New Addition

A common occurrence within my life seems to be the unexpected. I like the surprises and sometimes I can even enjoy the misfortunes in the journey more than others along the way. This particular unexpected surprise has been enjoyable as well as good training ground for my patience. When a coworker named Peggy came to me with excitement having the perfect dog for me I could not help but be intrigued.

I love my dear little dachshund, Tsali. She has been my dearest companion these last five years offering unconditional faithful affection. We have been through many transitions and tears and joy and expeditions and adventures together. However, Tsali loves constant attention which I cannot offer because of work. Not until I moved in with my sister and her dog, Stella, did I realize Tsali likes having a four-legged friend nearby behaving much better. Well, my sister is on the road much of the time with Stella by her side leaving Tsali to herself again. Also, since I know my sister and I will not be roommates much longer I have been in search for Tsali's perfect friend.

What dog would be best for Tsali?

Though I adore Stella her rat terrier tendencies can often be overwhelming for myself and Tsali. My other roommate has a Canon/Spitz mix. Iko, a wonderful medium-size black and white pleased with anyone makes for a good companion that even Tsali appreciates. However, Iko is larger with higher energy possessing a lot of fur. The shedding would be a problem for me and I must admit though I have always considered myself a "big dog" person my personality has adapted for Tsali. Smaller dogs are easier to manage and more convenient for travel.

Peggy came to work a few hours before she was due to clock-in to show me my "perfect dog." I rushed out to Peggy's vehicle to my possible match. What Peggy pulled out caught me off guard. The dog, Peggy called Brownie, looked as if she could be mixed with yorkshire, dachshund, rat terrier breed then threw in the body of a cat, the mouth of a monkey, the ears of a fox not to mention it was like a crazy hair stylist grabbed hold of her hair to add splashes of bleached highlights through out her coat. (Just kidding). Apart from the strange appearance we seemed to make a connection. Her loving personality could not deter her from being unattractive. Her soft brown looked straight through me. All I knew to was, "It will depend how Tsali likes her." With that we arranged a date "Brownie" could stay with me to make better acquaintance with Tsali

My sister was willing to pick "Brownie up for me. All three dogs had time to interact before I came home from work. The first matter of business was to give her a name. I wanted to her a hebrew of greek name for the meaning "hope." Greek is not the prettiest of languages and hope in hebrew is pronounced "tiqwah." I went through the hebrew dictionary trying to find something workable. In the meantime, Maury called her Samantha. It was also apparent that Samantha/Brownie/Tiqwah needed to be potty trained. She made no hesitation to relieve herself on our floors. Since, there were already two dogs and myself name's beginning with the s-sound Samantha could not stick. Out of frustration to find a name that sounded well to me I called her Mariah, in hebrew spelled Moriah, meaning bitterness.

Moriah is absolutely a warm and loving dog. Peggy had rescued her from a abusive family that was hoping she would "get lost." Considering her early mistreatment and trauma and lack of affection she shows no signs of difficulty. Thanks to the example of my dog and my sister's Moriah is quickly understanding the outdoors are used for her restroom. Tsali walks along side Moriah to assist my commands. Stella shows Moriah how to play and execute tug-of-war. Moriah warmly walks up to any stranger anticipating a belly rub. She likes to chew on sticks and pine cones, but is not destructive. I am never concerned about her wondering away, yet she is always ready for an adventure. Moriah loves hikes trying to stay in the lead and is proving to be quite the jumper from rock to rock. Though she is a full-on puppy- rather clumsy and spastic when she becomes excited- she is also a mature puppy saving her energy for outside and compliant to my instruction. She is a quick learner that I believe helps by having other good dogs to watch.

Tsali has not become the best of buds with Moriah, but she did not instantly like Stella either. I am aware it will take plenty of time for the two to be completely excepting of each other. I am also utterly confident this is the best companion for Tsali. As I step further into school demanding more book hours as well as working full time quality time for Tsali will be limited. It is my hope that being apart of a pack will make my absence more endurable.

I hate to separate myself from Tsali wishing I could have a job where she could join, but that option has not opened up. Besides, I enjoy watching Moriah experience life for the first time as a nuance. Her reactions to all new experiences are priceless. I am her haven from the world she knew. Moriah is my appreciation for the life that is ever changing always bringing new surprised and gifts along the journey.

Winters Last Stand

The wonders of the unpredictable weather astounds me watching as seasons become unrecognizable. Just last week I was romping in shorts and a tank top while local college girls modeled newly acquired bikinis and guys exercised shirtless. Purchasing a cold milkshake became a frequent antidote to sooth a hot throat. Even my dog, Tsali, could be caught panting from the sun's unrelenting heat. One week later, or more preciously, four days from experiencing 75ºF temperatures, it is now 20 degrees with the wind chill factor being 15ºF while thick wet snow blankets the High Country of North Carolina whispering rumors of 4-8 inches to fall. Once the mornings were filled with chirping birds. Now the silence of wind fills the air.

