All Things Dog

As I type this there are seven canines at my house. One of them belongs to my sister whom I'm dog sitting for, one to my grandmother, one to my father, one to my mother (although the dog thinks otherwise) and the other three are mine. I'm no stranger to all things canine and thankfully my family and friends both understand and embrace this facet of my personality. Movies,Books,Television, Apparel, if it involves dog I will probably enjoy it. If I see a dog I'm mostly likely going to want to go pet it and talk about it with whomever is holding the leash. I might meet a stranger but I rarely meet a strange dog. I've expounded at length on the dogs my family has owned over the years. I've written on dogs in general and why I feel they make the best pets. Dogs just make sense to me. They always have. Far as I'm concerned a house needs a dog to be home.

One of the reasons that dogs hold such sway over me is the fact that dogs are relatively simple creatures. They let you know what they want. People are confusing and can say things that don't at all convey what they mean. Dogs do not possess the ability to be anything but themselves.What you see is what you get. If a dog doesn't like you there is a slim chance that he won't show you signs to stay away. The same cannot be said for people. People have motives, dogs do not. Stay around a dog and you will observe four basic needs they will get you to meet:Food,water,play,pet. It is that simple. People are nothing like that.

I'm an introvert. Unless I know you or you are under the age of eighteen I won't find talking to you easy. I work with children and students so young people are easy to converse with, older people on the other hand are much more of a challenge. That being said with a dog around I will happily talk to people I don't know. Dogs are a great buffer for me. I can and will talk dogs with you all day. If you've got questions I've likely got answers. Breeds, training, work, play, problems it doesn't matter what it is so long as it involves a canine.

Those close to me understand how deep it runs in my veins. It is normal for me to go over to hang out with my friends and wind up with their dogs in my laps or see me rolling around on the floor wrestling with one dog or another. I was over at a friend's house recently and walked upstairs to say hello to his parents. His mother told me that they wanted to get another dog soon. The next morning I'd created a list of various breeds that fit the criteria they were looking for in a dog. Giving advice is par for the course. I love to help. It helps that I've spent most of my life reading up on dogs and have been raised around and help train a variety of breeds.

It should come as a shock to no one to discover that I'm currently hunting training schools to get my certification. While I can teach basic obedience without problem I want to be able to teach more advanced obedience and training. The more I know the more dogs I can work with. Although puppies will probably always be my favorite (who doesn't like watching a fluffy puppy realize that sitting down brings a great reward and that obeying is good) I enjoy working with older dogs and showing that an old dog can learn new tricks. Expanding my knowledge is something I've always enjoyed and the more I learn the more my own dogs benefit, not just those of future clients.

While there are many people who go to school for a long time to get two initials attached to their name I'll be in school to get three attached to mine-CDT.

Farming:A year of retrospection

We've been on the farm over a year now. I had plans to make a post on the day we'd been living here a year but life happened and the post never did. So you're getting it now. Just last week I was reminded of posts I had made about researching animals for my future farm about three years ago. It's funny how things have changed since then. The only thing I've currently got on the farm that I'd planned on having all those years ago are my Nigerian Dwarf Goats. The breeds of my sheep changed with a desire to not need to shear animals that outweigh me by a few hundred pounds. The only remaining creature that has yet to be added are bovines. We don't have a cow yet.

This last year has been one full of lessons. There's been a lot of mucking,mud,feeding,watering, and processing. We've seen animals born and lost some to predators and to our own mistakes. It hasn't been easy and it hasn't always been fun, but I wouldn't change it. Hard work is the name of the game and while it isn't a lifestyle for everyone more and more I find it the place I belong. If you'd have told me five or six years ago that I'd be happy to be at a point in my life when I couldn't be further from African soil or missions work I'd have told you that you were out of your mind. Amazing how God changes things when you really give it up. Not that I don't want to go to Africa still or do more mission trips but I've realized that I'm where I was meant to be all along, it just wasn't the way I'd have planned to get here. 

I've long since grown used to the sound of a rooster crowing before daylight and even with them outside my window I rarely wake up when they start their songs. Until winter hits and water needs to be busted, feeding and watering takes anywhere between thirty minutes and an hour depending on what needs to be done that morning. When things get cold that time will increase quite a bit but even fighting the wind and single digit temps with wind chill didn't dampen my spirits lastwinter when it came to heading to the barn to bust water and feed the goats,sheep, and pigs (the pork has since moved to the pig pen that no longer requires mucking). I like the physical work. I like walking out my door and staring out across the hills next doorthat are often filled with a mix of cattle that I can sit and watch for hours. I like to sit and watch sheep and goats wander around the pasture playing and eating and occasionally settling an argument with their heads.

We've had a garden planted and harvested completely by now and what was a thriving wonderland of produce is back to bare soil waiting to be filled again with future fruits of next years crops. The brown ground is a little sad to see after eagerly picking beans, tomatoes, peas, and corn (for the first time) but that is the changing of the seasons and it brings with it different work.

What will follow is a bunch of pictures. Many of them are not for the weak stomached. I won't sugar coat the life I've been given the opportunity to live and to some there are aspects that are gross. You've been warned.

