Volunteers

A Prayer for the Loss of a Beloved Pet

N.B.: Moose Tracks is healthy at this writing. Multiple friends have recently lost dear pets. This post is for y’all. A Prayer Father of life, Creator of all creatures great and small: Thank You for the good gift of our heart animals, the creature companions who help us better understand Your love. You know the tally of each sparrow’s days and the quota of tail wags, walks, belly rubs, and purrs for each dog and cat we love. You know how many skins each reptile sheds, how many canters around each horse’s paddock, how many gambols of each goat, how many bubbles from each fish. You also know how big is the hole left when our beloved pet’s days come to an end. It hurts, and the memories of those final moments can feel stronger than all the good that came before. Pour in comfort that overflows the cavern of grief. Help us to look to You in our sadness, for every good thing in our precious animals is an arrow pointing to You. Keep our hearts open to love, despite this intense reminder that love means pain too. Lord, we wait earnestly for the restoration of all things, when You will wipe away every tear and death will be no more. There all mourning will be comforted; there all sorrow and sighing will flee. Nothing will be lacking for our joy, and everything will be provided for our joy. God of lilies and sparrows, look with tender mercy on our grief, and send plentiful reminders that You are with us in the middle of it and treasure us infinitely more than we love our creature companions. In Jesus’ name, we lift our grief and gratitude. Amen. The Electing Love of God and the Ebony Dog Dogs pick their people, or so they say. Once upon a time, A black super-dachshund named Rex, Left at a shelter so long the volunteers feared it was permanent, Chose me to be his Person. Before I had done anything for him, good or bad, Before I changed his name to Ebony, With the inscrutability of grace, He picked me.   To the Ebony Dog [https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2018/06/12-things-you-may-not-know-about-ebony.html], I was never too much, Even when I was. He drew all the closer to my tears, Kissing them away from my face. He wagged his tail with my laughter. He nestled against my leg or belly In my hours upon hours of physical therapy exercises. He never bored of my company, Not even with months on the sofa And years mostly in the house. He made the love and companionship of God Tangible to me in the funerals, The heartbreak, The five surgeries in five years, The anxieties, The upheavals Of his decade as the canine of the couch. He loved the people I loved, But only because I loved them. His favorite place to be was at my side. No matter what.   To the Ebony Dog, I was never too little, Even when I was. He consented to Amore walking him without me, But he sulked all the way to the turn toward home And strained at the leash the rest of the way. Even in those final days When he collapsed in the living room Before my shocked and stricken eyes, And I couldn’t lift him off the floor where he'd fallen, Into the car, to drive him to the vet, As I rocked myself and wept, Waiting for help to come to help us both, He tried to wag his tail when I reached down to stroke his ears Or tried without success to find the place of pain. I couldn’t help my most constant companion, My de facto emotional support dog, In his time of greatest need, But there he was, telling me It would be all right.   That last morning in the vet’s office, My weakened, struggling dog, Who would normally be trembling with anxiety And hiding under a chair, Resisted us, tried to jump off the table And get away from the hands trying to help him, To ease his suffering. I told my mother afterward, And her response was instant: “He didn’t want to leave you.” “You think he knew that was what was happening?” “Yes. He was a very perceptive dog. He never did like being separated from you.”   His constant, lavish, undeserved, undeterred affection, With the inscrutability of grace, Chose me To be his Person. It was one of the greatest earthly gifts I’ve known in seven weeks of years of life. In his love I read a parable of The unconditional, electing love of God. To Him I am never too much (Because He is always bigger), Never too little (Because He is always enough), Always accepted and acceptable in the Beloved, Chosen and blameless in His eyes. His affection is constant, unfailing, Not bound by dog years or pages on a calendar, Not excluded by quarantine or locked doors. Though the Ebony Dog has left me, The God he pointed to never will. He stopped at nothing to be with me— Becoming human flesh, Giving His only Son, Showing me my sin and His salvation, Birthing faith in my heart— To unite me to Himself forever. Who, indeed, shall separate me from Him? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit crumbsfromhistable.substack.com [https://crumbsfromhistable.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Even If

