Boots McBlog

The summer after kindergarten, my dad took a chance to follow a lifelong dream.   He packed his bags with two weeks full of clothes, put a few containers of my mom’s lemon cake cookies in the car, and headed to Kansas City to attend Auctioneer School.     Weeks prior and post his attendance,  he trained himself for successful rapid articulation by listening to and repeating over and over various tongue twisters.

My five year old ears molded around those silly words.   Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers became a sing song.   Followed by, “Tommy Attat-a-mus took two tees, tied them to the top of two tall trees.”   That summer, my dad graduated top of his auctioneer class, and I, his mockingbird daughter, had acquired a lifelong skill – or at least a stupid human trick.

 

To this day, I can recite any of the above lyrics at warp speed.   Friends have asked to record it to make it their ring tone for me.   I haven’t obliged.   They particularly get a kick out of my favorite tongue twister to “perform”  – which  I can say in about 6.7 seconds (yeah,  I might have timed myself once or twice.)    Give it a shot and see how you do…

Betty Botter bought some butter,
“But,” she said, “the butter’s bitter;
If I put it in my batter,
It will make my batter bitter;
But a bit of better butter,
That would make my batter better.”

So she bought a bit of butter,
Better than her bitter butter,
And she put it in her batter,
And the batter was not bitter;
So ’twas better Betty Botter
Bought a bit of better butter.

 

Good ol’ Betty.

Even as I race through her story, I’m thankful she’s the rhyme that sticks with me the most.

I need to be reminded constantly about bitter versus better.

There are times in our lives things don’t go as planned.   I’ve sat across from friends who have told me their grand schemes and dreams to improve their business.  They hit some snags and obstacles.  The business fell apart or stayed exactly the same.   I know folks who in the midst of the rat race received a diagnosis that set them on a totally different life course.   There are parents whose children can’t keep up with the other kids due to disabilities.   There are women who in addition to children and husband and job are finding themselves caring for a parent or sibling.   Families have broken apart because somebody got bored.   Jobs went away.  Savings accounts demolished.   I know good people who did all the hard work and somebody else took all the credit.   What about the girl who finally finds the perfect guy  until he turns out not to be not so perfect.   4000 miles were logged on the treadmill and the scale didn’t move one inch.    The dream job is a nightmare. Somebody smeared another’s reputation …for the fun of it.    You name it, we probably have  been in one of these scenarios.     It’s no wonder we often feel – Disappointed.  Angry.  Confused.  Exhausted.

These feelings are normal reactions.   The problem begins when we let ourselves begin to stew in these feelings.  When we allow our hearts to remain and marinate in that disappointment, anger, confusion, and exhaustion, the result is bitterness.

 

I look back on a lot of things in my life that didn’t go as planned.  We moved my sophomore year of high school.   I was the new kid.  I didn’t fit.   For years, I blamed that for many of the reasons things didn’t go like the Sweet Valley Book in my head.   I became chubby because food became  my friend.   I didn’t have a boyfriend because I was chubby.   That’s not the truth.  It’s blame and bitterness.    Twenty years later, I am thankful.  I see that God was protecting me.  In those high school years, he protected my heart and set my life on course to live for Him.

A few years ago, I had two jobs back to back that were complete and utter chaos.   They had been billed to me as opportunities for career growth.   I walked away from both experiences exhausted, disillusioned and doubting my abilities.    Initially, I felt I didn’t grow my career.  I wasted my time.  I was a little bitter.  And it showed.

Now, I can see I did learn so much.   I learned what not to do.   I learned to examine every “great” oppportunty”  with a fine tooth comb.  I built a huge network of colleagues and friends in other arenas which led to a job I like.

Whether it is high school or those disappointing gigs, I can honestly say I look back on them now and know they made me better.

I’m striving to be able to say this about all things.   I have a very long way to go.

Often the bitterness creeps in  and the snark makes its way to my tongue.   When I hear critical things people have said about me or I view a situation through my “ what about me?” lens, suddenly a floodgate of vinegar floods around my heart.   The marinating begins.  I feel it.