                                                                A clean goat pen

                         A clean sheep pen (Getting both of these cleaned took several hours. )

All the manure from those two pens filled the trailer

        Compost! (One of my favorite things to do is turn waste into black gold for the garden)

 I told you some of these were not for the weak stomached. This is the inside of a quail hen we processed. The yellow things are eggs that hadn't finished developing. You're seeing the yolks . This was one of the neatest things I've seen. We had several eggs that had developed but had not been given their colors yet.

Fresh bacon that we cured ourselves from last years pig. Nothing like fresh bacon.

I don't know what yall do on your birthday but I spent mine this year learning to trim hooves thanks to my neighbor Len Young and his eldest son Lane.

This years pigs. They aren't tiny and cute like this anymore.

While the bacon is good, this is my favorite part of fresh pork;the chops.

I debated adding this picture. It isn't one I like to see. Losing Tinker is the only thing I would change this past year. It was a hard lesson to learn. She was and still remains my favorite stock to ever be brought to the farm. In reality she was more pet than stock but she was supposed to be our herd matriarch. She was a sweet girl who had a fondness for chewing your clothes if you got close and weren't paying attention. But, I told you I won't sugarcoat the life I live, good or bad. This was what solidified what I do in my mind. I got through this with a lot of tears but I did get through. If anything had made me change my mind it would have been losing her to my own negligence.

My dad with "Walter" the first stock born here. He is our Katahdin Ram. Though he's not this tiny anymore. He's just 3 months shy of being a year old. Watching him being born was one of the neatest things in the world.

My favorite farm purchase. This is HTS Arwen. I told myself I would have a border collie of my own to work my sheep. She came to the farm a few months ago and is no longer a tiny puppy. Her ears are up and she's all business when it comes to working. There is nothing like watching a dog do what it was bred to do. She will be moving stock around the farm for years to come and I hope eventually giving me a puppy or two just like her and Max.

That isn't an exhaustive look into what has been going on this past year but it is a good look at what I've been up to on the farm. A lot of sweat,tears, and sore muscles but even more satisfaction. It isn't easy. It's not clean. There's no certainty to it. In fact it's quite an adventure, but I can say without a doubt the farm life is the life for me.

If you have an instagram and want an up to date look at what is going on follow HTSfarm.

Rejecting Apathy

The first thing I saw when I woke up this morning were multiple notifications on my phone from news apps informing me of last night's massacre in Las Vegas. I took a screenshot and sent it to my friends. After years of being around me they've come to accept that I'm going to send them a text when anything abnormal happens, anywhere in the world. Not long after I sent the text this morning I logged onto facebook and twitter and scrolled through my newsfeed. Understandably I saw calls for prayer and the responses of grief and predictably I saw the immediate response for gun control. This is something that bothers me greatly. I've never understood the mindset that says take away guns and people will be safer. If people want something bad enough they will find a way to get it. Look at illegal drugs. Ban guns, go ahead, I can guarantee you things like this won't stop. I've never met or read about a criminal that followed the law. Alas, this post is not about gun control or those who call for it.

While scrolling through my newsfeed I came upon comment after comment of 'This is the new norm in America' 'Why does this only happen in America? Guns'  'This is nothing new'. This response is worse than yelling for an end to all guns in the United States. We've lost the ability to grieve as people. It is easier to push an agenda than to love. It's easier to yell and shout and throw blame around than it is to hurt and grieve with our fellow man. I beg of you, don't let it be this way. Apathy will solve nothing. Hurt. Grieve. Cry. FEEL. Do no wall yourself off with the excuse of some agenda or another. Let yourself feel the pain that times like this produce. Reject the narrative that says we just have to get used to this. We do not have to be alright with this. We do no have to consider this pain, or heinous acts like this the new normal for this country or anywhere else for that matter.

I was eleven when the twin towers were attacked on September 11th. I watched a nation rise together in support of New York. I watched a city full of strangers rally together to help each other as news outlets broadcasted raw footage of them helping each other amidst the dust and debris of the fallen towers. We grieved as a nation. We hurt. We cried. We felt. This is not 9/11 America. We've taken the easy way out. This nation has morphed into a grotesque shell of country whose people no longer reach out to each other because we've forgotten what made America different than other nations around the world;Her people. It isn't the sameness that makes people want to live here. It's the difference. People have come for centuries to make their home here and in doing so have created a culture that is solely ours and can't be replicated.

In the wake of each tragedy be it natural disaster or man made we become a little more jaded. Our skin gets tougher and our inability to reach out to each other grows that much stronger. This is not the way forward but thankfully not even last night has completely squashed our humanity. As of 5PM this evening the current wait time to donate blood in Las Vegas was 8 hours. I know that we Americans love to stand in line for things and we can be fanatic about getting things first but this gives me hope that perhaps we've not altogether lost ourselves. There were plenty of police officers and strangers risking their lives to save others last night while bullets ripped through the night.

So, I'm asking you, if you read this, for just a moment let yourself grieve. Forget an agenda. Forget your political party. Feel. Allow yourself to hurt for those who are suffering. As a nation we've fallen and risen countless times but it has always been together. Do no let evil win. You cannot regulate evil you can only fight it with love. Reach out to your neighbors. Love people.

Reject apathy. This is not the new norm but it is a chance to show the world that we will not be ripped apart by hate. We will do that not with loud voices but acts of kindness, selflessness, and love.

