Life can be messy. Sometimes it stinks. Even in the most hopeful days, we are forced to deal with awkward situations and annoying people. Some things cannot be avoided.
Life paints its pictures on the canvas of our souls. It might be a peaceful walk in the park, a pick-up-the-pieces nightmare, or time to face the music showdown. There are always lessons for life in anything you encounter. Always.
It was a sunny morning, unusually warm. I stood at my door overlooking the backyard. Birds chirped their lovely songs. The sky was clear. The cat was in the cradle, the silver spoon in the sink, and a man on the moon.
This felt like the beginning of a good day as sounds of Louis Armstrong filled my mind.
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed days, the dark sacred nights
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Oh yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world!
Today was the day—I would finally clean up the dog poop in the backyard. I prefer to leave it for fertilizer. My wife thinks the dirty piles affect the aesthetics. The fact that our dog had a visitor for the past week swung the viewpoint in my wife’s direction.
Somedays, you just need a little motivation to get going to clean up the stinky messes in your life. Motivation—your reason for behaving a certain way; your influence, incentive, or stimulus for action. It is the driving force for a desired goal.
I was armed with my shovel, a bucket. and a look of grim determination as I ventured into my backyard wilderness. This was not my first rodeo.
I have early childhood memories of stepping in cow manure while walking with my dad through high grass fields on our way to a fishing pond. I froze and started to gag. You can wipe off your shoe, but the smell lingers.
My allowance job was to feed our family birddog and clean out his pen. Cassius was on his last legs. He became so old and so weak that he could scarcely stand. He spent his days in the backyard dog pen. He could barely crawl away from his own poop.
I shoveled and gagged while Cassius dragged his body to a new area. You can trash the poop but the smell lingers.
I realize I have reached a new low by writing about shoveling dog do-do. Proceed with caution, as reading this may be as unpleasant as the task itself.
I will interject one of my favorite Uncle Derwin stories. It continues to amuse me despite its inappropriateness. You might think it stinks.
A young Native American boy came to his father with a question. “How did you decide your kids’ names?”
The chief responded, “When your older brother was born, the first thing I saw was a Little Bear. When your sister was born, the first thing I saw was a Running Deer.”
“Why do you ask Pooping Dog?”
Ok, I am sorry, but you have no idea how many times I repress that response when others ask me a “why’ question. Back to my shovel story.
Our boxer dog and my son’s older retriever watched from the window, tails wagging with enthusiastic glee as I stepped into their stinky maze. I slowly began the search for fossilized relics while avoiding the surprise of fresh deposits.
I muttered motivational quotes from the #1 Textbook while avoiding direct eye contact with the messy minefield.
Step one: Locate the poop. Easier said than done. Jada spreads hers around, kind of a walk-off finish, as if she is marking a trail back to the house. Dez manages to distribute his “larger gifts” with military precision. Some are artfully hidden under bushes, others strategically planted in tall grass like camouflaged landmines.
I moved with the cautionary slowness of a bomb squad.
Step two: The pickup. With each shovel payload, I fought my gag reflex. The smell was… let’s call it “robust.” The stench created permanent damage to my sense of smell.
At this point in the cleanup process, my thoughts always go to that infamous quote from my ministry associate and friend, Jeff, who once pined that he believed this would be his future role in the next life…Heaven’s Pooper Scooper.
If Poop Patrol is an occupation in the higher kingdom, then I was flunking my audition. Thoughts of throwing the “stuff” over my neighbor’s fence had to be squashed. My stinking good time attitude was horrendous.
Step 3: Guard your steps unless it is too late. Why would I say that, Pooping Dog?
Halfway through my scoop, I discovered a hidden landmine with my shoe. I froze in disgust. Then I hopped around on one foot like a deranged flamingo. Dez barked with enjoyment. I glared at both the dogs. I thought their high five paw exchange was excessive celebration.
At this point, one can curse, sulk, or let the mess ruin your day. I do not curse, but I am every experienced with the other two reactions.
As I hobbled to the nearest patch of grass to scrape my shoe, I started to reflect. Life, much like my walk, is unpredictable. Sometimes, you march into the day full of confidence, and then—splat—you step into a mess you never saw coming.
Wipe off your shoes, hold your head high, and keep moving forward. Always, always watch your next step!
I cycled through all five stages of grief as I hosed off my tennis shoe.
After thirty stinky minutes, the backyard was clean but the smell lingered. The dogs could hardly wait for their victory lap. They bounded outside, sniffed around, then promptly squatted in the exact spots just cleaned.
They did not even wait for my high five celebratory approval from Babe. Instead, I received the customary evaluation, “You missed a couple of spots.”
I could not escape the smell from my brown stained tennis shoes. I gagged on my stinking dignity just as in those adolescent days. The smell lingered.
I sat down on the patio chair and thought of those days from long ago. No, not the similarities to my preaching! I began reminiscing about my dad’s prize birddog. The costly canine lives on forever in family lore, but not for the dog’s hunting prowess. Cassius was a lover, not a fighter.
Dad loved to hunt. Because of his busy coaching schedule, hunting was more of a pastime than a passion. His occasional adventure was hunting quail.
