Taking Root

We made our way to an empty spot in the corner. Anxious anticipation left almost no room for the bodies. Little feet tripped, timid hearts cried out. I kept him close to me, close so he could feel my steadiness in the swelling tension. He looked at me, eyes wide and searching. "It's going to be okay, right?" he asked without words. "You're going to be okay," I said. He leaned his body into mine and I leaned back. Everything would be alright. 

All this: waiting, anxiety, leaning, trusting...for a follow-up appointment with the Vet. During our last visit he endured much more than either of us expected, and although the treatment was for his benefit, today's apprehension was reasonable. There we were, back again at a place unpreferred for a purpose surpassing his comprehension. And yet he didn't bolt for the door or act out in terror or anger, because of his trust in me. I told him he would be okay, and he believed me. 

When we got home I praised him and then set about to wash the sheets. On my walk to the laundry room I thought of a little boy: the one I taught to speak. First the letters and their sounds, simple sentences, then more complex. He mimics my soft "th" in thing, gentler than a more brisk "th" in the. He believes me when I pronounce d-o-e-s as "duz" instead of, well, "does," while neither reason nor rule can explain why. 

This trust-- confidence in the validity and authority of my words-- never fails to humble me. I know my weaknesses, I'm aware of the limitations of my knowledge, my head hangs at the memory of all the times I've been impatient, inconsistent. 

And yet, this little boy calls my name and searches my soul with eyes big and wide and trusting. He seeks truth. He tests his experiences against it. He craves the warm & fuzzies of hearing truth repeated. 

"Ms. Jac'yn, we don't push people, right?" 
"That's right, we don't push people."

He reflects for a moment and tells me of a boy at school who got in trouble for pushing. 

"Ms. Jac'yn, it's not nice to say, 'You're not my friend. Get away from me!' right?" 
"That's right, it's not a very nice thing to say. What's a nicer way to say we don't want to play?" He recites a few of the "kind" phrases we've practiced. 

"Ms. Jac'yn, the ocean is too dangerous, right? A shark will eat us, right?" 

I hear the influence of those around him in his questions. He's heard me say not to push people but because he sees it happen he needs to come back and be assured. I've modeled kind phrases he might use socially but because emotional webs are sticky and appear out of nowhere, he needs direction for his heart and others'. Maybe we've never talked about ocean safety but someone has communicated fear, and he wants to fact-check. 

As I pour laundry soap my legs recall the weight of Emerson's lean as we were surrounded by fur and breath and chaos. My mind hears the sweet, sweet voice of a little boy repeating constantly, "right Ms. Jac'yn?" as he tests the whole world against my words. I put the pieces together and see that this, this, is how my Father wants me to trust him. 

In unpreferred waiting rooms do I lean on Him or on my own understanding of the situation? Do I mimic the tones of his voice? Do I run to his ear to fact-check, just because I enjoy his truth? When He tells me I'll be okay, do I believe it?

These are my models for trust: the beautiful faith-filled hearts of children (and pets), secure and precious. Their faith is profound and my frame senses its thirst for deeper roots.  

It's so easy to become confused and scared and unsure. The serpent of old hisses syrupy, asking us to believe in our experiences and wisdom, instead of putting both under the authority of the Word. But as we learn to take each thing back to our Authority, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, he is so good to clean the gunk out of our ears and wrap us in flawless truth. 

What did God say about the one who trusts him? He is blessed. She will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

Trust is the beginning. It starts at the root, in the depth of my heart. Trust establishes my stance and steadies my soul. It precedes fruit, and makes me "blessed." 

Big Sur Camping Trip

Merry Christmas, Chris & Happy Memorial Day, Hoover Family! We spent the long weekend camping in Big Sur, CA. Beautiful coastline, towering trees and the Big Sur River. In California it is nearly impossible to successfully plan a last-minute camping trip during the summer season (as we've learned over the last few summers), so for Christmas I decided to book a campsite for Memorial Weekend as Chris's Christmas present. I filled a huge bin with all-things camping and six months later, it all made for a perfect family getaway. 