Charlottesville

I've seen plenty of things that have shocked me in my 27 years of life. Columbine,9/11, Aurora, numerous terrorist attacks around the world and one right here in Chattanooga. The march of white supremacists in Charlottesville yesterday can be added to that list. Grieving over the lives of children and people killed in a terrorist attack is one thing, this was a whole new type of grief. I sit and watch people decry abortion as they rightly should, but this happens and nothing. We cannot call out murder and ignore people calling for the death of anyone that isn't white.

One of my best friends and I were texting back and forth this morning and he said indifference is no longer an option. Here's the thing, it never was. People always have and will continue to choose to do nothing but it isn't really an option. You are either for or against something. Being indifferent doesn't exist as an option. I could ask you how you felt about coffee and your answer would tell me how you felt about it. We have to have an opinion, for or against, there isn't a middle ground. As I watched videos and news conferences of the tragedy in Charlottesville I wondered just how many people are going to ignore this and write it off. I'm not saying you aren't entitled to your beliefs because I've got mine and there are plenty that the world at large don't agree with. I'm saying you have to feel something about this.

One of the saddest aspects of all of this is that people actually hold to the belief that anyone that isn't white doesn't deserve to live. I like history, I especially enjoy war history. Last time I checked schools taught that we fought a man named Adolf Hitler who believed these things. How in just a few generations do we go from trying to stop a man who reigned terror throughout Europe killing Jews, and anyone that wasn't his idea of a model human to marching to his beliefs? How can you be American and spout the very ideals people bled and died to stop? We can't just let people spout the same hatred and let it ride.

We must stand up. We must speak out. We must call it what it is. White supremacy is racism.The R word exists, it never went away. This isn't the subtle racism that hides behind a keyboard or is disguised as words muttered under breath. Yesterday was in your face, deadly, hatred. It was racism for sure and it can be called that, but the root was surely nothing but hate. It must stop. As a nation, as a people, as a community this isn't okay. We can't see each other this way. Our blood runs red. We are different, yes, but those differences should be celebrated not shamed. I'm getting really tired of hearing 'I'm colorblind.' Don't be. But isn't that racist? Nope. Racism is treating someone different because of the color of their skin. Racism is not seeing a person for who they are in all attributes, physically and not, that's called celebrating the fact that God didn't use a cookie cutter to make us.

I'm a red-headed, sort of pale (burn like a lobster with too much sun) white male. I do not know what it is like to be a black man, woman, or child. I do not know what it's like to be Asian,Middle Eastern,Hispanic or any other ethnicity. I only understand what it means to be white and I will not disrespect you by pretending to know what you are going through. But, I will say I hurt with and for you.

I've got brothers and sisters who have death threats thrown at them, slurs hurled from mouths of people who hate them, and physical violence acted upon them because their skin is not like mine. That is not okay. As someone who wants to adopt in the future who will likely not be the father of children who look like me, this weekend scares me, it grieves me. This is a depth of hatred I've not really seen until now. It needs to be condemned. It needs to be stopped. We stand up, we speak up, change won't happen until that happens.

The Pitbull Narrative

Let's talk ladies and gentlemen.

Two weeks ago Ohio swore in its first Pit Bull K-9 officer. His name is Leonard and he's a large, muscular animal. He was a rescue from an animal shelter that no one wanted because of his energy level. Most people would hear this news and not bat an eye. I'm not most people and to me this is great news. This is a step in the right direction for these much maligned dogs. I will readily admit to never wanting to be chased down by a German Sheperd,Malinois, or Dutchie on a police officers command and having seen Leonard's pictures I can say wholeheartedly I don't want him chasing me either. He will be operating as a narcotics dog so there might not be a massive amount of chasing in his future.

I've never understood why people think it is a good idea to run from a K9. Usain Bolt is the fastest man alive and even he can't outrun one of these dogs. Although I would pay a hefty price to see Usain Bolt running from one of these dogs in a bite suit. Anyone want to throw up a kickstarter to make that happen for me?

Back to Pit Bulls. The term is an odd one as the only Pit Bull is the American Pit Bull Terrier. There are several bully breeds;The Staffordshire Bull Terrier,The American Staffordshire Terrier (bigger than the Staffordshire and resembles the APBT much more closely) are among the most likely to be lumped as  Pit Bull despite not actually being such. Most people hear the name and conjure up stories of people or dogs that were attacked by dogs identified as Pit Bulls. If that is your mental image I can't fault you, it's certainly happened. Dog attacks are quite common. There is just one problem with the narrative that every Pit Bull or bully breed is just waiting to rip out the throat of your child or tear your dog to shreds;It's a lie.

I've encountered countless Pit Bull's over the years (and am still waiting to have one of my own) none of those dogs have ever been aggressive. I've never been bitten by a Pit Bull or any of the bullies. I've been afraid of only one in my entire life and she happens to be one of my favorite dogs in the world now, I'll get to her later. On the other hand what the news doesn't like to report is the massive number of dog bites caused by your tiny toy dogs. Most dog bites do not come from large breed dogs, they come from your toys. Chihuahua's and Spaniels account for a high number of these bites, Cocker Spaniel's have some of the worst temperament's you can find in a dog. Those bites are never reported because they don't provide the right kind of attention, no one will read Chihuahua bite's child and bat an eye. It doesn't fit the stereotype or feed the fear that the public harbors for a dog who doesn't deserve it.