With God, We don’t have to redact our wrestlings, Airbrush our mascara trails, Mute our howls of anguish, Bury our fears. Whatever the heights or depths Of our feelings, He can bear them. Whether I jump for joy Or collapse on the closet floor, Sobbing, Or pound puny fists on His chest, He invites me to come In all my raw reality. Even better, He desires me to come; He treasures my tears in his bottle, Records my sorrows in His book, Dances with my joys. He is brighter than my darkest days, Bigger than my heaviest burdens, Eternal in His love and mercy and Justice and holiness. Because He is the Lord And my Lord, Joy is my inheritance forever, Even if the earthly worst should come For now. “Though the fig tree does not bud And there is no fruit on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though the flocks disappear from the pen and there are no herds in the stalls, yet I will celebrate in the Lord; I will rejoice in the God of my salvation! The Lord my Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like those of a deer and enables me to walk on mountain heights! For the choir director: on stringed instruments.” ‭‭Habakkuk‬ ‭3‬:‭17‬-‭19‬ ‭CSB‬‬ [The brown and white bird with golden eye, perched on the black metal garden fence, is a brown thrasher. We have enjoyed its visits to Wingshadow this spring, despite its apparent dislike of paparazzi. In size, it resembles a robin.] This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit crumbsfromhistable.substack.com [https://crumbsfromhistable.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

To My Advocate

How glorious Your garments, Great High Priest, Clothed in glory and beauty, Your people upon Your heart, Holiness on Your forehead, Judgment on Your shoulders, Scars on Your back, Nail prints in Your hands, Spear stab in Your side. You are the merciful and faithful High Priest In the service of God To make propitiation for sins not Yours, Crowned with glory and honor, Grace pouring from Your lips. You are the great and good High Priest, Living, saving, interceding forever For those who draw near to God Through You. I come in grateful adoration For such an immaculate Mediator, Holy, innocent, unstained, set apart, Exalted, generous in self-oblation, Both priest and spotless sacrifice, Guaranteeing a better covenant. How, O Lord, can we shabby sinners Be the joy set before You, The joy surpassing pain of cross And bloody sweat? Forgive my sins, for they are many. Thank You for Your grace in Saving the lost and derelict, loving The unlovable, making waifs and urchins Your blood-bought family, Growing in reflected glory as we gaze at Yours, growing in holiness as Your Spirit works out the grace that You have worked in. Glorious and gracious High Priest, Died, risen, ascended, and sure To come again, I worship You. P.S. We recently spotted a scissor-tailed flycatcher (photo below) who graciously accepted our request for photos. Have you seen any new-to-you birds lately? To Live Well, the latest book by O. Alan Noble, would make an excellent book for graduates and intergenerational mentoring. My brief review is here: GoodReads review [https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/8559911887]. Thanks for reading crumbs from His table fellowship! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit crumbsfromhistable.substack.com [https://crumbsfromhistable.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Volunteers

“What does it matter? Only that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is proclaimed, and in this I rejoice. Yes, and I will continue to rejoice.” Philippians 1:18 CSB “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. By his own choice, he gave us birth by the word of truth so that we would be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures.” James 1:17-18 CSB Volunteers Good seed In good soil Can bear good fruit Despite bad intentions. Seedlings volunteer In the merest bit of soil in sidewalk cracks And the fecundity of compost heaps; Dandelions and oak seedlings will sprout In the most carefully tended beds, Despite diligent efforts At inhospitality. The life inside the tiny caskets Cannot be contained When ready to burst its bonds. God’s living and active Word-seed Will find a way to press down Into hearts of God’s choosing, And upward in eternal life And abundant fruit. “Since you have purified yourselves by your obedience to the truth, so that you show sincere brotherly love for each other, from a pure heart love one another constantly, , because you have been born again — not of perishable seed but of imperishable — through the living and enduring word of God. For ‘All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like a flower of the grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls, but the word of the Lord endures forever.’ And this word is the gospel that was proclaimed to you.” 1 Peter 1:22-25 CSB Scripture quotations marked CSB have been taken from the Christian Standard Bible®, Copyright © 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. Christian Standard Bible® and CSB® are federally registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit crumbsfromhistable.substack.com [https://crumbsfromhistable.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Lament for the Long Haul

