You can get your Cheek on today over at Evolution of Belief, a relatively new blog hosted by my friend Mark, where you’ll find all sorts of posts about the thorny subject of religion by a variety of contributors. I take a moment out of my hectic life to review the latest Stryper album, Murder by Pride. Evangelism isn’t what it used to be!
See you there . . .
Is there any miracle on earth to compare with that of discovering a new friend, or having that friend discover you? So much is at stake, but I will gladly risk everything to give a promising relationship a chance.
~ Alex Noble, Moments of Stillness
Dear Tweakers,
You’ve been a patient lot. For the past several weeks, you’ve stopped by my place, read my words, and left comments. Some of you are old and dear friends, and others are new, drifting in from this place or that or completely by chance. Some of you have shared words of compassion, humor, and grace, while others of you have remained in the background, sending your thoughts my way with each anonymous visit.
Our relationship has been decidedly and uncomfortably one-sided. You’ve endured the mess that has been The Cheek as-of-late with very little ROI.
So this weekend, I’m coming over. My Reader is stacked with your posts, a thousand heartfelt invitations extended to meet up and interact. And time, that heavy-handed taskmaster, is cutting me some slack. It’s slowing down just long enough for me to pull up a chair and go on a virtual whirlwind tour of Tweakerland.
No need to pick up the place or prepare any fancy meal. Save the fine linens for the other guests. I’m cool with a glass of sweet iced tea and your words and pictures. I know where most of you hang out, so getting there shouldn’t be a problem. However, if I haven’t heard from you in a while, or if you’re one of those mythical lurkers who never chime in, please leave me a comment here; I’d love to include you in my itinerary.
This afternoon, the tour begins. But first, I must take the wee one shopping for a pink leotard and some tights . . .
What I really wanted to say was how this animal had touched our souls and taught us some of the most important lessons of our lives. ‘A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours,’ I wrote. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things – a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.
~ John Grogan, Marley & Me
Sights and sounds from a really rough morning . . .
My daughter standing at the foot of my bed with tears streaming down her cheeks. My wife crying the cry that shakes the body, the soul, and the silence. My boys holding her on the couch, Ty tenderly rubbing her back as she screamed into a pillow.
Our pug Shadow had curled up in the bathroom on her forest green floor mat and slipped away during the night.
When we moved into the home we’d built, back in the Spring of 2002, one of the first things we decided we needed was a pet. Garsy’s parents breed pugs and Shadow, who’d endured a rough pregnancy that resulted in a hysterectomy, was the perfect fit. I was apprehensive at first, not sure if I wanted such a God-awful ugly dog. But she won my heart that first day . . .
. . . with that mile-long tongue and hearty yelp that lifted her front end off the ground. She’d beg for treats by standing on her hind legs and dancing in a circle. Resistance was futile.
And the kids loved her. Especially Zoe . . .
. . . who on one occasion was the benefactor of Shadow’s protective nature. Our old neighbors owned a pit bull, a dog made mean by years of teasing and abuse. He was chained in the yard one day, dancing and barking and watching Zoe play with a ball on our driveway. When the ball got away from her and went into their yard, he snapped his chain and came running. Being a kid, and the dog being a big bruiser of a dog with a reputation for playing rough, she freaked out and started running.
Between the two stepped Shadow. She lost . . .
. . . and took a bite to the chest. Her yelps, and the screaming, alerted the neighbor, who came running to break up the confrontation.
Shadow had become the family hero by doing what comes natural. Isn’t that the way it is with most heroes?
Eleven years. That’s old for a pug with a go-getter attitude. We’ll miss her dancing around the breakfast table begging for pancakes. The way she’d nudge my leg and then flop down and roll over in anticipation of a belly-scratchin’. Her favorite spot, under my wife’s desk near the vent, is now vacant.
But our hearts and minds are filled with her presence. That’s my girl . . .
When love is not madness, it is not love.
~ Pedro Calderon de la Barca
Home at 2:30 this morning. Finished reading a chapter and turned off the light at 3:00. And instead of grabbing my favorite huggy pillow off the floor and drifting away, I rolled over and embraced my wife.
I caressed her cheek. Brushed the hair from her forehead. Ran my hand down the length of her side and let it rest on the curve of her hip. Felt each shiver. And I thought about things we’ve been through during these 20+ years together . . .
Our first night as husband and wife, when we fell asleep on the floor of her grandmother’s cabin. In the early part of the evening of a very long day. How we held each other so tightly under a handmade quilt, having vowed before a great cloud of witnesses to never let go. Following the birth of each of our four children. Even when she would have rather been sleeping, or throwing up, we held each other. At funerals, weddings, and crappy movies. Effortless embraces that carried the weight when words were used up or out of place. Thousands of times between the first and this morning. Each one – whether visceral, frisky, or subliminal – a touch, a point of contact between physical presence and myriad circumstances.
Today, I have to tell her that I’m being laid off. Again. I imagine we’ll hold each other. And though mixed with tears and worries, it will feel like love. Like an unspoken commitment to make things work. She will bear the emotional brunt upon a backbone made of stuff stronger than steel. And in her embrace I’ll find the courage to get out of bed in the morning. If I can convince her to let me go . . .
Jason of DadCentric fame invited me to write a guest post for the site today, so you can get your Cheek on here.
A big thank you to Jason and the gang for letting me play in their pool . . .
