Dog Bite

My dog bit me.

My gentle dog has changed. He's old, and a bit senile. He isn't the loving animal he was a few months ago. He lunged at me so fast I couldn't escape.

I know it is time for him to go. I don't want to accept that.

That was two weeks ago. My hand still throbs. I had surgery  that left an open wound. I have to clean and pack it every day. I'm taking two antibiotics (so much for the belief that a dog's mouth is clean!). The skin is peeling on my injured hand, much like a sunburn. I can't go back to pool therapy until it heals.

The open heart surgery was a piece of cake compared to this.

I haven't had my nails done in weeks. I haven't been able to work.

I try to limit the pain pills. The Vicodin didn't do as much as the Tylenol/aspirin concoction I've resorted to, but Tylenol makes me sleepy. 

I sleep a lot. When I sleep, I don't think about losing my Rocco. I don't hurt. The land of dreams is a peaceful one.

I want to spend my days being cradled like a child cuddles her favorite teddy bear. I don't want to think right now.

The past year has been in the top five of the worst years ever. It hasn't been all bad, but it certainly has been a test of my faith, and also a test of my stamina. I know some of it is Satan's way of challenging me. I don't claim to be the good person that Job was, but I understand the story better now.

I don't mean to whine, but I had to get it out before the frustration kills me. 

There are days when I see someone much more seriously ill than I am. A  young friend, only 36, lost her husband just last week. Another has worn a heart monitor for weeks. Still another has cancer, or Parkinson's or Alzheimer's. I am really very lucky.

When I meditate and pray today, I need to do it with a new attitude.

Thanks for listening.

Crawdad Soup

I really should wait until after I've tried it to pass judgement, but the chef says he's gonna do all the cleaning of the crayfish (thank God, or we'd be all night!), and all we have to do is enjoy.

I'm looking forward to it. I've tasted crayfish at my adventurous son's insistence (and calamari at the other son's begging , for which I am immensely grateful). While not exactly lobster, they are certainly not inedible.

It's Mardi Gras--"Fat Tuesday", the day before Lent begins. It's the last day of indulgence before the sacrifices of the Lenten season. I haven't decided what I'm giving up for Lent. Perhaps it will be crawdad soup.

More likely, I will go as I have been doing the last couple of years, enjoy the entertainment and overdo on the jambalaya.

In spite of much newly-awakened spirituality, I cannot call myself a "good Christian".  I can be self-indulgent instead of self-sacrificing. I am not nearly as humble as I should be. I like the material things of my life as much as I enjoy the peace of the nave on Sunday morning. I try to control my anger, not well sometimes. I find my foot in my mouth. Stuff happens.

I can't remember ever giving up anything for Lent. I see it as a meaningless gesture, something most people whine about instead of embracing (it is not a sacrifice if we tell everyone about it just so they can say "how wonderful" we are). So we give up something we enjoy for a month or so, and think about Easter time when we can have it again. Do we ever give up anything that will truly be a sacrifice, or just something for the sake of it? No sacrifice on our part (not even giving up chocolate) is  the same as the sacrifice Jesus made.

I'm beginning to sound sacrilegious, aren't I?

I'm not trying to. I've come to see Christianity in a different light, right or wrong. I have many friends who don't believe as I do, some who do not believe at all.

It is not my job to change them. It is up to me to make my life an example, not by being a saint in human form, but to be myself with all my flaws and all my faith right up front.

So I will go to Mardi Gras, think about seeing it live someday in New Orleans. I will enjoy tasting the crawdad soup and the jambalaya and nibbling at pastries. I will celebrate every day of my life as I wish, thanking God for this extension of the life I nearly lost, making amends to anyone I have hurt and giving of myself as best I can.

If there's any left. I'll try to smuggle you some crawdad soup.