In my life I've been bitten three times by a dog. None of those dogs have weighed more than about fifteen pounds. Small dogs are far more dangerous around children. Given the choice I'd have my children around a Pit Bull or any large breed long before I'd stick them around a toy breed. Tiny dogs were just not meant for children. If you added about forty-five pounds to your average toy breed I can assure you that news stories would change quickly when it came to dog bites. They don't have the ability to deal the damage that a large dog can but that doesn't mean that they are safe.

If you've read my blog at all you will understand that one thing I know better than most anything else is dogs. They simply make sense to me. So don't misunderstand me and think that I dislike dogs. There are five currently at my house. A Great Pyreness,Siberian Husky,Chocolate Lab,Border Collie, and my grandmother's terrier mix. Guess which dog has offered to bite me, the tiny terrier. Until recently said dog was the bane of my existence although with some training he's gotten better, I still wouldn't want trust him around small children. They just don't fit together well. My grandmother has always had small dogs, usually Yorkies and I can't tell you how many times I've run from a dog I could punt across a room because it was trying to bite me. Small dogs are no safer around children than your average Pit Bull, in fact temperament wise they are a much worse choice.

The only dogs that score better regularly in temperament testing than your bully breeds,the APBT especially, are the Labrador and Golden Retrievers. That's basically America's favorite dog and another favorite dog, and then the dog everyone is afraid is going to eat their face off. A dog that consistently beats out toy breeds with a better temperament and disposition is much harder to align with a stereotype of killer. No one wants to talk about that, however. Ratings are way higher if the story contains a killer Bully breed.

So why this post today? Well Jasper here in good old Rocky Top is considering a Pit Bull ban. BSL is a horrendous, idiotic, law. It doesn't work. It's killing a breed that was known for many years as the nanny dog. Families have been ripped from their pets because of it. I love my dogs, I can't imagine someone coming up my driveway and telling me my dog has to go because it is a certain breed. Although Jasper's proposed ban would include only new Pit Bulls it's a slippery slope and shouldn't be considered at all.

If you can find it I would highly encourage you to read Jim Gorant's book The Lost Dogs. (I own it and have gone through it no less than five times.) It chronicles the Pit Bulls taken from Michael Vick. Almost every single one of those dogs which had been bred to fight was rehomed, several of them became therapy dogs, none of them killed a person. If you can take a dog from a life of being forced to fight, being tortured, and beaten, and have it come out not wanting to kill a human but instead love them, like these dogs did, you see the possibility these dogs have to be incredible pack members. If every person who hates these dogs was to read that book I don't think BSL would exist anymore.

I'm sorry if this graphic image disturbs some folks. As you can see this vicious beast is clearly trying to rip out my throat. This lady is Delilah. She belongs to the sister of two of my best friends. She was the first Pit Bull I was ever scared of, that fear involved her charging up the driveway barking at me when I arrived at their house. She stopped barking and instead started licking me as soon as she reached me. This was last year. I don't know if any of you have ever tried but trying to take a picture of a dog while they are licking you is a challenge. She loves to be petted and to lick you, she also really likes candy corn, although that is perhaps not applicable, but it is something I find interesting.

Delilah has growled at me only once and it was because I scared her coming in the door when none of the Percy's were home (I'd gone over to let her out for them) and she's never once offered to bite me. This dog has been around small children and she loves them. She's not eating them but I guess she could drown them in slobber from licking them. What's funny is this lady is a stout canine, she's by no means small, but like most large dogs that doesn't mean she can't be a lapdog. This girl showed me that bully breeds have an undeserved reputation. There are certainly Pit Bull's that have done horrible things. But you can look at any breed of dog and find examples of bad blood.

Get to know a Pit Bull. It will change your life. Also maybe bring a washcloth or a towel you will need it to clean the slobber off your clothes.

Backyard Nations

Before I write this post let me be explicitly clear about something; This post is about refugees. This is not going to be shared for you to rant and rave about them being in America. If you comment with anything I consider xenophobic, racist, or derogatory I will delete it.

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”-Revelation 7:9-10



I spent the last week in Clarkston/Conyers,Georgia working with refugee children at a day camp. I've done several mission trips over the last ten years, this, bar none, was my favorite I've ever done. With a desire to go to the nations and an inability to go without incredibly precise planning on my part this was one of the most amazing things, the nations were brought to me. This week I worked with children from Syria,Malaysia,Thailand,Nepal,Tanzania,Iraq, and others I've forgotten.

This trip was first mentioned several months ago. When it was first mentioned I was ready to go. At that point what we were doing wasn't concrete and there was the possibility of us essentially choosing what we'd be doing, daycamp/vbs, and manual labor. I had decided that if I was able to pick I'd do manual labor with the hopes of farming with some of these people. We didn't pick our positions we were given them, I wound up doing day camp at an apartment complex. To show the sovereignty of God, I was completely fine with that, despite it not being what I'd envisioned as my role on this trip. He knew what he was doing.

We arrived last Sunday, had an orientation and a short tour of some of the things Friends of Refugees does, learned a little of what we'd be doing this past week, and then we went back to the church we were staying at.

