I have been thinking about my next blog post for sometime now...stories role around in my head and I think 'oh they will like that.'...Then I hear the Lord whisper 'Aimee, that's your pride showing.'
Insert Jaws theme...the dreaded P word. How I want to deny it exists. How I wish it wasn't a part of my makeup. How I squirm in my seat just thinking about it. I feel like a little kid squirming uncomfortable with the knowledge the teacher is going to call on me next.
Yes, Pride is such a thorn in my back side. The funny thing is I was going to write about how God has been working on my pride through my little dog Jack. I had this big sob story. You see my little dog is quite a handful. He's not the most friendliest of dog or most well behaved. But I work on it with him and he has good days and bad days and some somewhere in between. He was abused as a puppy (insert tear) and he is still very fearful which comes out as occasional aggression towards others and especially other animals (if you have a tail, stay away from Jack). I have had him for 2 years now and though he loves me, there are days when he is scared of me. The other day I got one of those instant biscuit tubes out of the fridge and simply turned around with him under my feet, he tucks his tail and runs outta the kitchen, like I am going to hit him with it. I have never hit this dog, I barely correct him. I was devastated that after 2 years, he
would think I would hurt him. I know it looks like a stick but please. Then I got to thinking who did I think I was? Like how am I going to heal the abuses of the pasts, how am I going to correct what was wrong but already done to this creature? That's God's job. He is the
ultimate healer. I am just called to love like he does. Then I think do I do this with the lord. Do I tuck my tail and run out the room when I think correction is going to happen. OK...now I think my pride has been checked and I can move on (like it will never happen again).
But noooooo...several weeks later, my lovely little dog begins peeing and moaning every time he tries to jump. Of course this is also the week I got thee most horrible respiratory flu in my life (temperatures, lost my voice, horrible hacking cough), all I wanted to do was be curled up in my bed with the covers over my head. I am a good pet owner so even though I was sick, I did take him to see his favorite vet. I kind of mimed what I needed to say to her (since my voice sounded like a record on sand paper) and she went to examine him. He promptly bit her. I feel so terrible, she was of course graceful and insists we try again. She examines his hips and tail and
says OK something is not quite right. Time for xrays.
"His hips are dislocated."
She said "hips" meaning both of them. At the top of my non-existent voice I scream "What? He is 4 years old, how does he dislocate his hips?" Really I am thinking 'Man am I a horrible pet owner? I don't even know how he did this.' She says this happens to some dogs and more than likely it will happen again with him. She recommends they put him under today, take more xrays and try to pop the hips back in their sockets. Of course I said yes, immediately and she goes to take him from the room.
"Oh by the way, he's had diarrhea. It's probably just because he is nervous."
I never want to hear those words again in my life. I come to pick him up from he is little ordeal at the Vet and the techs says he's had this problem several more times. In fact, I have to come back tomorrow for his leash because they had to do laundry, it was so bad. I apologise and listen carefully to the directions to care for him and rush back home as quickly as possible as I don't want to have this problem in my car. We make it through the evening and I think I am
home free. I am exhausted, I feel so bad for my little guy. I tuck us into bed and fall asleep, so thankful the day is done.
Insert Jaws theme...the dreaded P word. How I want to deny it exists. How I wish it wasn't a part of my makeup. How I squirm in my seat just thinking about it. I feel like a little kid squirming uncomfortable with the knowledge the teacher is going to call on me next.
Yes, Pride is such a thorn in my back side. The funny thing is I was going to write about how God has been working on my pride through my little dog Jack. I had this big sob story. You see my little dog is quite a handful. He's not the most friendliest of dog or most well behaved. But I work on it with him and he has good days and bad days and some somewhere in between. He was abused as a puppy (insert tear) and he is still very fearful which comes out as occasional aggression towards others and especially other animals (if you have a tail, stay away from Jack). I have had him for 2 years now and though he loves me, there are days when he is scared of me. The other day I got one of those instant biscuit tubes out of the fridge and simply turned around with him under my feet, he tucks his tail and runs outta the kitchen, like I am going to hit him with it. I have never hit this dog, I barely correct him. I was devastated that after 2 years, he
would think I would hurt him. I know it looks like a stick but please. Then I got to thinking who did I think I was? Like how am I going to heal the abuses of the pasts, how am I going to correct what was wrong but already done to this creature? That's God's job. He is the
ultimate healer. I am just called to love like he does. Then I think do I do this with the lord. Do I tuck my tail and run out the room when I think correction is going to happen. OK...now I think my pride has been checked and I can move on (like it will never happen again).
But noooooo...several weeks later, my lovely little dog begins peeing and moaning every time he tries to jump. Of course this is also the week I got thee most horrible respiratory flu in my life (temperatures, lost my voice, horrible hacking cough), all I wanted to do was be curled up in my bed with the covers over my head. I am a good pet owner so even though I was sick, I did take him to see his favorite vet. I kind of mimed what I needed to say to her (since my voice sounded like a record on sand paper) and she went to examine him. He promptly bit her. I feel so terrible, she was of course graceful and insists we try again. She examines his hips and tail and
says OK something is not quite right. Time for xrays.
"His hips are dislocated."
She said "hips" meaning both of them. At the top of my non-existent voice I scream "What? He is 4 years old, how does he dislocate his hips?" Really I am thinking 'Man am I a horrible pet owner? I don't even know how he did this.' She says this happens to some dogs and more than likely it will happen again with him. She recommends they put him under today, take more xrays and try to pop the hips back in their sockets. Of course I said yes, immediately and she goes to take him from the room.
