What Faith Can Do

On a recent trip to the shore, I was reminded how much of life’s journey is reflected in the rhythmical cycles of the sea.

Some days bring the joy of riding swells like seasoned surfers, while others pound us into the seabed and crush us against the ragged edges of coral reefs.

Our lives are marked by lines formed between high tide and low; swells that lift us to unimaginable heights, troughs that leave us aimlessly adrift with no sense of direction or purpose, and rip currents that threaten to pull us under and out to sea.

When life throws us against the rocks, battered and bruised, it’s sometimes hard to pick ourselves up and continue the fight. Endings can seem like just that, instead of rich opportunities for new beginnings that leave us stronger for having survived them.

Occasionally, the greatest truths are found in the simplest forms; they speak to us through a selfless deed, a chance encounter, or a song. Life has a way of gifting us with what we need when we need it most, and are ready to hear the message.

And sometimes those simplest gifts can be the most meaningful, enduring, and profound.

Is there a song, message, or encounter that’s spoken to you recently and helped you through a difficult time? If so, I’d love to hear about it in the comments section. God Bless!

Tiny Dogs Will to Live Inspires Thousands

Photo courtesy of Sue Rogers

On April 11, 2012 the Facebook animal community and the world mourned the loss of a tiny Chihuahua named Mia. If you haven’t followed Mia’s story, you might wonder why the passing of a dog would garner so much media attention and such an outpouring of love and loss from around the world.

Mia was no ordinary dog. She was born June 26, 2010 with a cleft palate, a disability that prevented her from nursing from her mother. Unable to ever eat or drink, she required tube-feeding five times a day throughout her 22 months of life. Despite the recommendation of doctors that she be euthanized at birth, her owner, Sue Rogers of Hilton, NY, chose to give Mia a fighting chance at life, and the world is a better place for her decision.

Photos courtesy of Sue Rogers

Mia weighed a mere 1 pound 6 ounces when fully grown; so small some of her outfits were fashioned from children’s socks. She underwent six surgeries in an attempt to repair her cleft palate, all of which were unsuccessful, and all of which doctors said she would never survive.

But survive she did. She had an amazing will to live and what she lacked in size, she more than made up for in strength, smiles, and sheer tenacity. Her two year fight for survival was perhaps a more difficult fight than any of us will ever experience.

When doctors said she was out of options, her owner never stopped searching for them, just as Mia never stopped fighting for life. Mia was on a mission and clearly had her own plans. She enjoyed helping her owner supervise the foster dogs and cats in her home, and her numerous trips and adventures touched thousands of human hearts and lives.

Photo courtesy of Sue Rogers

Her smiles, animated expressions, and sheer joy of living are a testament to a life well lived in the face of astounding adversity. To smile in the midst of struggle, to find joy in the gift of each day, and to never give up are ideals we should all aspire to.

A famous Zen proverb states: “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” It’s not so much about the physical form of the teacher as it is about the message, and clearly, Mia had a message to share with the world. Her owner said: “I have no words. How one little dog could bring so many people together from all over the world. Mia is here for a reason.”

A history of respiratory infections that weakened her lungs led to a severe case of pneumonia in early April 2012. Mia continued to fight but her prognosis was disheartening. She left the hospital for home on April 11, 2012 where she passed in the arms of her owner, surrounded by those she loved most.

It was Abraham Lincoln who said: “And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” Although Mia passed away ten weeks shy of her second birthday, she filled those 22 months of life with more joy, hope, and determination than many will ever equal.

But Mia’s passing is not the end of her story or her message. Her web page contains a host of information along with pictures and videos, while her Facebook page has swelled to 7,241 likes, composed of thousands of fans from countless countries. Her owner continues to post updates to the page as Mia’s message clearly did not leave with the passing of her physical body.

Photo courtesy of Sue Rogers

Her legacy is The Mia Foundation, an organization created by her owner, Sue Rogers. The mission statement reads as follows: “The Mia Foundation was developed to give animals born with birth defects a fighting chance. So many animals born with birth defects, such as cleft palates or missing limbs, are euthanized at birth. With a little work and a lot of love, these animals give back so much more than anyone could possibly imagine.”

The Foundation is committed to helping breeders and owners with support and care of animals born with birth defects, educating the public on special needs cases, and assisting with costly surgeries, care, and treatment that might not be affordable for the owner.

Sue is auctioning many of Mia’s belongings on eBay to raise money for the foundation, and fans around the world are donating items for auction in support of the cause. Through the legacy of her life and the foundation established in her memory, Mia will continue to inspire, educate, and save the lives of countless others who might not survive otherwise.

Hebrews 13:2 tells us: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

Who is to say some of God’s angels don’t come to us with four paws, fur coats, and cleft palates?

Photos courtesy of Sue Rogers

Spring: Season of My Joy and Sorrow

Sometime during the last few weeks, winter lost it’s final tenuous grip on our region and spring slipped fully through the door. I wasn’t entirely present to the coming or going. I was blissfully unaware of winters final exhalation and the sharp inhalation that fully breathed life into yet another spring.

Thirteen years ago, each of those breaths were measured, memorized, and forever marked to memory. In her battle with a rare and aggressive form of cancer, my mother held on to see the birth of one final spring. While medical science gave her a prognosis of no more than six months, faith and the human spirit willed her a full two years.

I was 40 the spring Mom passed, only four years removed from my own cancer diagnosis. For all she taught me about life, perhaps her greatest lessons came in the months immediately before and after her death.

I learned the true meaning of faith, courage, and acceptance in the face of lifes greatest challenges, and that laughter and tears water the soul like a passing spring shower.