               This is outside one of the buildings refugees from several countries use for church.

The steps lead to the half of the leasing office we used. You can see some apartments in the background.

Monday dawned bright and early, we ate, and then we headed to our work sites. The day camp is run out of one half of the leasing office. Essentially how it works is kids walk out their doors and come right to us. Let me tell you it was quite shocking at the end of Monday to have Allie who is the head of the camp walk out on the front porch and tell the kids to go home the day was over and watch them just walk off. I'm used to parents coming in and signing out their kids, checking for a colored wristband at vbs, in general something orderly and precise. There was none of that here.

This was the first child I met. He was quite the introduction to what this week was going to be like. Dynamite in the form of a human. Things started out smoothly with a game of soccer that quickly turned into him grabbing me and telling me I was going to jail. He then proceeded to drag me, several students, and Terry Knecht against a fence so we were in jail. This game then became tag, which became piggies,backrides, and by Tuesday shoulders. They loved piggy-back rides. LOVED. THEM.

There was no shortage of children and we gave innumerable back rides and by the end of the week shoulder rides as well. If anyone ever tells you that taking care of children is easy I want you to look them in the face, laugh, and then walk away. This is not for the faint of heart. Unlike these students I do this for work, I'm used to running around chasing kids for several hours and I was done by three o'clock when the day finished. My calves were sore come Tuesday morning.

This was day two. One of my Nepali friends who I shared with John Robert and Jerron.

We did a little goofing off as seen here but my favorite part is how this looks like an awesome album cover.

Occasionally we were able to convince the kids to sit inside in the air conditioning and they loved checkers. I almost lost this game.

I will never be this cool or this relaxed. He was waiting for his turn to tie-dye a t-shirt and I looked over to see him doing this, with John Robert's sunglasses on.

There was a lot of crawfish "crab" and salamander catching. Boys are boys and we love to catch critters.

This was my boy. Catching him laughing was a hard thing because he just saw the phone and said cheese! I unfortunately did not see him Friday so I was not able to say goodbye.

My favorite shot I took. This was Monday after lunch. It rained a little and one of the boys decided to play in what was running off the roof. Proof that kids are kids no matter where they are from.

My other main boy. He was from Malaysia. From Tuesday to Friday he was with me most of the day (except for four-square he wasn't fond of that)

Let me tell you about this tiny ball of spunk. I spent five days getting a finger wagged at my face and told no any time I said so much as 'Hello' to her. Friday we had a block party and I was able to bribe her with cotton candy,popcorn, and snowcones(she had 4) and we were friends after that. She was an absolute mess and I loved it.

She wasn't believing my cotton candy picture story.

Very proud of her popcorn.

This little lady wore dresses every day until Thursday and she showed up in these awesome pajamas. Friday in 85 degree weather she had them on all day and was quite proud of this purple snowcone and the pajamas.

I don't remember who he got these glasses from but he was proud of them.

This is essentially how I spent from about nine-thirty to three every day Monday through Friday. You want to know why I took the shots that I did?  These are children. They deserved to be seen as such. I learned quickly on Monday that play is a universal language, whether that is tag, soccer, four-square, or piggy-back rides, kids are kids. I caught crawfish in a creek with a bunch of Malaysian and Nepali boys. This is a normal boy thing to do. We laughed, they paraded their catches around in a lunchable container they filled with water like they'd snagged a massive fish. Where they are from shouldn't matter. The world might see them as refugees but they are truly just children and they deserve the chance to have a childhood that doesn't involve eating rice and beans three meals a day for the rest of their lives, or spending their entire lives in a refugee camp.

I think that is why I love the shot of the boy playing in the rain so much. There is only a hand and that hand could belong to any child in the world and outside of where I took it you'd never know that it belonged to a refugee. They've had hard lives, those lives shouldn't be made harder. Listening to them laugh was one of the neatest things in the world because they were happy and I knew that for that moment at least they were just like every other kid in the world and they didn't have anything to worry about.

I learned quite a bit this week about these refugees, including their completely un-american trust in strangers. These people literally let their kids out the door to play with strange teenagers without a second thought. We had a two-year old little girl whose parents just opened their door and let her out to play with us while we were on the playground. She refused to go back home and cried when we walked her to her backdoor and gave her back to her mother during lunch who thanked us profusely for playing with her daughter. I don't know about you but my parents taught me not to play with strangers, these people don't worry about that. It's completely counter-cultural.

Wednesday we went to the community garden. 109 families have a 10x10 plot each where they grow their own vegetables. It was one of the coolest things I've ever seen. Each plot was bordered with whatever that family could find to separate their garden from the next. Anything from branches to fencing, to pieces of plastic, they don't waste anything. I wish I'd been able to ask some of them what they were growing but no one was there when we stopped by.

This particular plot was made from branches tied together.

We also went to a refugee run coffee shop called Refuge Coffee. If you're ever in Clarkston I highly recommend it. They've got great coffee and the best croissant's I've ever had.

Despite what people like to say, what the media likes to say, these are people. They are no different from you and I aside from the fact that they weren't born here. This was their escape. This country is the reason they are alive. These kids especially deserve a chance to be kids. They could no more choose to be born anywhere else than you or I could. Where you live shouldn't determine if you live. .5% of the 19.4 million refugees in the world are resettled. That's it, just .5% the others stay in camps their entire lives, many for generations because they don't have the courage to leave or want to stay and hope that one day they can go home.

