excellence

I learned one final life lesson from last year a few days ago. Well, perhaps there were others after that too.

But still—one lesson I never expected.

You’re never too old to fall in love with a puppy that you can’t take home.

Yeah, I know. I was surprised, too. I suppose I shouldn’t be. I’ve mentioned to you about the second childhood thing. And the getting more sensitive thing.

But, one day last week, the Lovely Lady and I got into my truck with a few extra passengers to visit the mountaintop where our grandchildren live. It takes over an hour to travel to their house, so I figured we’d have time to talk with our passengers on the way.

It turns out that, unlike me, they’re seasoned travelers who are better at planning their travel time than am I, so there were noise-canceling headphones and smartphones, along with a 900-page biography to be read, and instead of talking, my driving time was divided between counting skunk carcasses on the roadside and wondering why it is that all the churches in the little town of Sonora, Arkansas seem to be built right next to each other along the highway.

I might have thought about a few other things along the way. But, I promise you, I wasn’t thinking I’d be sad on the trip home because I had to leave a sweet little girl pup I’d already named Cyclone (in my head, anyway) on top of that mountain.

She wasn’t the only cute pup there. Others were bigger—or more playful—and perhaps, even more lovable. But, this little girl just caught my eye. And, my heart.

I looked at the Lovely Lady. You know, with puppy-dog-eyes. She knows me. Before I opened my mouth, she knew what I was going to say.

“She is beautiful. But, you know what we decided. Still, it’s up to you.”

It’s not like that time when I was a boy and wanted my own dog. Then, the red-headed lady who raised me was kind about it, but closed the door completely on the idea.

“No. It would be your dog, but I’d be the one feeding and watering it. I’d have to bathe the beast and get the annual vaccinations. Sorry. The family dog will have to do.”

This wasn’t like that. I’ve proved myself to this red-haired lady. She knows I can be trusted to take care of the pup.

But, we’ve decided—mutually—that it’s not in our best interest to have pets anymore. It wasn’t a decision we came to lightly.

The little girl stayed on the mountain with her litter-mates. She’ll certainly find a home with a loving family before long. Who could resist those eyes and that tornado-shaped coloration on her forehead?

Yet, all the way home I kept asking, “What if we tried . . .?”

And she didn’t say no to any of my ideas. . . well yeah—to a couple, she did. I’m not always that logical when I want something I shouldn’t have.

I might be happier if she had said no outright. Then I could blame her for my disappointment, instead of just being an adult and responsibly doing what I know is right in this situation.

But, I am going to do that. Be responsible, I mean.

Somehow, I think my choice of a name for the puppy wasn’t just a coincidence, either.

Storms come by themselves in nature. Sometimes, in our personal lives, we stir up the elements that cause the storms to gather strength and assail us.

I’m not saying little Cyclone would do that. I’m saying we make decisions and set boundaries in life for valid reasons and often, overstepping those boundaries brings grief into our lives. Even if we find ways to justify doing away with the limits we originally set.

Good is sometimes the enemy of excellent.

And sometimes, I forget how a team works and decide to do what I believe is good for me—to the team’s detriment.

Words come to my mind, a hippie mantra from the 1960s, that influenced many of my generation and more of those that have followed.

The free spirits back then said, “If it feels good, do it.” As I think, I realize they’re still saying it today.

I won’t.

I’m a believer in another mantra, one I’d like to carry into the new year and the foreseeable future.

Excellence is worth pursuing.

Not as catchy as the hippies’, is it?

The Apostle, my namesake, was even more wordy in his exhortation.

“Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.” (Philippians 4:8, NLT)

Earlier in the missive, he suggested that we think of others as better than ourselves. Before that, in one of his letters to the people at Corinth, he made it clear that we’re not to do good solely for ourselves, but constantly for others around us.

But, it was only a puppy. Which would have been a good thing, wouldn’t it? I would never say opening your heart and home to a puppy was bad.

And yet. . .