And I want it to stop.

I don’t want a bitter heart.   I want a better heart.

You’ve probably seen the sign – especially if you are on Pinterest:  “It can make you bitter or it can make you better.”

 

It’s true.     It’s a choice.

Sometimes those choices can come in an instant.   Sometimes it takes time.

Sometimes it’s an everyday choice of laying the bitterness down at Christ’s feet and walking away.

It just donned on me as I write this…When Christ hung on that cross over 2000 years ago,  the soldiers gave him a rag soaked in vinegar for refreshment.   He turned his head.  He didn’t take the bitterness.  (Matthew 27:34)

We should do the same.

Don’t choose the bitterness.

Be a Betty.

Buy a bit of better butter.   Put it in your bitter batter.

It will make your batter.. and your heart better.

 

 

graciously,

Boots

xxoo

Hearts break every day.   Some for reasons we can easily explain.  Others will remain a mystery.   In the scheme of the world with famine, broken families, lost jobs, disease, death of loved ones, sick children, and “real” strife,  it seems silly to say my heart breaks today because my dog died.

 

But here it is- my heart – broken into a thousand pieces, tears streaming down my cheeks because my Sadie Francis is gone.

 

My precious, Sadie Francis was a gift.  I was never supposed to have her.   But I’m glad I did.

 

Five years ago,  a friend called to say her neighbor had puppies to give away.  The mom dog – Annie  was a beautiful Silky Terrier.  She looked just like my Finley.  Frail boned and a silky mane.   My friend curiously wondered -  did I want a puppy.  They were free.   You see,  pretty Annie had escaped a puppy mill.   She was rescued by a warm heart in the Heights.  When her new owner John took her in,  he had no idea she was with child(ren).   Before he knew it,  Annie and her 5 pups had taken over his guest room.

I was in Dallas when I got the call.  Just a few days before the Angler and I celebrated our 8th anniversary.  I had that baby itch at the time.  (Something I’ve never admitted)   Timing wasn’t favorable to pursue children.  So,  I begged the Angler to let me have a puppy as an anniversary gift. He said no.

 

When I returned from Texas,  I stopped by John’s house and two puppies remained – a rambunctious boy and an anti-social girl.  John had already named her Sadie.   She had black eyes, black lips, and crazy eyelashes.  I scooped her up and she wrapped her front paws around my hand and  her little self around my heart.   All 1.5 pounds of her wanted down immediately – she hated being held.

 

I brought her home.  Now the score was even.  Two girls  (me and her)  against two boys ( The Angler and Finley-dog).  The boys were not happy.

 

We spent a few days anguishing over a name for her.  I had always wanted Finley to have a co-hort named Francis.  But “Sadie” seemed to fit her brown eyes.  So, like her adopted momma and any good southern girl – she got a double name.   Sadie Francis.    If you look it up in a baby names book   Sadie means princess.  Francis means free.   She was my free princess.

 

 

In time we all grew to love her, even Finley.  She carried a certain joy with her.  She was the kind of dog who smiled. She loved to play – with Finley all the time and with us if we had a laser pointer.  She never ever ever once growled at us.  She loved to bury herself in fresh laundry and soft blankets.  At night, she tunneled under the blankets between me and The Angler.  Then she would sneak to put her head on his pillow.

 

 

 

When emotions ran high or voices grew loud, she’d hide…in the bathtub.  She learned to seek solace in the bathroom from me.

She sat in my lap anytime we watched the Hogs play football on television. She hated those whistles and the excited commentary.

 

She loved walks over the Big Dam Bridge or through the neighborhood.  She did not like wearing clothes – much to my dismay.  However,  she gladly sported her pink harness and leash  which matched her bright pink tongue.   And she knew her shoes….well, my shoes.   She knew that when I put on my TOMS – there was a good chance she was going for a walk.  She knew me well, I didn’t wear flats without a reason.