Aside from a lot of new knowledge on refugees and how they actually get to America and the resettlement process (it's quite complicated and there is a reason so few refugees actually apply for resettlement) I learned something vastly important Thursday night from Terry as we discussed the Rich Young Ruler;hard things are worth it.

The rich young ruler didn't want to give up his possessions to follow Jesus. How often are we like him? Chances are we aren't being asked to give up everything we own but how easy is it to say no when God calls us to something uncomfortable or hard? The rich young ruler didn't even attempt to do this, he just walked away from Jesus, grieving. We can't be like that. We have to be willing to do the hard things God calls us to do. They aren't going to be easy but they will be worth it in the end. These are the times we grow in our faith. When we stretch ourselves and allow God to work and do things in our lives or through us that normally wouldn't be on our agendas, we grow. It's like exercising, it's rarely comfortable and requires you to tear your muscles down so they can be rebuilt and strengthened. It's hard, but worth it in the end. A relationship with Christ is going to involve hard things. But, He isn't going to call you to something and then leave you alone. If He calls you He's going to be there, He will be how you have the strength to do whatever it is.

One of those hard things was getting attached to kids you might not ever see again. I've done this before. For some of these students this is the first time they've done anything like this. They didn't expect to get attached to these boys and girls and certainly not as quickly or as deeply as they did. Friday was a day of tears as goodbyes were said. So today I asked one of our students if now that she knew how much saying goodbye hurt if she would come back. She nodded and said she would love to come back. The hard things are worth it.

Our God is sovereign. Our God is all powerful. Our God is good. He will not waste the hard things.

I'm going to brag on the folks in this picture and the one's you can't see for a bit. You see these teenagers? They did exactly what the world seems to think they are incapable of, they worked, hard. They spent hours scraping paint, sanding, painting, priming, cleaning, running around, getting their hair pulled out by tiny girls who wanted to play hairdresser, being drawn on, giving every ounce of energy they had to glorify God and show these people what it means to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I've been working in Student Ministry for almost ten years now and I don't think I've ever been more proud of a group of students than I am of these after this week.

What they did wasn't easy. Few adults would have put up with what they did and wouldn't have paid to do it. Complaints were few and far between and I'm unaware of any drama (let me just tell you how rare that is). They stepped up big time. They showed the world that despite the general attitude toward teenagers that they can in fact be counted on, they know what it means to give of themselves, and they aren't afraid to do it, they just need the chance to do it.

Side note:My Middle School boys learned that despite my being twice most of their ages the more tired I get the more I laugh and revert to a twelve year old at night time when everyone is supposed to be in bed. If you fall off your air mattress, snore, or do anything remotely amusing I will laugh like a little girl and keep you awake.

Thanks to Eric Dill,Terry Knecht, and Chris Coats for giving me this opportunity of a lifetime. It was quite literally life-changing.

Thank you to Susan Doss, Katheron Latham, Becca Doss,Amy Stitts, and Jill O'Daniel for keeping me fed this week.

Side note two:The only regret I have from this week is not being able to try any international food because that would have been fantastic.

I cannot end this blog post without sharing this song. So read the post and then go and watch this video of one of my favorite songs ever.

5 lessons from The Murph Challenge

Yesterday was Memorial Day. That meant people would be honoring the memory of those whom have given their lives in service to the United States. A few years ago a workout was setup to honor those men and women and named after Lt.Michael Murphy who gave his life during Operation Redwings while trying to call in help for his team. Thus the Murph Challenge was created. I'd heard of the Murph Challenge and had seen people posting photos and video of them completing it on the internet. This year I was invited to accept the challenge by my brother and sister in law. Here are a few things I learned yesterday.

1)My body can do far more than I ever thought possible. I'm in decent shape. I don't work out often aside from running the back pasture at my house, unless you count cleaning stalls and moving sacks of feed. But let me tell you what the full challenge entails.

1 mile run
100 pullups
200 pushups
300 squats
1 mile run
(Completed in 20lb vest or body armor)

I knew that I wouldn't be able to finish a full Murph. The running is easy, the pullups not so much. So my brother challenged me just to do a quarter at the least. That was 1 mile run,25 pullups, 50 pushups, and 75 squats. So that is exactly what I did. I broke mine into a circuit so I did reps of each exercise until completion rather than all my pullups at once. By my fifth round I thought I was going to vomit. I finished my quarter Murph and that was that. I didn't honestly expect to even complete that much, I just wanted to go in and do whatever I possibly could.

2)Servicemen and women are in astounding shape. How they walk around in body armor and do the things they do, especially when deployed in the heat of the Middle East is beyond me. It was warm here yesterday but nothing compared to their normal temperatures and I was only in a vest.

3)I was able to stop when I wanted. I had the luxury of saying enough is enough. They don't get to do that. They have a mission and they complete that mission or die trying. The word hard isn't in their vocabulary.