Better—and more excellent—things await just ahead. Maybe even over the next mountaintop.

Oh. So you know—I’m going to keep petting the puppies.

I just can’t take them home.

“Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful.” (Ann Landers)

“You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’—but not everything is good for you. You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’—but not everything is beneficial. Don’t be concerned for your own good but for the good of others.” (1 Corinthians 10:23-24, NLT)

I think I first heard the insult from one of my brothers. He didn’t make it up himself.

Maybe you’ve heard it, too.

“Well, I. . .”

“That’s a deep subject—for such a shallow mind.”

It was funny the first twenty times. Eventually, I learned to start my sentences without the mention of the water source.

I thought about it again today when my young friend interrupted my monologue about some things I’ve been pondering recently.

“Those are some big thoughts you’ve been having, Paul.”

In my head, I immediately finished the idea for him.

. . .for such a tiny brain.

He didn’t say the words and probably didn’t even think them, but still—I couldn’t help but wonder. The red headed lady who raised me used to say it differently.

“You’re getting a little too big for your britches, Bub.”

It’s a funny thing, though. I remember her buying me bigger pants when I outgrew the ones I was wearing. Same thing with shoes, and shirts.

She didn’t want me to stay a small person. From her diminutive height of five feet and four inches she looked up to her taller sons, two of us eventually reaching six feet, with pride.

She never wanted anything else but for us to grow. She never wanted anything less than for us to reach further.

Parents are like that, you know.

Somehow, much of society wants nothing more than to pull us back into the teeming mass of the everyday.

Don’t get above your roots!

Remember where you came from!

Time and time again, the crowd pulls us down and reminds us that we need to fit in—to conform.

Ah, but I remember being in crowds with my Dad. When you’re a kid, crowds are a pain. You can’t see anything—can’t get anywhere.

But, with Dad, all I had to do was ask and, within seconds I was sitting on his shoulders, above the crowd. No more looking through legs and around fat torsos. No more stumbling and being shoved.

Parents are like that, you know.

But the day comes when the child is too big to sit on shoulders, too heavy to be carried through the crowd. By then, they’ve learned to stand on their own feet and to see far ahead of the crowd. One would hope anyway.

I encouraged and aided my own son to adulthood and then, stood aside and bragged. Well, not exactly bragged. But, I still remember the first time a co-worker of his praised his abilities and his work ethic.

Ha! The first time? I remember the last time it happened, just a day past.

Parents are like that, you know.

And a voice came from heaven, telling them, “This is my only Son. I am exceedingly pleased with Him.” (Matthew 1:5)

Evidently, there is another Father who wants His children to excel.

He gives us the tools to do just that—lifting us when we can’t see, carrying us when we can’t walk, encouraging us as we gain strength and wisdom.

Parents are like that, you know.

One has to wonder: Why is it we seem to be satisfied, all too often, with the norm?

Why do we stay a part of the crowd, when we have the advantages we’ve been given?

Why are we afraid to grow? Why are we afraid to excel? Why are we afraid to stand tall?

I wonder. Surely I’m not the only one with big ideas (rattling around in a tiny brain).

Perhaps, it’s time we started acting on the big ideas.

It seems likely that we’ve stood on the edge of the dream for too long. I think I hear a voice, almost like that of Aslan the Lion in the Chronicles of Narnia, calling us further up and further in.

Still encouraging. Still calling.

Parents are like that, you know.

He turned swiftly round, crouched lower, lashed himself with his tail and shot away like a golden arrow.
“Come further in! Come further up!” he shouted over his shoulder.
(from The Last Battle ~ C.S. Lewis ~ English theologian/author ~ 1898-1963)

Now look here, gal, you’d better be yourself
And leave that other stuff on the shelf
You’re country, baby
That’s plain to see

Don’t get above your raisin’
Stay down to earth with me
(Don’t Get Above Your Raising ~ Flatt/Scruggs ~ American Songwriters)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

A Puppy Would Be Good

Reaching