Life outside myself, Part One

I'm quickly learning that I am not the center of the universe. Not even my own.

Earlier this summer I inherited a dog. My brother's shitzhu, Zeke, had not taken a liking to my new niece. The decision had to be made whether to get rid of the baby or the dog...I'm guessing the choice was pretty clear. Having wanted to get a dog since I moved into my apartment, I offered to take in Zeke, who's about 15 pounds, blind in one eye, and a bit skittish around anyone who is not his master.

Zeke's a good dog. When I go to sleep he curls up on my bed...although he likes to appear standoffish, the truth is that I've caught him venturing up toward my pillow at night. He's a low-key dog but he has his rambunctious side when he wants to play. And although he's not a dog who likes to lick people, he does run around the house and jump up on me when I get home from work...and there are few greater feelings than coming home from a hard day to find your dog happy to see you.

I'm sure every kid has bugged their parents for a pet. And, of course, their parents often acquiesce with the caveat: "but you have to look after them." It's shortly after that that kids become a bit disillusioned with the new family addition. The dog's great when he's playing fetch or licking your face...not so much fun when you have to pick up his poop or clean up when he sheds.

It's funny how I forgot about the responsibility part.

Now, let me be clear here: Zeke is by no means high-maintenance. He goes out in the morning. He goes out when I get home from work. I feed him in the evening and keep his water filled. And then we go out before I go to bed. He's a house dog, with very simple needs; he's not a behemoth that needs to go on a 2-mile walk or an energetic pest that's going to tear up the living room while I'm gone.

But I'm a 30-year-old single man who was very used to his life as a 30-year-old single man. I had my routine. I'd get up with just enough time to get in the shower and head out to work. After work, I might come home or I might stay out for the evening; if I did come home I would likely flop on the couch and take a nap as soon as I hit the door. I didn't really have a set time for winding down...if I was tired, I went to bed. I have my schedule. My routine. My life.

Funny how a 15-pound furball can disrupt that.

Now I no longer sleep in until the last minute...because I have to give myself 15-20 minutes for Zeke to do his business outside. He's a fickle dog when it comes to that--he doesn't always like to go on wet grass and sometimes, no matter how bad he's pacing, he'll walk around our building for a good 20 minutes before finally deciding to do that thing he does.

I have to be careful when I stay out after work. If I'm out too late, Zeke might not wait for me to take him out in the evening...he might just go. Even if he behaves (and he's been getting a lot better) there's still the fact that he needs fed. And at night I have to be prepared that my "well-earned" sleep could be disrupted by Zeke's biological needs.

Not only that, but there's the quiet routine that can be interrupted by surprises. Coming home after a rough day, wanting only to sit on the couch...and finding out that Zeke left me "presents" on the floor. Constantly cleaning up after him if he's sick. Finding a dog sitter if I have to head out of town. It all serves to remind me that I am no longer the sole individual in my little universe...there's a non-human entity who needs my care.

I can see why some couples have a pet before deciding to have a child. I don't for a second think that having a dog is anywhere near the responsibility of having a kid, but it's definitely a good tool to get you in the right mindset. With both, your day is no longer strictly your own. You have to work into your routine time to care for this other creature and be prepared to unexpectedly diverge from that routine when they don't play by your rules. With a dog it's simply that your job is to keep them from dying and pooping on your carpet...with a kid you get the added fun of character shaping.

And I wouldn't change it for anything. Zeke's my little buddy. He's a good dog. And I need the reminder that my life is not simply about my own little sense of self-fulfillment. And truth be told I definitely need the reminder that I'm not here to simply do what makes me happy without worrying about anyone else. This little dog reminds me that life is not about me (of course, if we could read Zeke's mind I'm sure it would be all about him).

--C

Part 2 of this will come later this week.

Every New Day

As I'm sure it is common knowledge to those who know me, it's safe to say I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown approaching my 30th birthday two weeks ago.

I've written about it several times on my old blog and even addressed it in an earlier entry here, so I'm not going to rehash it. I will just say that every since I was a child, 30 was the age that I always identified with adulthood, responsibility and maturity. Realizing that in many ways I am still very an irresponsible, immature child didn't really make that transition any easier.

