Balance

Our family's 16-year-old puppy was involved in a bad accident last Friday afternoon- the result was a traumatic brain injury. We have worked hard over the past several days to help his recovery. I'm especially proud of my children, who have stepped up in big ways.

I'm happy to report that he can now get himself to his food bowl and water dish to eat and drink as he pleases. When we take him outside, he can empty his bladder and move his bowels as necessary without assistance. He's walking, sometimes even running.

But when he stands still, or walks slowly, he stumbles around like a drunken sailor on his first shore leave. I believe that part of the problem is neurological- that he's still trying to get his brain and his legs back on the same page. The other part of the problem is his hearing. His hearing was limited before- now it seems to be completely gone. I don't know if we can expect it to return- somehow I doubt it. In any case, I'm certain that part of his balance issues have to do with the fact that he can no longer hear. In humans, the inner ear helps to detect the position of the body with respect to gravity as well as the motion of the body. I'm not a vet, but I'm guessing it's similar in dogs.

In the New Testament, the Apostle Paul used various parts of the human body to illustrate the importance of the variety of gifts necessary in the Church, the body of Christ. The complexity of the human body (and other animals for that matter) never ceases to amaze me. For example, how the ears can impact one's sense of balance, which is mostly carried by the lower body. It's miraculous.

It's only been six days since the dog's accident, and I expect his recovery to continue over several more weeks, but I'll be interested to see how he learns to adjust and compensate for the losses he has suffered in order to keep living a productive life.

Sometimes life throws something at us that knocks us off balance. We may not possess the necessary resources to get us back on our feet. But thanks be to God, we have confidence that someone else does. And their commitment to the body often compels them to offer what they have in order to offset what we do not. We are connected to one another. We share each others' joy and sorrow. And by standing together, we find the solid footing that our body needs to keep going.

An Expensive Wild Pitch

My two oldest children were playing catch in the backyard last Friday afternoon. Actually, our oldest was practicing his pitching. Both of them came running into the house in a panic after a pitch got away and struck our 16-year-old rat terrier directly in the head.

My wife and I ran out to see our "first born" (we got Zeke before we started having children) and knew that it was very bad. It looked like he was dying. We wrapped him up and took him to our vet. She was able to stabilize him and then send us to the animal ER.

The kids were beside themselves. They couldn't believe that this might be the end for our family dog and that their actions were the cause. We did our best to reassure them that this was nothing more than a bad accident and how they cannot go through life always looking in the rear-view mirror about what could have/would have/should have happened if only...

Zeke spent 24 hours in the ER before coming home. Once home, he started eating and is now making a slow recovery. We know he has a long way to go and we know that there may be some permanent damage because of his traumatic brain injury, but we are grateful that he seems to have escaped the worst of it.

The vet bill and the ER bill were not cheap. But I must also say how proud I am of how our family handled this experience together and how the kids have stepped up to care for Zeke during his recovery. I believe that we have been responsible stewards of the animal entrusted to our care. And I believe that deep down, our puppy can sense the deep love that he is receiving.  

All in all, it was an expensive wild pitch. But having the opportunity to see the best of us under the worst kind of circumstance has been priceless.

For My Friend Rodney Lyons

I'm doing a funeral for a friend this afternoon. I first met Rodney when his youngest son and my oldest son were assigned to the U4 soccer team that I was coaching. I remember him telling me how glad he was that I was coaching. Not because I was a good coach (this was my first experience with kids' soccer,) but because it meant that he wouldn't have to do it.

I took offense to that at first, but I quickly discovered the gift that Rodney would give me. He had coached his older kids, and this time around, he could enjoy watching his son just as a dad on the sideline. But because he had coached before, he knew the challenges and demands associated with being a volunteer coach in a community youth sports organization. Rodney gave me the gift of being the most supportive parent I could ever imagine.

Over the next several years, I came to seek Rodney's advice on issues that would come up and he would always answer with wisdom. He would also respect the decisions I made about the team, even when he might have made different choices. 

In a society where parents sometimes lose perspective and become blinded by their own kid, Rodney was a beacon of how a person can love and support their child, respect the child's coach, and appreciate the joy of getting to see youngsters develop their skill and confidence over the course of a season.

Rodney was diagnosed with cancer nearly four years ago and given three months to live. He fought hard every day since then and lived with a determination to soak up every remaining breath of life. It was not unusual for me to see Rodney watching games from his car in the parking lot on the days when it was just too much to walk across the complex.

He entered the Church Triumphant on Wednesday morning and takes his place among the saints who have lived and died in the faith. I hope that as Rodney finds his room in God's great mansion, he will discover that his room comes with a window that provides a magnificent view of the ball fields.