off by yourself and discuss with your Father in Heaven what you are going to give to the Savior. I want you to write it on that paper and put it in the envelope. I’m going to put them under the Celestial tree on Christmas Eve night. Now, as a Ferrell, when you write something down and say you are going to give that gift to the Lord, I expect you to really do it. It is important to me that you do what you say you are going to do. I might even follow up with you.

“I can tell you, my wonderful family, I have felt the Spirit so strong. I feel your grandma here with us. I think this, all of this, is what she wants for us. She wants us to be happy.

“She wants Me to be happy…"

Then he cried.

The rest of the story goes like this:

There is a HUGE box under the tree. It has LaVern’s name on it. It is very heavy… because it is filled with packing peanuts and a box of steel, and…

A tiny little ring box. . .

“She wants (him) to be happy.”

I'm Right Here If You Need Me

I wanted to share some true Christmas stories. Stories make my world go round. And I like em best when they are close to home. Here are a few of my favorites:

By Shauna Brown (she shared this true story from her life with me. So I will tell it in third person on here. I have her permission to share it.)

I'M RIGHT HERE IF YOU NEED ME

This particular Christmas season, Mrs. Brown had a three year old girl, Heather, an almost two year old boy, Little Scottie, and a brand new little baby girl, Sophia. Something about babies elicit fascination from all ages, and especially with little children. Heather loved her little dolly, but soon abandoned it as she found a real life bundle in a cradle. Heather and Scottie wanted to poke the baby, pinch her cheeks, and squeeze her little belly. With two arms already full, you can imagine the work that went into caring for this new little baby, brought home from the hospital only weeks before. Many a time Ms. Brown would look over and catch one or both of the children grabbing a baby leg, pulling, and trying to slip the little Sophia out of the car-seat. She worked very hard to teach them to be soft and gentle and to protect their baby sister from pokes or squeezes.

It was Christmas eve morning and Mrs Brown was busy about in the kitchen getting the house ready for the festivities to come. Sophia was in a car-seat cradle on the kitchen table. Little Scottie was carefully trying to get a good look, grabbing at her legs when Mrs. Brown was looking away. Mrs. Brown stopped at the sink and told Heather and Scottie that she needed some help. She lifted the baby seat from the table and placed it carefully in the center of the living room.

"Be soft and gentle. Please don't poke her or squeeze her. I need some help to watch Sophia. Can you both watch her for me?" The two nodded with seriousness and excitement. Heather kneeling on one side, Little Scottie sitting on the other. "Okay," Mrs. Brown said, "I'm right here if you need me." She walked back into the kitchen and continued to cook and clean.

There was no other sound that gripped the heart of Mrs. Brown like the chatter of little children. She listened to their conversation while she did her work. She felt an overwhelming happiness. The kind when you swear you've found heaven in a moment. She even felt a change in the atmosphere and she stopped working to take it in. Then she listened again to the little chatter of her children.

"Hewoh, Did you know vat dis is My baby sistow?" said Heather. "It mine, mine too" said little Scottie. "Wook. Wook at her wittle feet." Said Heather. "She cames fwom Heaven," Said Scottie.

Mrs. Brown stopped. She felt excitement rise within her and she walked carefully into the living room. She knew the children were not talking to each other, they were talking to someone else. She turned the corner and saw the three children, just as she had left them. Heather and Scottie looked up with smiling faces. She thought she knew, but Mrs. Brown had to ask, "Who were you two talking to?" "Jesus," they replied together. She smiled at the three little angels before her and walked tearfully back into the kitchen. She was so grateful for the blessing of children and how close to the veil they are.

She also was overcome with a painful weight on her shoulders. "I have been trying so hard to do everything I can to be close to the spirit and 'be like a little child.' Why can't I see Him?" She cried to herself and to God.

She heard the little voices continue in the living room. She felt overwhelmed by the task to raise these three little children. She felt inadequate and a little alone. Then a still, small, voice came to her mind, "I'm right here if you need me..."

"I'm right here if you need me. I'm right here."

The end.