 

Unlike her dog brother or mother who were fine boned and petite,  Sadie Fran was thick and stout – she was a big girl.  We often joked that she was “big boned-ed”  Ah, how she loved her carbs…especially Wheat Thins and cupcakes (just like her momma).

Perhaps the most peculiar thing about Sadie – is that she did not like here picture taken.  The vet once said she was an Austrailian Terrier not a Silky Terrier.  We thought – well, that explains it -she’s Aborigine. She’s afraid we were stealing her soul.  No matter how stealthy I was with my iPhone – she just somehow knew and would dodge any chance of a shot.  Yes,  Sadie Francis was a weirdo that way.

 

In the High Profile interview I did a few years ago,  I was asked how The Angler would describe me.  My answer: “ He’d say I’m a lot like our dog Sadie Francis – smart, spunky, and hard to handle”

 

 

 

I’d still answer that question the same way today.   Indeed, Sadie was always curious – opening cabinets, turning pages of magazines left on the floor, or rooting behind furniture.    She was always ready to play, yet never wanted to be held.  She was always by our side, but affection was given on her own terms.  (just like her momma) Her affections came when she would put her head on my feet when she was sleeping or how she would sit beside me when I was sad.  She would lick tears occasionally.  She’d sneak a morning kiss right on the smacker while I slept.  And when I needed a listening ear,  she’d tilt her head as if she were really listening.    She was our comforter when we all said goodbye to Finley a year ago.   She was a trooper.  Never missed a beat.  She stepped right up and assumed the role of lead dog in the house and in our hearts.

 

 

 

The unexpected news that our sweet 4 year old dog had lymphoma hit us hard a few weeks ago.   We had no idea how quickly it would ravage her little body.    The Angler and I made a vow to not let her suffer.   Her breathing became more labored over the last few days.  And today – the vet confirmed – it was time.

 

The last few hours I spent with her, we walked the bridge, ate chips and cheese dip, and  split a chocolate cupcake.  Because we all know chocolate is bad for dogs, we never let her have chocolate.  Today, I figured she couldn’t leave this world without trying it at least once.  Every carb-o-holic knows that.  She loved it — licked all the icing off my fingers.  Her last day was a good day of love and comfort.  The way I think it should be for all of us.

 

The McCottage is empty of the sound of paws tonight.   In the 12 years we’ve been here,  this is a first.  We’ve never been dog-less.  We used to be the weird couple with dogs.   Now, we’re just the weird couple.

The weird couple who will miss her so very much.

 

The Angler and I are both struggling to justify our feelings of loss in a world with much bigger hurts around us.   We know we’ve made the right decision to let her go. It’s just one of those days, it really stinks being a grown up.   We’ve been saying our prayers- hoping it doesn’t seem selfish to ask comfort for our hearts as we adjust to quiet days ahead of us.  We’re thankful God entrusted a piece of his creation to us – a piece that taught us how we should love – unconditionally.

Do I think we’ll see her again in heaven?  I definitely think so.    Some theologians may want to argue scripture, but my former pastor once said when asked the “do dogs go to  heaven?” question,

“heaven is always more, and never less.”

 

I believe that.   I believe it with all my heart.

 

I also believe there is no such thing as a free dog.  It always costs you a piece of your heart…

 

but it’s so very worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tuesdays are the days I’ve chosen to write about lessons in grace the last couple of years.  It seems fitting that December 20 would fall on a Tuesday this year.  You see, ten years ago today, I was put on a journey of finding God’s grace in all things.

Actually the lesson started years before in my college Physics class. There was this girl with long dark curls, skin like Snow White and ruby red lips.  She’d slinked into her front row seat wearing her Chi Omega Sweatshirt.    I hated her.  She set the curve on every test – A curve that would often leave me and the rest of us barely hanging on with a passable grade.

We spent half a semester – her setting the curves on the test and me wondering why of all classes this beautiful, test-acing genius had to be in MY class. Then, as God would have it, not only did this Hoot Owl have the nerve to ruin my GPA, she showed up on Easter… in my hometown church… in my Sunday School class. I couldn’t get away from this girl.   I was forced to finally introduce myself.