Good Shepherd of the sheep, Master of the great feast, Lord of the harvest, I worship You. O Lord, You see the multitudes still suffering over the long haul from the ravages of the pandemic. Their needs are many, too great for the strongest and most influential, Much less one such as I. All I can do is bear them on my heart to Your throne of grace. You have mercy and grace to help them in time of need. And You can sway the hearts of Your people to help carry the cross of disability. If You are willing, You can even heal. Lord, I bring You the mothers nurturing from the sofa; The artists whose creative vision is blurred by brain fog; The athletes bound to wheelchair and home; The scientists whose bright intellects have been dimmed and dulled; The physicians imprisoned in home or bed from infections in the line of duty; The millions slogging through hours of work to earn their bread, Who keep their illness secret to protect their jobs; The millions more unable to work at all, but denied disability assistance And struggling to meet basic survival needs; The children and young people whose promising futures vaporized When we, their elders, did not shield them from disease, disability, and death Borne like smoke in the air. I bring You the wife deciding between taking a shower and preparing a meal, Unable to attempt both today. I bring You the mama fighting through Long COVID brain fog To care for her adolescent daughter diagnosed with dementia, Dementia caused by COVID. I bring You the sufferers weary of research And demoralized by begging for validation, protection, A listening ear, and the kindness of understanding. I bring You those traumatized by medical disbelief, dull ears, denial. I mourn these broken bodies and damaged futures. I lament our guilt, our culpability, As a church and as a society. Our sins are many and grievous. We have not loved You with our whole hearts, Nor our neighbors as ourselves. I am heartily sorry for these our misdoings. Forgive us, Lord. Forgive me, Lord, For my failures to love these battered bodies and bruised souls well. They are persons clothed with the inherent dignity of Your image. We have not honored that humanity And treated their lives as sacred to You. Awaken Your church to true repentance— We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves— To relinquish excuses And to love You by loving the least. What we do to the sick and in prison, We do to You, Lord Christ. Have mercy on us for the hardness of our hearts, O Savior of the pierced side. Lift our gaze from our own internecine quarrels To the ocean of desperate need all around us. Open our ears to the cries of the hundreds of millions Imprisoned and alienated by sick bodies and beds of suffering. Good Shepherd of the sheep, Gather the forlorn and forsaken sheep into Your arms; Carry them through the dark valley at the pace of Your pulse; Extrude Your undershepherds to guard, nourish, and abide with them. Master of the feast, Send forth Your servants to bear On stretchers the sick and disabled, Welcoming them to the gracious abundance of Your hospitality, Not dependent on performance, appearance, or productivity, But only on their need and willingness. Lord of the harvest, Raise up Your fellow workers To go forth weeping, Carrying the seed of Your Word, The seed of the gospel, The seed of promises and hope; Cultivating Your truth; Pouring out Your life-giving water In hope of a harvest of joy. Lord God Almighty, Raise up helpers to do for them what they cannot do; Raise up givers to share their financial burdens; Raise up advocates to fight alongside them through the torturous disability and accommodation process; Raise up physicians, wise and patient, willing to believe their witness of suffering and weakness, Curious, diligent, and dedicated to finding treatments now and, one day, cures; Raise up teachers and tutors for the children who can only learn at home; Raise up servants willing to help them on their own terms, gladly stripping off pride and self-preferences to wash their feet; Raise up friends and comforters with listening, empathetic ears, Kind eyes, shared tears, ready to sit with Job on the ash heap in silence; Raise up prophets speaking forth words of life, forgiveness, hope, and peace; Raise up just leaders ready to act with integrity and humble service, Valuing moral duty above political expediency; Raise up pastors to instill courage in the downcast, To strengthen marriages to endure the furnace of chronic illness, To support grieving, anxious children who have lost their Before-COVID parent Though that loving heart still beats. Be all these things in Yourself, Lord: Helper, giver, advocate, Physician, teacher, servant, Friend, prophet, leader, pastor. You are these and more And can form us into Your likeness, To do after You what we see in You, To follow in Your steps. Look upon this multitude, Needing all this practical aid, And also the care and cure of their souls. Whom will You send, Lord? Who will go for You? Where are the churches who will search out these lost lambs? These invisible ones, like lepers, exiled outside the camp? Who will bend low in humble service, Be the hands and feet of Jesus to those who cannot respond in kind? Who will join the fellowship of the beautiful feet, Extending good news Of hope in Jesus, The enduring kingdom to come, the new bodies awaiting, A purpose in our suffering, All things cooperating for good for those who love You. The chronically ill will not, cannot, likely Fill coffers or pews, fold bulletins, or chair committees. They cannot teach Sunday school or sing in choir. Yet lavishing love on the languishing Is lavishing love on Christ. Give us—me—ears to listen, Hearts to love, Hands to serve, Wills to believe their stories, Comfort in our own afflictions To share with them. In the multitude of needs, Bless and multiply these offered crumbs For Your name’s sake. Good Shepherd of the sheep— Seek the lost and wounded and bear them up in Your strong arms. Master of the great feast— Summon and serve the sick and disabled, Made welcome under Your banner of abundant love. Lord of the harvest— Raise up faithful workers and send them into Your fields To labor diligently to gather in the fruit of Christ’s suffering. Your kingdom come, Father. Your will be done, For Your glorious name’s sake. Amen. Thanks for reading crumbs from His table fellowship! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit crumbsfromhistable.substack.com [https://crumbsfromhistable.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]