A conversation made earlier with my mother explains this is merely Dogwood Winter, but thats for Middle Tennessee. Here we are experiencing a blizzard. I know I will cause some head shakes with this comment, but all this snow during the week the UN is discussing the dangers of Global Warming I find rather ironic. Just so I can add my two cents since I am the one who has control of my words here- Is it possible the Earth goes through natural cycles, like the Ice Age. Last winter Russia suffered from record breaking cold temperatures. This winter while the majority of the Rocky Mountain Range was left neglected of its usual snow coverage the mountains of New Mexico relished the best ski season in years.

However, apart from the strange weather patterns, it seem particularly symbolic that so much beauty, so much growth entered by spring can be completely smothered by the unyielding weight of coldness.

I turn looking around to see this pattern evolving within several aspects of life, particularly my own. By the mere day to day routine of life if one is not equipped or prepared an unforeseen storm could collapse the soul: The factors of growing old. Allowing materialism to dictate decisions. Insincere faithfulness in relationships. Lack of character to overcome trials. Desire of power and control. Unmotivated steps to more forward. Distracted emotions deterring from truth. Selfishness preventing vision beyond a nose.

The snow clouds roll in to burry the growing life no longer seen, no longer acknowledged. THe blossoms once vibrant and pure are now choked by coldness, defeat, and fear. When the snow finally melts. All that remains is withered, discolored, and an unrecognizable mess. If only preparation had been made to cover the blooms. However, nature will carry on, time will pass, seasons will travel, and spring will arrive again for another opportunity of renewal.

I watch in agony the mistakes made increasing my desire to shout in panic, "Don't you see what you are doing to yourself?!" Then the snow storm like a velvet curtain falls before me. The curtain is drawn back by a cranking pulley to reveal an icy mirror. I step forward for a closer look and there I am staring back in shame. I have made the same mistakes. I have made the same poor decisions. I am crying because I did not learn from others' experiences and no one has learned from mine. I am helpless, powerless, without control standing in the bitter cold exposed as a fraud. My head hangs low. I can see no more.

The winter curtain sweeps to a close removing the dense anguish that stung my soul. The deep snow disappears to pronounce the mountains and blue sky and sun. Hope has risen bringing a new morning within reach. The snow melts unveiling what once stood bold. As the winds summon the warmth from the South. As the sun rises higher in power and comfort- I feel opportunities for new days. Hope for second chances. A path cleared to move forward.

Shapes of Love

When I first decided to write on the topic of love I had intended to discuss the difficulties of seeking romantic relationships, particularly my failures at dating. I seem to have been dating the guys for the wrong reasons. Instead though, I need to to take a few steps back to understand and grasp what and where love is.

If you can get past the fact that the movie How to Make an American Quilt is a chick flick it actually offers some very insightful realistic perspectives of love. Through the individual stories for the search of true love the characters learn love can mold into other forms: the unbreakable bond of sisters, the cherished passion for a daughter, the remembrance of a stranger/friend/soulmate, and a love missed in one's self.

I like the idea of love. I like the idea of growing old with someone. I like the idea of making and sharing memories. I like the idea of always having assurance to love and hold someone. I like the idea of experiencing a moment together and elbowing him in the gut to confirm the appreciated sight. However, I am also realizing the older I become the more accustomed I am to my single independent ways. On the other hand, the more I spend my life single the more I feel alone. Yet, the list I stated above does not mean to be restricted to one individual.

I am noticing I need to be comfortable with my singleness to truly grab hold of who I am and what I need rather than adapt for someone's needs and wants because I am too weak and insecure to be myself. A moment in time to focus on priorities of what has been given to me and to who I need to be thankful.

But just to play the Devil's advocate, is it possible we are all immature towards love leading to marriage through the courting process? Is it possible that true undeniable love cannot be accomplished until at least 50 years of marriage? Because by then you have proven the vows "through sickness and in health." By then it has been demonstrated the bond glued by love is so strong not even the concept of divorce can taint it.

No matter how much I may think I am ready for the leaps and bounds of matrimony I continue to prove I am not. Therefore, my love must be distributed equally to establish what I need to be securely to prevent concentration on one selfishly.

The faces of love I see: from a overly patient sister, to the prayerful supporting parents, to the laughter of a friend, to the cherished memories of distant friends, to the unconditional attention of a dog, to the desire of photography and communication, to the pleasure of a song that moves my soul, to a stranger that offers compassionate wisdom, to the willing listening ear, to the thrill and excitement of kayaking, to the generosity of a fellow comrade, to the growing remorseful soul, to the sovereign God who makes it all possible.

I can be at peace with this because there are so many signs of love. The intimate are by far the best, but also come at a price. So if someone has been found worth the expense grab on and never let go. Until then, grow, understand, seek, be curious, and live. Live for the moments that bring the most love-a fulfilled life.