Turns out she wasn’t only smart and pretty,   she was nice.

The next week, my phone rang .  It was her.  She invited me to a party to watch the Final Four Basketball games at one of my friend’s houses.    She was friends with my friends?    How did I not know this girl?   And more importantly, why did she invite me to watch Basketball?  Basketball?!   In my head, I knew this friendship wasn’t going to work.   To be friendly and social, I said yes.

That night we traded war stories of our college paths.  We talked about music, about clothes, about our faith.    She was a tomboy.   I was a girly girl.   But,  That night we discovered we were sisters in Christ.   More than that – we had each found a kindred spirit,  a friend.

 

Over the next 6 years,  Katherine would teach me more than physics.

She taught me to…

Laugh.   And not just laugh but to laugh. out. loud.  Not a quiet ladylike laugh.   NO, a real honest to goodness  laugh.  A laugh so loud it makes everyone in the room turn to look at you.   A laugh until you think you might pee your pants kind of laugh.

Pray. She was a prayer warrior.  In those days before emails and texts,  it wasn’t uncommon to get a voice message from her praying for me or  to find letters in the mail with verses  she thought I needed .   She was in communion with the spirit and it showed in her discernment.   She always knew the right thing to say.

Say I love you.   It’s silly, but the girl loved her bubblegum.   One of the only fights we ever had was after a 7 day road trip halfway across the country together and the girl was going through great bubble at an incredible rate.   On day 7 retuning home, we were both on edge.  The more anxious she got the more she’d chew.  The more she’d chew the more my nerves wore raw at that smacking sound.  I couldn’t take it, and a few hours from home I lost all composure and yelled, “JUST STOP IT!!”   We were silent the rest of the trip.    By the time I drove in her driveway,  I was done.  We were over.

Days passed, she called and acted like nothing happened.   I finally said, “You’re not mad at me?”    She replied, “Mad?  Sisters yell each other like that all the time.  We’re ok.”   That night as we were getting off the phone, I apologized again and said, “I love you”.

I love you.   I don’t know where it came from.   It was foreign for those words to come out of my mouth.  I had never taken the initiative to say that to anyone – except my parents,   much less a friend.     In hindsight, I’m so glad I said it.  I did love her.  She was the closest thing to a sister I had ever known.    From then on, we ended our conversations saying, “I love you, dear friend”

 

 

There’s a million other things she taught me,  but of all of them the most life transforming one is this…

Be bold. Imagine two small town girls take Manhattan.   I don’t know how we packed so much life into 2.5 days, but we did.   We shopped, dined with the stars (Jerry Seinfield!) at Balthazar, took in a Broadway show of Les Mis, sipped Champagne in Soho, and spent the day getting beautiful at Frederik Fekkai.

Ooo la la.  Frederik Fekkai was the highlight our trip.   We were whisked into the salon and introduced to our masseuses, followed by our “hair designers” …our FAAAHB-U- LOUS hair designers.  Now, remember we were small town Arkies in the big city in the late 90s.   Katherine’s hair guru was smitten with her from the moment they met.  They were laughing and giggling.  From time to time, I could her loud guffaw across the salon.   Then, I heard her say something that made me want to crawl under the building.  “So, are you a Christian?   Do you believe in Jesus Christ?”

Are you kidding me?    Here we were in New York City at an upscale salon.  I was dying of embarrassment.  I’m talking to my guy about proper blow-out, roll brush technique.   Meanwhile she has engaged her hair designer in a lively discussion about salvation.    I just knew he couldn’t get her out of his chair fast enough.

I was wrong.  We left that afternoon with his phone number and invitation to attend an Oscar’s Watch Party at Candace Bushnell’s apartment.  He wanted to show off his Arkansas friends.  He said there was just something different about us.   We were over the moon flattered.   We declined the invitation; we had a plane to catch.   She didn’t lead him to Christ that day, but I know she boldly planted that seed.    She planted those seeds wherever she went.

