Thing 33

Four years ago we moved into our house.  Hurricane Irene wasn't far behind, making the welcome more exciting. It certainly provided an opportunity to meet our neighbors in an unexpected way.

This weekend, we had our first official block party.  After four years, it felt like the right time.  When we moved in, there were only three families with school aged children (including ours).  Now we have about 9 new families on the block with kids.  It's delightful. 

Block parties have all but disappeared in this era.  Being old school, it was on my list of things to do.  Between the young families, new folks on the block, and general comradery we have, it wasn't going to be tough to pull off.

It was a huge hit.  We had plenty of tasty dishes, an assortment of lawn games for young and old, tables and chairs provided for relaxing, and the volunteer firefighters brought the firetruck for the kids to see. 

This is my neighborhood.  I take seriously the task of knowing my neighbors.  Moving stinks.  Do it enough times and you learn how important that welcome to the block can be. A small gesture of flowers and a note can go a long way towards building a sense of friendship and community.  Don't underestimate the power of conversation and being neighborly.  My neighbors know I'd help them out in a pinch.  That doesn't happen by chance.  Be the kind of neighbor you want to have as a neighbor.  It really is that simple.

Trees don't grow fruit the first year they're planted.  Four years ago, we never could have imagined the neighborhood we now have.  A lot of watering, sunlight and care, has produced a fruitful tree.  Relationships take time and energy, and I'm so thankful we're seeing the payoff. 

Thing 33 I love about New Jersey is our wonderful block.  It's precisely the kind of place I wished for, and feel privileged to call home. 

Kitchen reno

Two weeks without our kitchen and powder room as of today. 

My people have been troopers thus far, for which I am ever so grateful.  It's far from pleasant being squeezed into one room where we have to relax, prepare and eat our meals.  There's not much wiggle room- and I used to think our family room was big. 

It dawned on me the other day that this process is amounting to much like training for a long race.  The first few miles (weeks) produce excitement, because your energy level is at it's highest and you have dreamy hopes of what you'll accomplishment.  Then come the middle miles.  Settling into one's pace happens here, and the mental toughness is drawn out, as the body is taxed.  Arriving at the halfway point can be a milestone mentally- if you know when that point is (in a renovation it's not so obvious).  The last few miles require the training one has done to be put into practice.  All those pace workouts, hill repeats and long runs, were in preparation for the last bit, when the body is most tired and ready to give up.  Here is when one hits the proverbial wall. 

So where are we in this run?  If I had to guess, somewhere still in the first third of the race.  We've settled into a routine; as much as we can given the circumstances.  We aren't complaining much.  It's still somewhat fun- I say that lightly of course.  Some aspects are enjoyable, and some are not.  Friends that came by in the beginning wouldn't notice much change at this juncture. 

The best part of this process is learning to be content, flexible and patient.  God is drawing this out in all of us. 

Our neighbors have even brought dinner or allowed us to cook at their place.  This is no small thing!  My love for my neighbors has only grown.  Four years ago when we moved in, I wouldn't have expected such a thing, but it's been delightful to watch our neighborhood grow and become a place of good old fashioned kindness.  We are blessed.

That day

That day arrived.  The one where you catch you breath after seeing the large white envelope in the mail.  Where your fingers can't move fast enough to open it, and your vision blurs instantly with the tears.  She's been matched.

Fourteen months in the kennel, three separate trainers, several sightings by me, and she's done with it all.  Off to live the life she was bred for, giving "independence and dignity" to the blind person she now calls her own.

Few people understand this feeling of loss, and pride simultaneously.  No one finds it easy to give them back, NO ONE.  It's why The Seeing Eye struggles to find families willing to raise their puppies.  There's a searing sense of emptiness for days, even weeks following their departure.  Why not just avoid it all together?  Why even raise a puppy if you'll not see them again?  Sacrifice, that's why.

This culture of ours has lost the art of sacrifice.  Webster's defines it as : "forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one thought to have a greater value or claim."  Raising Ester was a true lesson in sacrifice for our family.  Time, energy, resources, and emotion were invested into her daily.  Did the kids want to go out and play?  Absolutely, but Ester had to be exercised first.  Do we want to go away for the weekend?  Sure, but we had to find dog care for her or we couldn't go.  Ultimately, giving her back to The Seeing Eye meant relinquishing any hold we had on her as a family member.  Her purpose, her role in the future COULD NOT happen without our seeing her future blind person as more valuable than ANY desire we had to keep her.  This is the essence of sacrifice.  Whatever I desire surrounding that puppy, must be less than my desire to see her change a life.

 I'm saddened by the cultural shift in our thinking, as of late.  When raising these puppies, the first question is always- "how do you do it- the giving up?" Why must strangers see the parting as the pivotal moment we raisers have?  There are thousands of moments that define the relationship we build with our puppies.  Hours of training, and exposure, and of course, love, go into making them well rounded and adventurous. The shame is in wiping out all of those moments, for the one that is the hardest.  When we allow hard moments to keep us from doing good, and right for others, we have welcomed selfishness in it's place.

That's not the kind of place I want my home to be.  So we press on, loving that fact that we have successfully raised a working Seeing Eye dog. 

"Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others as more significant than yourselves." Philippians 2:3