4)The Murph Challenge, as hard it was, cannot compare to the beating they put their bodies through daily. It involved no bullets, no bombs, no one was trying to kill me while I did push-ups or ran. I did it in honor of these men and women but I also did it for fun. I wasn't in a do or die situation. I certainly had adrenaline flowing but it was because of the exercise and not because I could die if I wasn't careful. These men and women are tough and they deserve to be respected.

5)I highly enjoy pushing myself and despite the soreness from yesterday's workout am looking forward to doing the Murph next year. I also plan on being in better shape when the time comes. Working out is fun, but its more fun when you have people with you and a reason to do it that isn't so much about yourself.

Pre-Murph in the vest

During the run

12 years and Absolute Surrender

I don't believe in chance or randomness. There is a reason for everything even if we don't or can't know that reason. We just finished a book by Andrew Murray called Absolute Surrender you should check it out, it will change you if you let it. The whole premise of the book is a life completely surrendered to God and what the Christian life should look like because of that. The past seven weeks have been spent grappling with each chapter, and tonight we covered the last two. One of the last parts of the book is a prayer (the book is full of them and they are beautiful) it's simple, asking God to make it so that he (Andrew Murray) would be completely satisfied in God. For me, that final prayer is one of the strongest parts of the book. Being completely satisfied in God means He is the only thing you seek. You can do His will because you are surrendered to Him and know that you are nothing and can accomplish nothing without Holy Spirit working  in you. The outcome of that will isn't defined by  you at all aside from your willingness, surrender, and the fact that it is your body. That is a hard thing to swallow. Most of my life I've seen Philippians 4:13 taken out of context so much that the thought that I am nothing and can do nothing is an odd thing, no matter how true it actually is, it is certainly counter-cultural and frankly counter to the belief of many followers of Christ.  The entire point of the verse is not the 'I' at the beginning or the 'me' at the end it is the 'Through Him' in the middle. The point is God. It's not about me, it's about Him.

Hang tight.

Tonight I received my regular injection of testosterone. My grandmother happened to be in the kitchen while it was being drawn into the syringe and she asked my mother how long I'd have to get the injections. The answer is my whole life barring some miracle of God or an advance in medical science that creates another way for testosterone to be delivered to my system so that my body can function like it should. Why does this matter? I've been taking these injections for twelve years now, since I was fifteen. This October it will be just under half my life exactly. Tonight is the first time I think I've ever really grappled with the fact that this is an issue that keeps me from truly being satisfied in God. Oh, how I want to say that I seek only Him, but I can't, not honestly.

In and of themselves the injections have become routine. The majority of the time I don't even feel them. It is the result of what those injections mean that bars me from finding satisfaction in God alone. I seek things that aren't in His will, children that are mine biologically. Those are not bad things, Biblically speaking children are a blessing from the Lord. The problem being that I can say I want His will to be done but until I'm actually willing to surrender completely to that will and everything it involves I can't actually be satisfied in Him. I can want Him to work His plan for my life with every fiber of my being but if I'm not surrendered it isn't going to happen. I think we get confused much of the time, we say we want God to work, and we honestly do pray earnestly for that to happen, but we let ourselves get in the way. I can tell you I do. Too often we rush headlong into doing things for God without stopping to actually see if that is what God wants us to do. It has to be His will, His way.


His will, His way. That's not always easy to accept. We don't want to say that we aren't happy with His plans when they are hard or hurt, but we knowingly or not can put up a barrier that blocks us from enjoying Him as we should and that leads to keeping Him from getting the glory He rightly deserves. I wouldn't have come out and said for the past twelve years that I wasn't satisfied in God. It wasn't a conscious choice. But it was still a choice made when I wasn't willing to totally give this away to the God who planned it long before I was born. We've talked over the past several weeks about wanting God's power but not wanting His will or wanting His ill but doing it in our own power. It just doesn't work. I don't like to think of the things I've messed up because I've set out on my own to accomplish what I thought was His will without ever stopping and seeking Him. How much different would the Church look if we realized we cannot do things without God and any attempt to do so is only hurting the end result and that is the glory of God.

I'm not about to tell you that this revelation tonight is going to magically change everything. That isn't how this works. I will still wrestle with this, quite possibly for the rest of my life. But at least now I know it is there and I can war against it and seek Him and Him only. His Will, His way. Finding satisfaction in God alone is possible because it's not about me or what I can do. In the end it is all through Him. I surrender by choice but the work itself is thankfully not done by me at all. I am nothing, I'm helpless, but God is not.

The Dog Who Wasn't Mine

She was my Mom's dog. Her first dog that wasn't a Great Dane in seven years. Flint and Lily were Mom's dogs and they knew that, Flint more so than Lily. The rest of the dogs knew who they belonged to and that was just how things in the house worked. When Flint and Lily died and Mom was ready for another dog she wanted another Chocolate Lab like we'd had many years ago. Eventually we landed on Reese's litter. I'm a dog person and when you present me with a litter of tiny puppies I'm going to have fun. When we saw the litter for the first time I played with all of the unspoken for pups. I held them off the ground to see if they'd squirm until their tiny feet touched the floor again, placed my hands on their bellies to see how long they would allow me to hold them on their backs, touched their feet, and in general studied their temperaments. I thought Reese had the best head physically of the available girls but she had the best temperament for what we were looking for in the entire litter. I intended on making this lady a therapy dog. She was enjoyed people, was calm, and seemed to want to be held and petted more than she wanted to play.

