Like a Pup

Friday afternoon
August 28

We're on foot, crossing through the rotunda-- a considerable sea of traffic whose rip tide we're waiting to ride across the highway to safety on the other side. There, a long line at the police station will greet us. It's just Miguel and me, and we're getting fingerprinted again. This time, we're applying for student visas.

In line, I see people I look just like, whose language I do not speak. There are Germans, French and other North American missionaries. We take turns observing one another when we think the other doesn't notice. Our differences provide intrigue, yet so do our similarities, so the waiting is full of amusement.

Miguel has already done the math, so I'm the scribe while he presents our height in meters and our weight in kilos. Next is the address line-- only there are no street names, so it's appropriate to describe our address by:
-noting a landmark (ours is the hardware store)
-whether we're to the north or south and how many meters
-including the side of the street, color of house and whether or not it's single story
...So that takes a bit of time, as I'm translating my weak English directions into weaker Spanish ones.

At this point, I've resigned myself to reality. I am like a helpless, fond puppy following my benevolent Master here and there. In my previous California life, I felt reasonably confident. Run to the store to pick up a few things for dinner? Simple. I would jump in a dependable car, which I may or may not lock as it waited patiently for me in a smoothly paved parking lot. Groceries in tow, I would push a button, whereby the car would automatically unlock, graciously awaiting my groceries.

Now: Hmmm... there are a few things I need for dinner. Where are comfortable shoes? Will I be back before dark, when the safety factor is sketchy. Who will I take to help carry the items? Which route will be smartest for street crossing? Do I really need these things or can I make something creative with what's on hand... while my mind is weighing the factors, I hear myself calling out, "Don Miguel, are you up for a trip...?" whereby he is out the door, personal bags in tow, now considering all these things on my behalf, my benevolent master. He knows my thoughts.

A grateful heart renders her benevolent master to be her most precious gift. An ungrateful one finds something to be dissatisfied with. I confess to days of choosing the latter.


After the Police Station

We're street-crossing again, fingerprints bagged, I question:
"Why are you the one who is so competent, and I am like a helpless puppy? I can't think fast enough, or listen carefully enough and when I cross the street, my heart is beating so loud, I can hear it in my head, and it makes my head hurt. And why do you know exactly what to buy and all the best prices at the most reasonable places, taking the most prudent route...before I've even finished a list? Why are all these things unclear to me and so clear to you? I think slowly. I talk slowly. I move slowly. You do these things with such ease."

"Crystal, Tengo que vivir la vida," He squeezes my hand, guiding me through a narrow place in the street. I am anxious because of my purse. I never carry a purse anymore, but one is necessary today. He puts his hand on my shoulder, "Your neck is tense. Stop worrying about the purse." How does he know I'm thinking about the purse?

"I don't get tense. Remember, I'm the carefree one. I'm the one between the two of us who likes adventure," I insist.

"Tengo que vivir la vida," He repeats, " You have to live your life." I know what he's trying to say. "Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be."

He knows I am the nervous chihuahua: shaking, tediously looking about me back and forth back and forth... scanning, scannning, scanning... he is alert, as well, but somehow, when we get home, he's jovially playing with the children, and I'm nearly passed out on the bed, exhausted, head aching, falling asleep before he realizes I'm gone.


Darkness

So now, I'm thinking about the possibility of something really great. It will take deliberate effort until I'm well-trained, and this could take some time. I've decided that I want to be a good listener. I want to be a good listener and a happy follower.

If I'm going to acknowledge the reality: cross-cultural living is taking some time for me to adjust to; therefore, I'm somewhat like a timid pup, then it follows that what I am defines how I act. This being the case, I've decided to be the pup that listens carefully. Instead of anxiously looking about, I'd like to listen, then believe. What command does my benevolent master speak?

"Do you think I'm not protecting you every step of the way? Do I not have what is best for you in mind?" He says, as we're safe on the sidewalk again. Anxiousness is failing to trust my master. When he assures me of his nurturing protection, I will listen. I will seek to understand. Then understanding, I will believe, thus changing my responses without ever really trying. He speaks. I'm listening, for I am cared for by one who seeks my very best in all things.

I don't have to try to be happy. Cheer flows spontaneously from the heart that listens to, understands, then believes her master. Happy following takes little effort for the devoted pup who delights in her master's every command. She knows these commands flow from the heart that bursts with love for her.

I remember learning in college that the word worship is derived from a word that means to adore, like a little pup at the feet of her master, bounding gleefully back and forth, as pleasing and delightful as a little companion could possibly be. It's helpful to me to understand that
happily following Miguel is like chasing after my Daddy in Heaven-- my ultimate, benevolent Master, whose every command flows from a heart bursting with love for me. Instead of complaining and asking why, I have the opportunity to shamelessly trust the One whose nurturing protection includes legions of angels surrounding me, when I call for help. I jump at his heels, begging for another opportunity to obey a command and receive a reward. I am eager to please: listening, understanding, believing... then happily following.

This is worship.

Being a helpless, fond pup isn't so bad after all.