In California it is also nearly impossible to get out of L.A. in less than 3 hours. Traffic was pretty ugly but for the most part we were unshaken- just happy to have the day...and then a few extra...off of work. Strangely, once the road cleared, Emerson's stomach began to churn and by the end of the next 2 hours he had thrown up twice and peed once in his little bed. With our own personal histories of car sickness we couldn't honestly be angry but I did not think it was an unreasonable suggestion that we stop off at the next car dealership and trade in the Jeep for something less defiled.  A couple of road shoulders and a carton of antibacterial wipes later though, we managed to make it to our campground after a whopping 7.5 hours in the car! (Chris was a champ driver!) As is typical on our first night of camping anywhere, Emerson spent the post-sunset hours trying to figure out why we weren't back in the car, headed to the safety and cleanliness of home. Not wanting to sit in the dirt, he insisted on getting inside the tent and calling it a night while Chris & I enjoyed hot chocolate by the fire. 


On Saturday, after a masterful camping breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast & coffee (thank you, my husband!), we followed the strict directions of our campground host to a dog-friendly beach. 

Chris & Emer ran through the waves, played fetch and explored the rocky hillside with me. Emerson dug in the sand as if some innate digging force had taken over his body and was powering his paws. Ears straight back in terror, he dug fiercely in circles, finally darting away from the created holes and onto the safe family beach towel (not that he was really invited on the towel).  We could almost hear him thinking as he dug, "I don't know what I'm doing but I can't stop! I'm getting out of here!!" *Insert Mommy & Daddy head shaking*

After learning that there were not many dog-friendly hiking trails in the area, we got an early start on Sunday to hit the one trail we'd be able to tackle with the baby. It was a beautiful day- warmer than the day before but not so hot that hiking would be unbearable. Should dogs (or anyone) drink water from the river & creeks? We're not sure but Emerson could not be stopped on some occasions and would have followed the water sources all the way to the ocean if we hadn't insisted that he "leave it." After 2.5 miles, we found ourselves in the Ventana Wilderness- a scenic stopping point before heading into back-country camping spots.

Knowing that we'd have to repeat the 2.5 miles and sensing that Emerson was just about done for the day, we turned around and beat the noon sun back to the car. Emerson did, in fact, sleep for the rest of the day and when he finally arose in the early evening to eat & drink, his legs wobbled as though he were 10 years old and arthritic. Nature kicked his wrinkled little butt! One other thing worth noting about the trip was the late-night/early morning chilly temperatures. Armed with cold-defying mummy bags, Chris & I were set. Emerson on the other hand, woke up freezing to death every night and immediately took shelter inside Chris's sleeping bag. This resulted in half-asleep wars between the two of them over the warmth of the bag, nails scratching skin, etc. Not pretty.  On the last night, we got smart and decided to have an extra sleeping bag ready. Here's what the last night/morning looked like (as predicted): 

                                                    

What can one do, other than sigh and be thankful for warmth and protection? Good thing he is loved so very, very much.

Our drive home was cleaner than the ride up, however, no shorter (unfortunately). We did make a stop along the coast to see the beached Elephant Seals. 

Emerson was so overcome with excitement that he pooped in the viewing area, sending me sprinting to the car in search of a poop bag (also winning us Citizenship accolades from the Elephant Seal Tour Guides). Oh brother. In case you haven't ever heard the horrendous noises that Elephant Seals make, Chris & I have decided that their yell sounds like the loud, horrible gurgling you hear when you're unclogging a drain and the last bits of blockage are sucked down the pipe. The fellow in the middle picture was particularly feisty and ill-tempered. The others mostly just plopped themselves on the sand, rolled into a comfortable position and, from time to time, splashed sand up onto themselves for warmth. Very funny creatures.

All in all, we had a fantastic weekend getaway! When we weren't beaching, hiking or driving, we enjoyed yummy campfire food (hot breakfast every morning, steak, bratwurst, chili, s'mores), had plenty of time to read, nap and sloooooow down. If you haven't recently spent time in nature, away from technology, media and "to-do's," we suggest you do! (call us, we'll join you!) Happy Summer! 