When I railed at God and felt my prayers had been neither heard nor answered, she had faith each and every one had been, even when the answer was no. We were both in unfamiliar territory with no path to follow and no trail of breadcrumbs to lead us home, yet she climbed that mountain with unflagging faith and grace.

We laughed and cried and talked long into the night; of leave-taking, transitions, and keeping in touch. Neither of us knew about God Nods, but that didn’t stop us from planning them.

Less than an hour after Mom’s passing, I happened upon the following quote in a booklet left on a pew in the Hospice chapel. It’s a beautiful metaphor of our transition from this life to the next that instantly resonated with me:

“I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”

And that is dying.” -Henry Van Dyke

The passing of a human life is not unlike the passing of the seasons. Both die by degrees, and neither cease to exist simply because we no longer see them. Beginnings and endings then, are merely words we use to describe transitions that defy human description.

Those God Nods I mentioned earlier? They’re heavenly affirmations that those we’ve loved and lost live on in more than just our hearts. I no longer keep count of the actual number I’ve received. Yet two were so magical and miraculous they made every hair on my body stand on end. There was no denying their origin or meaning.

I’ve come to believe that all prayers are heard, and all are answered. The answer may not be what we want to hear, and it may come in Gods time rather than our own. Although I have no expectation in this life of understanding the reasons, I have every faith I will in the next.

If you’re missing someone who’s passed, I encourage you to look for God Nods. They happen when you least expect it and they ask you to look deeper. Not only do they bring joy, hope, and healing; they’re touching assurances of undying love, everlasting life, and goodbyes that never really are.

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.” -Kahlil Gibran

Do you have a season that invokes special memories? Have you lost someone close who will always be with you? Have you ever received a God Nod? If so, please leave a comment. I’d love to hear from you!

A Leap of Faith

Like spring fledglings wary of nest-leaving, many of us spend countless years avoiding life’s edges. We set our boundaries, ruffle our feathers, and settle down in the safety of our comfort zone. The view may be nice but ultimately, not much happens there. One day we wake up and realize that all the trappings we’ve adorned our nest with, are just so much fluff. We’ve negotiated, compromised, and oftentimes settled for far less than we deserve.

It took me over a decade to realize that life truly begins at the edges, those stepping off places where the act itself becomes a leap of faith. Several years after my first leap from marriage to singleness, I decided to celebrate my 50th birthday with another – from the open door of an airplane 2.5 miles above the earth.

Photo by Robin Kellam

For someone with a lifelong fear of both heights and flying, this was no small leap. Yet I found it far less daunting than the one that preceded it. I’d spent years perched on the edge of that nest, feathers flapping in the breeze, when I should have just jumped. Or prayed for a push. I was putting fluffy butt syndrome behind me – it was time to fly.

Several dream-filled days were spent with the book Jump! Skydiving Made Fun and Easy by Tom Buchanan, which has a wealth of information for the first-time jumper. If a beginner has ever asked the question, he probably answered it here. I know all mine were, along with a few I’d never thought to ask.

After days of web surfing and researching drop zones, Skydive Carolina in Chester, SC emerged the clear choice. Due to the abbreviated ground school, I decided to make a tandem jump where the student is attached to the instructor via a harness and both share a single parachute.

Since skydiving is a weather-dependent sport, it can be a hit or miss proposition (no pun intended). My first three scheduled jumps were misses and ended in cancellation, two due to weather-related events and one to a sinus infection that would have never made it to altitude.

When Sunday morning arrived with sun, calm winds, and clear sinuses, I drove to the drop zone several hours ahead of schedule. A warm place in the sun near the fenced perimeter was the perfect vantage point to watch load after load of jumpers board the plane, fly to altitude, and float back to earth.

After our group was called, we were treated to a 30-minute ground school that included a short video and the signing of we-cannot-be-held-responsible-if-you-die-here waivers.

Any second thoughts were immediately replaced by the sinking realization that drop zone jumpsuits are not designed for the petite skydiver. Much of the ascent to altitude was spent rolling up and tucking in excess material; enough to fashion a backup to our backup, should the first two fail. Fashion statement aside, I was still horrified at the prospect of looking like a wadded up load of laundry hurtling toward earth.

Through no fault of the pilot, the plane ride up was hell. I don’t like planes, have never liked planes, and that door couldn’t open soon enough. Waiting for 25 others to jump ahead of you equals more hell, so don’t sit in the back.

Photo by Robin Kellam

Words can’t do justice to the exit and free fall. There’s the fleeting sensation of falling for perhaps two seconds, and then it’s as if a comforting and stable column of air catches you and you’re floating – suspended 2.5 miles above the earth. The view is breathtaking, the wind noise incredibly loud, and there’s no sense of ground rush before you pull the ripcord at 5,500 feet.

Chute deployment and deceleration from 120mph to 10mph, was incredibly calm and smooth as the canopy slowly inflated above us for our trip back to earth.

The canopy ride is like a four-minute dance in descent. Toggles are ultra-responsive, and big circles, tight turns, and breath-taking drops are there for the asking. It’s complete and total joy in the moment, a freedom and aliveness like none I’ve experienced before or since. I think I might know how a bird feels when it flies – like a feather on the breath of God.

There will always be safety in the nest and pleasing, delightful views from the security of our comfort zone. The question is do we stay and settle for the view, or leap into the blue skies waiting just over the edge.

“When you come to the edge of all the light you have known, and are about to step out into darkness, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen; There will be something to stand on, or you will be taught to fly.” -Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Have you taken a leap of faith or ventured out of your comfort zone recently? What did you do and how has it changed your life for the better?