A year-end bonus gave Dad the opportunity to purchase a champion bloodline bird dog. I don’t know if Mom ever knew how much this dog cost. It was a small fortune for their budget.
The dog training went well. Cassius was obedient and a quick learner. He was fast and fierce. He would go and stop on command. He showed off as an excellent retriever.
Unfortunately, Cassius had an Achilles Heel. It was not a bad leg. It was a fearful fright of the sound of a shotgun. With one loud shot, the champion-bred bird dog sped into the background. AWOL.
Yep. Cassius was a pacifist. A conscientious objector. Maybe he wanted to change his name. Dad would find his scaredy-cat prize champion bloodline bird dog waiting back at the truck.
This fear of loud noises was never remedied. Things got to the point where Cassius would hide whenever he saw his owner loading the car for the hunt. Eventually, Cassius stayed home with me while Dad went quail hunting.
Dad’s Best Buy Bird Dog was a Bust. He remained the family pet and my cleanup project in his last days.
Dad expected to find Cassius dead every morning. Crawling over to eat his food was about the only exercise the old bird dog would get.
One morning. Cassius was gone. Not dead. Not in the dog pen. Gone. Vanished. He was not worth stealing. That would have been a blessing in disguise.
A search of the neighborhood revealed no clues. Cassius had disappeared. The next morning, Cassius was lying beside our back door. The rejuvenated bird dog jumped up and pranced to his pen for breakfast. What happened?
Well, whatever happened, would reoccur several times each year for the next three years. The weak-legged, shotgun-fearing champion bird dog looked as if he could not survive another night. We expected Bird Dog Heaven at any moment.
But then, Cassius would mysteriously disappear and then unexpectedly reappear like a frolicking pup. No lie. No exaggeration. He danced around the yard.
Dad was determined to find out how Cassius escaped the dog pen. There was no evidence of a hole in the fence. No indication of Cassius digging a hole under the fence. Cassius could not jump the six-foot fence because he was so feeble he could not hop over his water bowl.
One morning, Dad looked out the window to watch Cassius climbing the fence. Yes. Climbing. One weak paw into a square piece of wire followed by another until he ascended to the top of the fence. As he wobbled at the top, he eventually fell out into the yard on his face.
Dad put Cassius back into the dog pen. The old pet could barely stand. As soon as we were out of sight, he began another climb. This time, our entire family stood in amazement at Cassius’ weak but determined adventure.
The dog on his last legs tumbled from the top. Cassius did not float like a butterfly or sting like a bee. This was a knockout! The champion was down for the count as his face hit the canvas turf.
As Cassius recovered his senses following his fall from the top of the fence, he hobbled out the backyard, down the alley, and headed for the next block. Dad got into his car to follow and retrieve the wayward canine.
The pursuit ended with a revelation of the motivation that moved Cassius from the wings of the undertaker to the fancy prancing return of a conquering hero.
Cassius found Bird Dog Heaven here on earth! He had a girlfriend just three blocks away!
I will just leave it at that.
Cassius may not have been a champion bird dog, but his legend lives on in our family memories. Cassius has left the building!
What does shoveling earthly dog poop and Bird Dog Heaven have to do with our mission to love first and love most?
We can make excuses for how bad we feel or how hard life is. We can complain about circumstances and criticize others. We can crawl in a hole and wait for everything to be over.
Or…we can find some motivation that is greater than our weaknesses and problems!
For most of us, we do not lose the desire to love. We do not quit. We just become complacent.
Complacency—unaware or uninformed self-satisfaction. We feel content with our spiritual condition while unaware of our deficiencies and dangers.
We just do not clean up our daily messes. Eventually, our attitude stinks.
Our spiritual complacency results in us drifting back into selfishness and worldliness. We go through the spiritual motions of loving others, somewhat satisfied if we do not love worse than others on this journey.
Complacency loses sight of the goal. It no longer responds to motivation, the driving force to a desired goal.
Love needs motivation to pursue its goal.
Whatever your situation, you are not too old or too weak or too poor to love others. You just need some motivation to clean up your act.
Keep your eyes on Jesus, our leader and teacher. He loved us enough to die a shameful death because of all the joy to come later (#1 Textbook).
Jesus’ amazing love for us is our motivation to love others. He has stepped into a lot of messes in your life. Then He cleans you up …
Our negative thoughts, anger, jealousy. or bitterness clutter our hearts, Life becomes a mess, but we get complacently comfortable with the stinky smell of selfishness. When we allow God to clean us up, our hearts become full of fresh joy and love.
This is no time to be casual or complacent about loving God and loving others. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me (Psalm 51:10).
We are all nearer to Heaven than we would like to admit. There is a Heavenly Love awaiting us.
How about some Heavenly Love now?
Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of stinky self-centeredness. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you (Ephesians 4:31-32).
Jesus lives inside you to lead you to others He intends to love through you.
Now is the time to Love First and Love Most. Little acts of love can rejuvenate your heart.
Follow our leader. There is someone to love first and most today.
Do not stink up someone else’s life.
CLIMB THE FENCE. GET BACK IN THE GAME. PICK UP THE PACE. SHOW SOME HEAVENLY LOVE NOW.
I heard there are auditions today for Heaven’s Pooper Scooper Squad!
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
LOVE FIRST...LOVE MOST 