Setting the Pace

And we're back! Not that we went anywhere but the beat of our drum has changed a bit and we've been working to step in time. (I shouldn't have written, "step in time" because now I'll be plagued by visions of Dick Van Dyke popping up & down chimneys...*sigh) In any case, here's a little recap:

On Sunday, April 25 we were thrilled to get together with our friends, Vince & Alissa, who drove all the way from Vegas for the Angels vs. Yankees game! We had full sun, a packed stadium and a crowd-pleasing Grand Slam from the Angels. I have to admit that I always feel guilty for dawning the Angel red when really, my heart is Dodger blue. To make amends, I sang, "It's root, root, root for the Dodgers" during "Take me out to the Ball game." 

We were thrilled to learn that bringing your own food into Angel stadium is allowed! In celebration of not having to spend $40 for peanuts & 2 hot dogs, I packed a home run  picnic lunch. Here's what we ate: Turkey club sandwiches with pesto on rustic panini rolls, boulder chips, peanuts and chocolate truffle brownies. We've been eating this sandwich almost weekly ever since. You should give it a try: sliced turkey, thick bacon, lettuce, tomato and avocado. Use pesto instead of mayo/mustard...or mix pesto with a bit of mayo. YUM. 

After a fun day of baseball, I put myself to bed at 9:00pm in anticipation of work the next day! After almost completing my 3rd week back in the office, I have to say that things are going really well and I'm feeling very fulfilled in this position...but still putting myself to bed around 9:30 most nights. (adjustment) Chris has been working long hours, some weekend hours and also studying for another licensing exam in a week. Emerson thinks it's really fun that we each come home on our lunch breaks to play and give him the last bite of crust from our bread. I did, however, catch him giving me the stink-eye a few times as I left him to return to work. We've both gotten used to the idea and we try to make the most of the time we do have together (yes, I'm talking about me & the dog). 

On the weekends we've been transforming our patio into an outdoor living space and scrambling to do those pesky chores that now go undone during the week.  With ample room and sunshine, we're looking forward to summer tomatoes, rosemary, chives, cilantro, basil, green beans and mixed flowers. As we water the plants, Emerson makes a mission of sneaking up on the water and chomping it down before it can get away. I know it looks like we're shooting him with the hose but in fact, he's just barged his way between the spray and the pot. The result is always the same: a drenched and exhausted, yet well hydrated dog. 

I'm excited for the onset of summer! The nights are feeling a bit warmer and the smell of star jasmine lingers in the heat. Things we're looking forward to: family visiting this weekend and camping in Big Sur over Memorial Weekend!

Happy Birthday, Baby!

On March 23rd, we celebrated Emerson's 2nd birthday! (he hated the hat but was such a good boy to humor me for 2 minutes) Gifts included a brand new bag of food, a follow-up trip to the vet and a 2-pack of giant squeaky tennis balls. The vet gave him a bill of good health- allergies & rash are under control! The neighbors probably didn't appreciate the very loud squeaking from the new ball but, as usual, he broke the squeaker in less than 24 hours. Problem solved.

 I made cupcakes for the humans to enjoy- after all, we've made quite an investment in keeping him alive and well. On some of the cupcakes I iced a few of his all-time favorites: ice, pine cones, food, napping. Here are a few random facts you may or may not know about the baby:


1. He was born on Easter, 2008. He's our Easter egg!
2. His full name is Emerson Hoover: White Baby of Cypress. "Emerson Charles Hoover" when he's really bad. 
3. He doesn't seem to know that he is a dog. When we talk about "doggie(s)," he always looks over his left shoulder, as if he will find them there. We hope he's never caught unaware by a doggie on the right! 
4. When he was 3 months old, he fell into my parents' pool and sank like a rock. Chris jumped in & pulled him out. The baby was seemingly unscathed; Chris' wallet was soaked & his phone busted. 
5. He loves to be "naked," aka: without his collar on. We take it off, tell him he's naked and he runs around like a little horse. 
6. He lays all 70lbs. of himself right on top of us with no hesitation, yet grunts with immense annoyance when we adjust position or move him away. How dare we, right?!
7. He is allergic to bee stings. We thought we were going to lose him one morning after he'd snapped a bee out of the air & was stung on the tongue. Fortunately the vet knew right away that it was an allergic reaction. 
8. He will do anything for food, with the exception of lettuce and blueberries. 
9. His favorite toys/treats include empty yogurt containers & water bottles, tennis balls, frisbee, ice cubes, carrots and his Kong, preferably lined with peanut butter. 
10. He spends most of his time sleeping. 