Compassion

For my Doctrine and Covenants class, we have to do a special project where we pick a doctrine that is important to us and we spend at least 10 hours studying it, then we write a one page paper on it (yeah... try cramming 10 hours of study into one double-spaced page), then we devise an experience or project that allows us to consistently interact with the doctrine we chose, and then we create something tangible to memorialize our experience. We grade ourselves and she ultimately goes with what we say unless she totally disagrees. This is one of those projects where you can get an A and take little away from it or get and A and let it change your life.

Last winter semester, I took a different class from this same wonderful professor and the project requirements were the same. I was doing well just to go to class last winter so, my project was a last minute, inconsistent, throw together that got me an okay grade only because my professor cared enough to know what was going on in my life, and she said I had done the best that I could do, so she added points to the grade I thought I deserved. Bless her. I don't even remember what my project was six months ago, that's how "life-changing" it was, unfortunately.

This time around, I wanted to really make it count. I really wanted to be changed. I wanted to make up for what I couldn't do before. So I really got into it. My topic started out with the broad doctrine of Conversion. As I dove into it, the Spirit guided me to more specific things I needed to work on and feel. Here is my journey and what I did for my experience.

As I tried to think of ways to be more fully converted, one aspect stuck out to me: Part of being fully converted is to desire a relationship with God and to look unto Him in all things. I noticed that I had a major issue with putting the Lord first, especially when it came to my fears. I'd have a tough conversation and worry and worry and worry about all the other people involved and my relationships with them, but I was not concerned or even thinking about my relationship with my Savior. I wanted to work on that.

So I began noticing when I would find myself in those places (worrying about things without seeking a relationship with the Lord), and I would stop and write in my journal about all my worries so I could see them from the outside. Then I would follow a format that was informed by my 10 hours of study and my paper. I would pray, study, forgive, or repent/repair. Then I would watch for the blessings that come from using those converting tools. Then I would commit to what every convert commits to (but a specific action related to the issue at hand), to serve and lead others to Christ, to no more desire to do evil, but to do good continually, and to continue the process. The point of this very structured format was to retrain my brain to deal with tough things differently.

Throughout this process, I learned something even more specific that I needed to do. I needed to connect with compassion before I could find a desire to convert. My heart felt quite left out of the format and was frankly uninterested and even bitter towards the "recipe" I was trying to follow. I learned that without this key "heart" ingredient, the format was not a tool, it was a vice. I needed to feel compassion from Christ. I needed to know that He even cared that I was having a hard time, even if it was only a short awkward conversation that was bothering me. I also needed to show more compassion to myself. But to learn more self-compassion, I needed to learn how from the Master. So I found a way to include this aspect of compassion into my formatted routine, then I was getting my heart involved in what my head was attempting to accomplish.

Since I came to college, I've tried to do this thing that helps me when I'm at my lowest and yet have to get things done or help other people also having a hard time. I imagine myself worn and broken and tired (usually how I am feeling in those moments) and I see my imaginary self fall to my knees and look up to Heaven. Then I feel myself beginning to float upward towards a bright light amidst the darkness, towards the Savior. He just looks at me. We don't say anything, He just looks right to the core of me. If the look He gives could speak words, I imagine they would say, "I know you are hurting, I feel it too. It hurts. And I'm so glad you came here to feel it with me." He holds my face in His hands and just holds me for a few minutes. Then I have to go and do what I need to do, but that feeling of compassion radiating from my Savior sticks and I feel the love still as I return back to the ground and the challenges. I learned recently that a similar exercise is actually used in psychotherapy to teach self-compassion, interestingly enough. It makes a huge difference in the level of hope I feel and the motivation I have to keep going strong. Mostly, it keeps me from being paralyzed by whatever I am dealing with. I just didn't use it very often because it was kind of a worse-case-scenario, used only when there was no one around who could hold me and be that for me. Again, trusting far too much on the arm of flesh OVER my Father in Heaven.

After every journal entry, as part of my study/prayer, I would sit and visualize this scene and try to connect with the compassion it evokes. God speaks right to me through this exercise. It's like packing an emotional lunch. That compassion can last a good chunk of even the hardest days. I learn to be more compassionate to myself and to others by feeling His compassion for me. And suddenly, I crave a relationship with Him first and foremost. Relationships with others are certainly just as important as they were before, but they feel healthier and appropriately important, instead of "all there really is," like it had felt before. Boom, the format became a meaningful journey instead of a to do list.