But two weeks have passed and I'm 30. I'm not going to lie: it's been a good start. I've had some good happenings at work that have boosted my confidence and made life a little more secure. I'm in a relationship that is new and exciting. I'm contemplating a move this fall that will both save me money and bring me closer to my family. And I've done more extracurricular writing since turning 30 than I had done through most of my 20s (except for blogging).

I'm not naive enough to think that any of these things have happened just because I "paid my dues" throughout my 20s and now there's some sort of karma at play. Truth is, I don't know how much of my dues I paid in my 20s and I'm sure there were many lessons that were supposed to be learned during those 10 years that went in one ear and out the other. Nor do I want to get the impression out that I think all of this has happened simply because I turned 30; that would be silly as well. I'm sure there were be just as many struggles, tears and frustrations in the coming years as there were through my 20s. And to be honest, I welcome them--I learn through my tears and frustrations.

No, I fully recognize and appreciate that any "good fortune" I've had is owing to a good and gracious God who is lavishing more on me that I deserve. And I fully recognize that the past two weeks could have been absolutely hellish--and that, even if I had lost my job and apartment and been forced back to my parents house, God would still be good and gracious and it still would be more than I deserve. So as I sit here on this side of 30, two weeks into this age, my reaction is just to be dumbfounded and to laugh at the incredible goodness of God, who reminds me constantly of His presence and love, lavishing grace and mercy on me, an undeserving sinner.

In addition to the very tangible gifts I've received in the past few weeks, however, even more humbling has been the change in perspective that has arrived since my birthday. There's been a very noticeable (to me) shift in the way I look at life that, I believe, has been more beneficial than any raise or relationship could be.

I was talking to someone about this tonight. It seems that, looking back, my 20s were all about trying to get to some unforeseen destination. College existed to get me to career. Jobs existed for the purpose of advancement to...well, other jobs. Relationships existed to lead to love and love existed to lead to marriage. Faith existed to get me to some higher level of faith and relationship with God.

In short, every day was just intended to get me somewhere else. Ultimately, the unspoken belief went, everything was working to get me to some point in life where I would be happy and content. Life wouldn't truly start until I got to that point, which I came to believe meant life as a published author, married with 2 or 3 kids, living more comfortably than I was that day.

I'm not knocking goals; I would still love to be published and I hope to marry someday. But when you look at every day as simply nothing more than a conduit to get you to that point, it's not surprising that you find yourself having some sort of a breakdown. Because every day I had to face the fact that I wasn't there yet and, honestly, probably still had much farther to go. So contentment went out the window. Relaxation began to disappear and stress took over as I began to think that every moment had to be building toward something else. In those situations, joy begins to ebb away, replaced by discontent, depression and ultimately despair. After all, what good is a day if the thing that is ultimately going to make you happy is still so far off? What good is going to work when, ultimately, that's not your ending point and you don't feel fulfilled? What good is a relationship if it's not "the one"?

Things have changed in the past two weeks. Again, this is no thanks to myself but thanks to a very patient and loving God who has worked change on me from the inside.

I've come to view my days differently. When I wake up in the morning, the hours stretching before me are no longer pointless, existing only to get me to the end of the day. My job is not a place where I'm simply going for a paycheck or to find any ultimate meaning or fulfillment. My relationships are not simply there to keep me company and save me from going to movies by myself.

Rather, every day is more than I deserve. I start the day only with what God has given me--my talents, my tools, my attitude. And everything that happens that day is not pointless but an opportunity to model the Gospel and glorify God. Every relationship is a chance to model the love of Christ and my belief that true joy and peace are only found in glorifying God. Every work opportunity exists for me to work my hardest and best to model the creative excellence that a God-follower should have; after all, we are emulating the most excellent Creator there is. Every second is not about getting to the next minute but about how to glorify God in that moment and enjoy the life He has given us.

As I've done that, I've found my priorities shifting. I spend more time with the television turned off. I try and be with my family and friends more. If there's not enough time to get everything done in one day I relax instead of stress, knowing that the following days has more opportunities. I worry less, knowing that all I am called to do each day is model a life that follows Christ.

Lest anyone think I'm very successful at all this, I'll level with you--probably about 80% of the time I still fall back into my old habits and thought patterns. But I see that number shrinking every day as I wake up and remind myself of the joy found in those moments when I worried not about my ultimate legacy or fulfillment but about glorifying Christ throughout my day.

Kind of makes me want to get the next day started a bit early.

--C