Probably our favorite dog-centered discussion lately involves Emerson and 3 little kids who frequent the playground just outside of our apartment. As we come down the stairs, Emerson on-leash, one boy asks, "Is he going to poop?" This is immediately followed by another boy asking, "Does he like sticks?" This boy then waves a stick in front of Emerson's face, hoping he'll bite, and then gently throws a handful of wood chips at the ground in front of Emer. I tell him he's not into sticks but this happens every day. Emerson looks at me as if to ask, "Why does he throw sticks at me?" I shrug & announce, "Okay, it's time for our walk." On cue, a third child- a girl- starts reciting, "He doesn't have a tail!" This playground bunch runs their respective lines every time they see us. Chris created a little rap song to the questions of said kids: [begin beat box] "Is he going to poop? Is he going to poop? He doesn't have a tail! He doesn't have a tail! Does he like sticks?"....Oh what joy we've found in our little guy. :)  Happy Birthday, the Baby!

Good Mommy, Bad Bathroom

Let's just say that this week has oscillated between success and failure. Here's a little look at what's transpired so far:


Monday- began quite successfully with power-grocery shopping, dog walking and overall alertness (that's saying a lot for me on a Monday). I planned out my time well enough to be home when Chris took his lunch break, only to realize that Emerson had been locked in the guest bathroom for probably close to an hour. [If the door is not tightly shut, he head-butts it open, makes his way inside- searching for a lifted toilet lid or a heavenly pile of trash to eat out of the trash can- and then unknowingly re-butts the door, locking himself in. He doesn't bark, cry, scratch or sniff under the door. He just stands there in the dark until we finally find him. It's ridiculous.] Anyway, I won the award for worst mommy-of-the-day but housekeeper extraordinaire. *sigh.


Tuesday- lived through the toughest kickboxing class of February, finally conquered my fear of the post office lines and mailed off some packages, more shopping errands and cleaned the whole house. When I dropped off dinner for my patrons, they informed me that I'd delivered them uncooked chicken the night before. I couldn't believe it. Still can't. And that's all I have to say about that day...


Wednesday- rain clouds, as usual when I  babysit for my patrons' 10 month-old granddaughter. Was in a bit of a rush after babysitting- had to get dinner to the patrons, and of course it had to be cooked this time. Feeling nervous and a bit frazzled, I tried to leave my house without car keys, but once I reattached my head, all was fine. Later that night, Chris cleaned up the DVR of Olympics events but, starting to feel potentially under-the-weather, I squirted some Zicam up my nose and retired early. 


Today- woke up still feeling a little off; decided to skip kickboxing. Had a quiet morning to do laundry, drink my coffee and double-check my cooking plans for the remainder of the week. I opened an email from the Mother patron, declaring that last night's dinner was the best dinner they'd had, to date. "Award winning," "delicious." Thank God! I finished up the patrons' grocery shopping and rather successfully slipped past the Green Peace folks who form a mob outside the store (it's not that I don't care, I just don't like to be put on the spot!!). I thought things were going well until I realized that the grocer had not charged me for one pack of chicken and as much as I didn't want to have to face Green Peace again, I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't go back in. G.P. let me go easily due to my honesty with the store. *whew. At present, I'm feeling much healthier than 24 hours ago.


Tomorrow- I'm thinking of redeeming myself as a doggy-mommy by driving Emerson 45 miles to see a veterinarian who allegedly specializes in Olde English Bulldogges, and who, hopefully, also specializes in affordable treatment of OEBulldog rashes. It's all first-come-first-served. I hear people wait an hour or two. Blah. Finding a suitable cure would be a considerable weight lifted though. If they were to serve free samples while you wait (a la Costco) it would make my day... 


Doing a larger-scale dinner for the patrons on Saturday as they have their family over for a birthday party. Hoping that everything goes well & looking forward to crashing after that! Here's to a smooth first week of March!