This project has been going on officially since the first week of October and I have already seen the fruits from this conversion process. Because of a visualization I did to prepare for a late night work shift on a hard day, I had the energy and the sensitivity to the Spirit to prevent a complete stranger from ending her life. I have seen new friends emerge out of no where because I wasn't so afraid of what they think of me...as much. Most of the time I feel my current relationships are mutual and healthy, and not the be-all-end-all. I can sit with hard feelings, AND I can appropriately share them with others to some degree, hopefully without being overwhelming or demanding. I still like to be held, but if it doesn't work out that way, I can still feel God holding me and that is good enough a lot of the time.

I have come a long way, yes?

My final tangible memento is my journal, but I wanted something even more special.

I drew my visualization. I've never drawn faces from scratch before, so it isn't perfect, but yet, it's....Perfect.

It is entitled, "Compassion." His face is meant to say to you, "I know you are hurting. I feel it too. It hurts. And I'm glad you came to me to feel it with you, because I have the power to heal you." I hope you can see the empathy and care in His brow and his eyes. I hope you can see the confidence in his gaze. I hope you can see His love, relief, and gratitude in the slight smile.

There is so much happiness in my life. Maybe some days more or less than others. I laugh a good hour or more a day collectively (especially on Research Lab Meeting days). I don't hurt all the time. I have fun. I enjoy what I do.

AND still

It's okay to hurt. It's okay to reach out. It's okay to heal. It's okay to feel compassion. It's okay to give compassion to yourself through Him. I always knew this and would teach this, but my execution and lived experience of this idea left me wanting. This project has allowed me to really get in there and do it. Now I feel like I can walk the walk (occasionally) almost as well as I can talk the talk. I thank the Lord for inspired teachers, for the Atonement that allows  me to see true empathy in Christ's eyes, and for the power of compassion to change lives, turn hearts, and save souls, even mine. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Trust Is Still Very Alive

A new theme in my life has made it's appearance widely known in my life recently. It seems to stare me in the face from all angles. Trust in Relationships.

Now to get real and vulnerable... please don't criticize me in your head. . . which just shows my insecurity right there. I can't even write on my blog without being afraid that my relationships aren't really to be trusted with the vulnerable parts of me. Goodness, I'm ridiculous. ;) Please bear with me.

Okay, here it is. I'm just going to own it. I have an extremely difficult time trusting my relationships. There is a very loud voice in my head that continually tells me. "They don't really care. They're just being nice. They talk about you and your issues behind your back. They secretly wince and feel drained at seeing your name pop up on their e-mail inbox or phone. They may have liked you yesterday, but today they know you better and they realize that you are a needy, immature, attention-seeker."

 Some people's voices are perfectionists like Martha Stewart. Some are like Monk. Some are called E.D. and are obsessed with outward appearances. My voice has a name too, it's Jen.

Now, I am aware that this voice is a voice of fear, not necessarily truth. So, my usual response to this voice is this: "Stop. That's not helping. You, voice, are the reason I am draining, immature, needy, and attention-seeking. How to shut you up? I am a good person. I truly care about people. I am lovable. I am thoughtful. I have purpose. I am a mature adult. I am successful. I am not perfect, but I am good. I am intelligent. I am going places in life. There are people who love me a lot, even though they may get frustrated with me from time to time, they still love me for me, because I'm not so different from them. I am not alone in my weaknesses."

Then the voice comes back again. "How can you be so sure? Have you talked to 'so and so' lately? You don't know how you come across to other people. You aren't their best friend they can't live without, so how can you be sure they really, actually, genuinely like you? Either you are the giver, or they are. You don't know how to have a good mutual relationship, you just think you do sometimes."

Then here's where it has a pretty good point. I have no idea what people are really thinking. I have no idea what they say about me and the way I relate to others when I'm not around. I better check in, just to be sure...So, I imagine conversations like this Studio C clip.  I will own it: inside my head, I am a Whitney in several relationships (not all, just the riskier ones where I have been most vulnerable). (Good thing is, Studio C did a skit on it, I must not be alone. :) )

Then I realize how insecure, immature, and unattractive, and repelling such a conversation is. It pushes people away instead of drawing them in. And besides, I know my voice probably won't be satisfied with even a positive answer, because of that one thing... Trust. That voice doesn't trust anyone. Not even me.