"Oh by the way, he's had diarrhea. It's probably just because he is nervous."
I never want to hear those words again in my life. I come to pick him up from he is little ordeal at the Vet and the techs says he's had this problem several more times. In fact, I have to come back tomorrow for his leash because they had to do laundry, it was so bad. I apologise and listen carefully to the directions to care for him and rush back home as quickly as possible as I don't want to have this problem in my car. We make it through the evening and I think I am
home free. I am exhausted, I feel so bad for my little guy. I tuck us into bed and fall asleep, so thankful the day is done.
OH, HOW NAIVE I WAS!
We had runs at midnight, 2am and somewhere between 4 and 6am. Two baths in one night, a pile of laundry, 1 bottle a febreeze and several runs down the stairs and out to the puppy patch, 2 telephone calls with the all night vet line, an urgent text to my mom in the morning
to request medication be picked up immediately! I am dizzy with the combination of medication, lack of sleep and the terror we will need to run downstairs again (Are you snickering? I am glad you can laugh at the misery) I couldn't breath, never so grateful for the flu in my life. I can't do laundry in my apartment building until 8am. So everything was washed out as best it could be
but I NEED to do laundry. I get in there as soon as 8 am rolls around...
We had runs at midnight, 2am and somewhere between 4 and 6am. Two baths in one night, a pile of laundry, 1 bottle a febreeze and several runs down the stairs and out to the puppy patch, 2 telephone calls with the all night vet line, an urgent text to my mom in the morning
to request medication be picked up immediately! I am dizzy with the combination of medication, lack of sleep and the terror we will need to run downstairs again (Are you snickering? I am glad you can laugh at the misery) I couldn't breath, never so grateful for the flu in my life. I can't do laundry in my apartment building until 8am. So everything was washed out as best it could be
but I NEED to do laundry. I get in there as soon as 8 am rolls around...
OH WAIT, NO SOAP!
Are you kidding me? I am desperate at this time. Everything stinks to the point that even with all my congestion I am starting to smell it. Oh what can I do? I hate (capital letters are needed) HATE asking for help but I give in. I go and ask my neighbor down the hall, this sweet old lady. I ask if I could borrow some soap, of course, I don't have a voice. She is very sweet and lends me the soap, and offers to go to the store for me and knocks on my door 3 times that day to check on me.
I knew it would be uncomfortable when God starts working in your heart on things you don't even want to acknowledge is there. But really, did it have to be stinky too?
I so don't want to be in this place where I need to ask for help (trust me, I know this is pride, I try to bargain with God that it's OK but it doesn't seem to be working). I was all set to tell you this story which I have just told you. Then yesterday, I realised I was still holding on to this pride. I was sitting on the bed of a patient who told me he was depressed. He was laid up for 6 months, loosing his business, frustrated with the economy, feeling weak that he now had to rely on his wife for basic care. His pride, he admits, is wounded. He told me if he had to do it all over again, he would go back to the way it was, he didn't want to go through all of this, even if it somehow made him better and more able to care for his family and business.
I began to ponder this...OK God, I get it. I don't want to go back to the way I was, I don't want to let my pride separate us any more.
Oswald Chambers says "After every darkness comes a mixture of delight and humiliation...delight in hearing God speak, but chiefly humiliation-What a long time I was in hearing that! And yet God has been saying it all these days and weeks. Now He gives you the gift of humiliation which brings the softness of heart that will always listen to God now."
My heart is softening and for at least today, I can lay my pride at your feet. Thank you for loving me through the darkness, using those around me to change my heart and putting me in that place where desperation wins over holding on to my pride. Thank you for the gift of humilation. I give you the glory and will presist in loving you like crazy.
Are you kidding me? I am desperate at this time. Everything stinks to the point that even with all my congestion I am starting to smell it. Oh what can I do? I hate (capital letters are needed) HATE asking for help but I give in. I go and ask my neighbor down the hall, this sweet old lady. I ask if I could borrow some soap, of course, I don't have a voice. She is very sweet and lends me the soap, and offers to go to the store for me and knocks on my door 3 times that day to check on me.
I knew it would be uncomfortable when God starts working in your heart on things you don't even want to acknowledge is there. But really, did it have to be stinky too?
I so don't want to be in this place where I need to ask for help (trust me, I know this is pride, I try to bargain with God that it's OK but it doesn't seem to be working). I was all set to tell you this story which I have just told you. Then yesterday, I realised I was still holding on to this pride. I was sitting on the bed of a patient who told me he was depressed. He was laid up for 6 months, loosing his business, frustrated with the economy, feeling weak that he now had to rely on his wife for basic care. His pride, he admits, is wounded. He told me if he had to do it all over again, he would go back to the way it was, he didn't want to go through all of this, even if it somehow made him better and more able to care for his family and business.
I began to ponder this...OK God, I get it. I don't want to go back to the way I was, I don't want to let my pride separate us any more.
Oswald Chambers says "After every darkness comes a mixture of delight and humiliation...delight in hearing God speak, but chiefly humiliation-What a long time I was in hearing that! And yet God has been saying it all these days and weeks. Now He gives you the gift of humiliation which brings the softness of heart that will always listen to God now."
My heart is softening and for at least today, I can lay my pride at your feet. Thank you for loving me through the darkness, using those around me to change my heart and putting me in that place where desperation wins over holding on to my pride. Thank you for the gift of humilation. I give you the glory and will presist in loving you like crazy.
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