She was Bold, Passionate.  Unashamed.   Full of life.  That was Katherine.

On December 20, 2001 the phone call came…THE phone call.  This young woman,  so full of life,  was gone.  Katherine – the bold, beautiful, passionate genius was gone.  I type it and still can’t believe it.   She died a little after 7pm of natural causes.   She laid down for a nap after feeding her newborn son and woke up dancing in front of the Throne of God.    While she danced before the Lord, I was crumpled on the floor.  I quit breathing for a really long time.  I learned that night, week, month, year what it means to wail, to need the spirit to intercede.

On December 23, 2001, we gathered together to celebrate Katherine’s life.   It was a beautiful service and it was a celebration.  Her passion, her joy, her love of the LORD was reflected.   It was the first time in days, I smiled.

The Pastor mentioned in his eulogy that God gives each of us a particular mission in life.  When we are done with that mission, he calls us home.   He wondered aloud, “I wonder who or what Katherine’s final mission was?”

If you knew me ten years and met me today,  it’s quite likely I’m a completely different person.    I’m not sure what her last mission was, but I can tell you I was part of her mission.   She changed my life.

It took her passing and deep reflection of our friendship to teach me to laugh more,  to not take myself so seriously,   to be someone who  prays  for and encourages others,   to be the one to say, “I love you” first,   and to live my life and faith boldly, unashamed, and  with passion.

Ten years later,  I can  look back on a tremendous, heart scarring loss and know God  has always been and  is doing something infinitely great. That  is grace.

Yes, God does great things in strange ways.   No other time of year is that evident than Christmas.   He loves us so very much he sent his very own son to be born in a dirty barn in Bethlehem, to live among people, to die on a cross, and to resurrect from the grave to save us from sin… to bring us to him.

Isn’t that Amazing?   Isn’t that grace?      That God loves us so much he sent his son to bring us to Him

And even more amazing… sometimes, he sends us a life changing best friend, too.

 

 

 

“You think this is just another day in your life?

It’s not just another day.

It’s the ONE day that is given to you – today.

It’s given to YOU.

It’s a gift.

And the only appropriate response is…

gratefulness.”

 

If it’s a day set aside for Thanksgiving or an average ordinary day,  may we learn to always arrive with cupped hands and grateful heart for what God gives us.

Happy Thanksgiving, Y’all.

boots

xxoo

Last week was filled with all the exhilaration one should expect from the MLB World Series. The highs and lows. The heartbreaks. The mishaps. The absolutely, incredible miracles no one saw coming. Most of all, the thrill of victory.

Sounds a lot like the journey my career has taken the last few years.

Back in January, I actually made rare post about baseball. I was getting the urge to get back in the career game. Then, late this summer, after many prayers and lots of God given discernment, a most fitting opportunity arrived.

On Oct 3rd, I donned a business dress and heels and went back to the 8-5 world . I couldn’t be more thrilled. My teammates are awesome, encouraging…and NICE. (Seriously, once you work with an extreme meanie, “nice” becomes very important on the list of job wants). The new gig is allowing me to put my strategic thinking brain, my non profit experience, and my healthcare background to use in one spot.

While the new hours make it a little more difficult to blog on a regular basis, I plan to continue my posts as feasible. I’m already drafting the next Gracious Leadership post. I’ve got a fun post brewing for this week’s Favorite Things Friday. You may have noticed, I’ve been trying to start the week off with a motivational quote.

As a bonus, I’ve been busy making my new space conducive to creative thinking and I’ll be blogging my DIY projects, along with the final “reveal” of the McOffice in the next few weeks.

My sweet friends, thank you for continuing to swing by this ol blog and for all the many cheers you’ve given me during the nearly 2 years I’ve been sitting down to write. You are a precious gift.

Good things are happening on the McBlog and even better things are happening in real life.

I’m sticking my catcher’s mitt out and hoping I don’t miss a single thing to be thankful for.

gratefully yours,

boots

xxoo