The voice says, "ha ha ha... told you so. Do you see what you're doing? You're doing it right now! Your little fantasy conversations! And when you actually awkwardly have some of them in real life - It is proof. You ARE needy, immature, and attention-seeking. So, if they think that about you, they've got it right. So you better just go it alone, or you'll just get hurt when they say it to your face, that you are too much, too much to care about!"

Okay. So that's the cycle. Just to be clear, this doesn't happen all the time... just quite frequently. And I don't believe it. But you have to understand how real this voice is to me. It's been around in my head since I was 12 or 13 when a woman I adored introduced it to me. You guessed it. Jen. She left it with me as a parting gift as she flat-out told me to my face, never to communicate with her again, because I was "too much" and needed psychological help.

Truth is, I was only 12. I was in distress. She was in an abusive relationship and overwhelmed emotionally. I did not deserve what she did and said, nor how she did it and said it. But the voice sides with this woman.

"She was right."

But, Jen, I didn't see it coming. It was so out of the blue and uncommon and unexpected! 

 

"It was unexpected because you are clueless to the way people perceive you. You can never know when they are lying to you when they say 'I love you.' guns are pointed at your head all around you, and you can't even see it coming, because you must be defective. And it could happen again. You can't trust anyone. You aren't as mature as they are. You will never have a mutual friend. The ones you think are mutual are lies, just like with that woman, Jen, you will find out sooner or later, that it is a lie. You aren't socially right. You are an outcast. And you aren't even aware of the danger all around you. You think those people like you? They are simply being good people, dealing with you appropriately. You think they desire and enjoy spending time with you to talk or to listen? They consider that time a sacrifice."


It's about here that I don't know what to say back. Everything the voice tells me fits well with what happened before. I conclude that the safest way is to just be a giver. No mutual relationships. Because the voice, Jen, is always in the back of my head, telling me that they don't exist, they are just a fuzzy dream that will hurt in the end.


I believe I DO have mutual relationships. But I have no logic to confound the logic of the Jen, "How can you be sure? You've been very wrong before." Relationships are messy. When they get a little messy for me, I freak out, because the voice gets all excited to tell me, "I told ya so."

So, the antidote? Trust.

The relationship I have in mind currently, wondering if it is still real, or if it is just and act, is a relationship that holds so much vulnerability in the past. It would be an enormous loss to find out that it was all fake, that almost 4 years was a lie... I have had a conversation like Whitney's with this person before. I asked, "Do you really care about me? Or is it just your JOB to care?" This person's answer bewildered me for a while. I have since understood it better, hypothetically - still working on the execution.

This person replied, "Only YOU can answer that question." And that's all they said. They didn't say "Of COURSE I do!" like I was hoping to get because this person knew my Jen voice pretty well. This person knew Jen wouldn't believe it next week even if they told the honest truth.

THEN HOW AM I SUPPOSE TO KNOW FOR SURE!? I CAN'T ANSWER THAT QUESTION! ONLY THEY KNOW THE REAL ANSWER! That frustrates me greatly. Because there is only one right answer to the question in all-caps: I'm not supposed to know for sure. I just have to trust people. There are "Jen"s in the world, people not to be trusted, but they are not as prevalent as I fear. And, there are usually warning signs on their foreheads, or tips in the giant wake that follows them. I'm not as blind or oblivious or alone as Jen the voice makes me feel sometimes.

I, Jill, hereby declare that Trust is hard. And Trust is real. And Trust is still very alive for me.

This week,
Trust is choosing to be vulnerable in relationship and finding meaning in the actions that demonstrate that choice.
Trust is writing this post - because I trust I am not alone in this struggle.
Trust is walking in, sitting down, doing my best, then walking out without a hug, handshake, or hearing the words I long to hear most.
Trust is choosing to hear the words that aren't said.
Trust is sitting on the second row, and opening my mouth sometimes.
Trust is getting up and walking on.
Trust is not studying there sometimes.
Trust is shedding a tear or two on her couch.
Trust is telling your boss a fifth grade humor joke.
Trust is being on her schedule because she says she WANTS to spend time with me.
Trust is believing in a less complicated and voice-less Heaven. Amen?
Trust is owning who I am, struggles and all.
Trust is believing that messiness is a sign of genuineness.
Trust is believing that messiness cleans itself up on its own sometimes.
Trust is giving people the benefit of the doubt that they will give me the benefit of the doubt.
Trust is forgiving myself.
Trust is believing that they forgive me.
Trust is believing that He's got it all under control.