When we went to pick her up at eight weeks (see the left picture) that calm puppy was a bundle of energy. She didn't like to sit still, for anything. All she wanted to do was play and poop, and eat, she's a lab she loves food. It took her a long time to potty train, the last dog we'd gotten before her nearly five years before at that point was Max and he's never even offered to go in the house. I wasn't sure she'd ever get the hang of it but she did. I've always liked a dog in my room and prefer to sleep with one on my bed. Takoda doesn't like being on the bed or inside unless it is just scorching outside. Reese solved that problem for me, I put her cage in my room, I took her out in the middle of the night (cleaned her cage up after she went in it at 2 or three in the morning countless times) but during the day she slept on my bed until I was sure she could stay out of the crate at night. Perhaps that was my mistake.

Like I said, Reese was my mother's dog. We bought her for mom, I just picked out the best pup. Reese seems to think that such a fact is a mere formality. She might have been purchased for my mother but she was my dog, or perhaps, I was hers. It might be the fact that she spent so much time with me when she was first home or that I was the one who picked her, but I'm not so sure that any of this was in my control in the first place. I'm not entirely certain that the chocolate dog who has become mine didn't pick me. My therapy hopes were dashed fairly quickly, she is wary of males, I couldn't tell you why, she's never had a negative experience with them since she's been at our house. (My 8th grade boys will tell you that me warning you she could bite is a lie because she lapped up every bit of attention they gave her when they were here last month without so much as a growl).

Still, I trained her, and am still training her to do different things. But, it hasn't been easy. Lab's might have a reputation for being eager to please, but Reese took forever to learn to lie down. Seriously, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get her to do it. I had her doing easy nose work before I had her in a down. Eventually she got it and she will do it now, but she's been a challenge and a fun one.
She's a lab so she loves to eat. I discovered pretty quickly that she will work just as well for a toss of her ball as she will for a treat. I still treat her now because she associates the clicker with food but eventually she will be phased out to tossing a ball when she does what I want her to do. That was a fun discovery because Takoda only works for food so it is neat to find out she has two rewards that she can be paid with.

I still joke anytime she does anything and tell mom her dog has done something. She just responds with whose dog? So why the post? Well, today that chocolate puppy has been in our house for two years. While I didn't ask for Reese(not for me anyway), I didn't plan on having a chocolate lab, I have one. I plan on the next dog at the Shire to be a female Border Collie and want to get a Doberman when I get a tiny house built, they will probably be joined by a certain Chocolate Lab that claimed me as her own because I don't think I can get away without her, and I certainly wouldn't want to be able to do it if I could.

They Matter

They are loud. They are crazy. They eat constantly. They are made in the image of God. Here's the thing, the above can easily work for both the four boys on the right of the picture and for newborn babies, perhaps minus the crazy. Yet we live in a world that says they don't matter. They are an inconvenience. Women worldwide marched yesterday to demand rights to control their bodies as they saw fit. Today other women marched to demand that life be protected, life at its earliest of stages, when it is still blossoming in the womb. A right denied regularly on the basis of 'women's rights' to many humans. Tonight I write not on what people did yesterday because as humans they have the right to protest but instead on why people marched today, the protection of all life, a right far more important, the right to live.

I spent the weekend with four 8th grade boys and a few hundred other students learning about the final words of Jesus. Over the past three years those four boys have been in my small group and from Friday to Sunday they stayed at my house.Those boys aren't afraid to dig into deep things and it has been so much fun watching what has been repeatedly told to them finally starting to stick. Ask them what God is and you will likely hear the words sovereign, faithful, and true before His other characteristics. The P word is tossed around most every Sunday as an answer to a question because pride is a big deal.

Our society says that they don't really have a place yet. They are self-absorbed and addicted to technology. Oddly enough that is much the same what they say about my generation. That society doesn't see a bunch of middle school and high school aged kids who raised just under $600 in a few minutes to donate so that other children can eat and have access to safe water and an education. Mostly they just see a noisy, inconvenient, smell.

This morning I watched those same students step out of their seats in a packed sanctuary and stand in front of a mass of adults to worship. It wasn't planned and it isn't a normal occurence on Sunday mornings. This wasn't lead by an adult, but by a senior boy. He started and the rest followed. Oh to be free of pride and the fear of what it would look like as they were this morning. I don't know that the other adults in that room knew quite what to think. I've seen them do it before, I watched them do it this weekend, but it was still a powerful moment. One that brought me to tears and made me stop what I was doing for just a few seconds to see the grace of God in action. It's an honor to do what I do with these kids on Wednesdays and Sunday's. I've been doing it almost as long as our current 6th graders have been alive. But, watching God move among them will never grow old.

While I was standing there this morning I realized that on this Sanctity of Life Sunday that millions of humans were denied this chance to worship. Tomorrow more will be killed. This won't happens with guns or with drugs. It will happen disguised as a choice masquerading under a thin layer of 'rights'. I long for the day when we won't have to fight for someone's right to live inside the womb because it is viewed as sacred as when that life is in the outside world.

Despite what society says they matter. Those tiny heartbeats and fingers and toes displayed on the screen bear the image of God. The awkwardness,loudness, and life teenagers bring matters. We need them.