Here's to trust - in whatever context it may struggle in!

Loyal to the Master

Today I went to my Therapy Dog final evaluation in Salt Lake with Sugar the White Golden Retriever.

We passed.

Not with flying colors. Just passed.

I am very happy. As we closed the Rehab Center doors, I could not help but squeal a bit, hug sugar and laugh as we both skipped back to the car. Cooing to Sugar, "GOOD GIRL, SUG. GOOD GIRL! WE DID IT!"

I call her Sug (Shoog) for a reason. The end of her name.

Is Gar.

There are three main ratings you can get when you leave this intense evaluation. One is what I was praying we would not get, "Not ready." Yay, we didn't get that one. The passing rating can either be "Predictable clearance" or "Complex Qualified." Each rating describes the type of facilities that the dog will be certified to enter by law. Predictable means a calm environment with few surprises and little to no risks. A complex rated facility could bring intense emotional outbursts from clients, unpredictable behaviors from clients, and potential for danger and difficult situations. I am glad we only passed with a rating of only predictable clearance, not complex. The latter rating is one that belongs alone to Gar.

I was not really thinking about Gar too much during the evaluation, though i brought her up to the evaluators every chance I got, bragging about my girl that could handle everything in the classiest of ways, mentioning that she is gone as of March. The emotion was not there however, I knew it would not help anyone. I had to be there for sugar. For they are quite different dogs and sugar deserved me to be all there with her during the stress of being evaluated on every front. She's never done this before. So I was there. Gar was in the back of my mind reminding me that I would deal with the emotion later...I would.

So, now I am. I'm just going to lay it all out. I feel happy and grateful. I feel loss. I feel proud. I feel thoughtful. I feel guilty. I feel love.

I cannot compare Sug to Gar. They are as different as their coats suggest, white and dark red. I do not judge Sug for who Gar is. I can't. I can't for so many reasons, but mostly because it's just not possible. However, I will reminisce on Gar's evaluations. She went through this training with me twice and got a complex rating both times. The judges could hardly believe this young 15 year old and a stocky red lab could handle anything they, quite literally, threw at them.

I remember that the first thing people noticed was her eyebrows. She talked with her eye-brows and she always had a lot to say about what was going on.

She taught me to be honest and yet appropriate about how I feel.

She met one lady and found the treat in her pocket right away. There are many ways to get to Gar's big heart. But one route is much faster, direct, and guaranteed - through her stomach.

She taught me to be so passionate about something that I can sense it in places others can't.

I remember when they had five different evaluators surrounding her, all petting her and talking to her to see how she would handle a crowd and lack of control and awareness to what is around her. One guy was behind her petting her and he grabbed her tail and yanked it good repeatedly. He was intentionally trying to get Gar to warn him by growling, snipping at, or retreating from him (therefore disqualifying us, but making sure that couldn't happen to a client in the future). But I was SO proud when she instinctively replied to the repeated yanking by calmly turning around to face him, sitting down so no one could yank her tail anymore, and offering him a paw, then looking to me to see if I approved of her decision. Her calm eyebrows spoke to him with a patient maturity as if to say, "excuse me sir, I don't believe we've met. Yanking my tail isn't really appropriate to me. Let's start off on a better paw." He shook her paw and laughed at her cleverness, respectful consideration, and automatic forgiveness, and yet her ability to make her own boundaries with what she was comfortable with.

Everything I've learned about boundaries and dealing with accidentally-offensive people, I learned from Gar first. She also taught me that the Master trusts me to make good decisions on my own when necessary. She taught me to be open to and ask for feedback, not get defensive.

I remember when they had the toys all over the floor and we had to walk through them from one orange cone to another and show that she could leave them alone if I told her to. That one wasn't even a challenge. She was smart enough to know what the cones meant. She knew the goal. Before we began, she looked at the things on the floor and turned her ears back to me. We were one. I knew exactly what she was saying. "Mom, I see a bunch of stuff they just put on the floor. What am I to do? Do I fetch them? Check em out? or do you even care? You don't seem to show any concern for what's concerning me. I just thought I'd bring them to your attention." I responded by an appreciative pat on the shoulder for her asking for my response and drawing my attention to the issue at hand for her. Then I said firmly, "Gar, Leave it. Let's go." Done. Let's go means go forward With me, attentive to my every move to learn our goal. She knew the goal was the cone. We got there together and she didn't even look at the toys on the ground.

Gar taught me that when I find myself in a confusing situation, all I have to do is pray to the Master, letting Him know my concerns. The Master may not explain the situation to me, but He will focus  me on the goal and invite me to walk with Him, one step at a time so the confusion becomes irrelevant.

I remember when the evaluators put her in a restraining hug to the point that her throat was closed off somewhat. They wanted to see how we might handle such a situation in a facility with clients. I remember, Gar looked  at me steadily for a few seconds, letting me know that she didn't like it, but apparently this was required of her. Then she began to wheeze and she flashed me a look of distress. I stepped in gently and convinced the lady to pet Gar instead. The lady let her go, Gar took a deep breath, shot me a look of gratitude, and turned to the lady, stared into her eyes, and offered a paw.

Gar taught me that sometimes people suffocate and drain others because there is something they need so desperately, that they feel the need to take it anyway they can for as long as they can. They don't believe what they need can be given, or that it will be there for long. Most importantly, they do not think they have that something in them already. Gar taught me that instead of getting angry, sometimes we just need to let them know that we can see them. And that sometimes we can GIVE best when we don't allow people to TAKE. She taught that sometimes what people need is an opportunity to give. Also, I learned that if we are in trouble, we ought to let someone know when we start to wheeze, long before we are choking and gasping for air.

I remember when the evaluator offered Gar a treat. She knew better than to take it without my permission. She had her eyes glued to that piece of kibble. She wanted it so bad. The evaluator didn't know there was a command for accepting treats so she tried to convince Gar to eat it. "Come on! Eat it! I got it for you!" Her ears flickered at her but ultimately were directed back to me. "Okay." I said and she gobbled it up faster than I think the lady was prepared for. She ate it and nosed me in appreciation then stared back at the lady for more, ears still folded back toward me.

Gar taught me that when something looks good and voices tell you it is good, it is tempting. But there is only one voice that I trust more than any other, my Master's voice. She also taught me that all good things come from the Master in the end, even if it comes from a different avenue. She taught me that the Master is to thank as much as the hand that fed. She taught me to always be listening for the Master's voice in all my contexts even when it seems safe enough without Him.

I remember on the drive home, she was glad the stress was over. She started out on the floor between my feet. Then a head on my lap. Then a head and an elbow. Then a whole leg with her head resting on it. Then two paws. Finally, I just couldn't resist. I said okay, and she climbed into my lap. Her tip of her tail twitched with contentment, and she nuzzled her nose into my neck and shoulder and took a deep sigh, licked her lips and swallowed, then closed her eyes.

She showed me that there is no safer or more peaceful place to be than in my Master's arms.

Gar teaches me a lot about how to be a good human to my Master because she was such a good dog to hers.

I miss her. I wish it was her I heard sighing and licking her lips and swallowing before a nap in the back of the car on the way home tonight. I wish it was two-toned red fur on Brenton's car's backseat. I wish there were nose smudges on the window. I wish I could be sure of who had food, candy, or cough drops in their pockets at the evaluation. I wish it was her picture that will be on my new badge.

It was hard to commit to OUR work with another dog. It is really hard. Hence a little bit of guilt. But I am doing it as a legacy of Garcelle. She was dedicated to her Master, no matter who else she was with in the room. So, in honor of that in her, I will dedicate the work I do to my Master, no matter who else is at the end of the leash. I will serve the same cause that she lived her life for. Her loyalty will not be in vain. I will show my loyalty to her, by being loyal to what she stands for.

I played at the Wall tonight as soon as I got back in town from dropping Sug off at home. I sang her song. I dedicated it to her. I still wish I could believe you when you tell me who I really am, Gar. I still wish you could tell me the way you did before. I know you know. I know you still tell me. But I know you understand. I hope I made you proud today.