The Wet Dog Diary: Introducing LUNA

LUNA
Luna, our chocolate lab

When I decided to adopt Luna, a five year old chocolate lab 2 days ago, I knew I had to jump in with BOTH feet.

You can’t halfway care for a dog and love it halfway or something bad can take over. Resentment.

The truth is that dogs smell really gross to me. Their fur gets on to everything and they’ve seem ridiculously emotionally needy to me. The constant caring for them can feel like such a never-ending  chore. But the reality is also that they need people. These pack animals get neurotic and socially dysfunctional without a predictable caregiver who serves as pack leader. (Yes, I’ve been learning for the Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan.)

They easily sense apprehension. They need a non frustrated, calm leader–and I admit when she shoves me out of the way to barge out into the rain after school kids I get tense!

Having grace for her problems and retraining her to be a better fit in our family is the new mission of The DeLay Pack.

I’ll keep you posted. Soon.

In the meantime, what good advice do you have for me?

 

The Strange case for Meek Leadership

franciswashesAs new Pope Francis makes bold statements through actions (washing the feet of inmates, taking residence in the papal guest house, etc) the word I hear tossed about concerning his leadership is MEEK.

Too often lumped as a quality of weakness, Meek Leadership has secret powers!

So what is the word “meek” about and how can it be so influential?

My leadership professor, Tim Valentino, wrote some comments I’d like to share with you.

(You can read more of Tim at his blog)

Leadership and Meekness?

The biblical word for this is “meek” (praus). A related word is “gentle” (prautes).

The semantic range of this word cluster includes the following: humble, gentle, considerate, unassuming, courteous, and restrained. In some contexts it means, “the absence of pretension.” By way of contrast, it’s the opposite of harsh, arrogant, or braggadocios.

As used outside the New Testament, this word has in it the idea of “lying low.” It was a word originally used, for example, to describe a low-lying river—one that cut through a valley. A river, of course, is a powerful thing, but a low-lying river is one that doesn’t impose its power on you. You have to go out of your way to go see it because it’s unobtrusive.

It’s important to keep in mind, I think, that “meek” does not mean “weak.” Unfortunately, these two words rhyme in English, but they are not synonymous. Nor does this word mean timid, shy, bashful, cowardly, indecisive, or unwilling to serve. Perhaps the best definition comes from William Barclay, who defined meekness as “power under control.”

Again, as used outside the Bible in the first century, this word referred to:

• Tame animals (cf. an elephant with its foot on a circus lady)
• Soothing medicine (cf. buffered aspirin or anti-anxiety drugs)
• A gentle breeze (cf. not a tornado, but wind that is refreshing to the body)

All of these items can have tremendous, destructive power, but “meekness” brings them under control to serve a good purpose. Significantly, Jesus, who has all authority in heaven and earth, quintessentially displays meekness. He said in Matthew 11:29:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Jesus, of course, was a great leader. He was also meek. Apparently God thinks the two should go together.

Questions to ponder:

§ Do you know anyone who is powerful yet meek?
§ Do you know anyone who is authoritative yet gentle?
§ Could your leadership be described as “meek” in the sense used here?
§ How would our work environments improve if our leaders were meek?

Lost Dog Tootsie

tootsieJumpy, foolish, and run amuck. That was Tootsie. I didn’t know her name, but when a skittish dog weaved up the center of my street towing a 20 foot chain, I called out to her, and tried to help.

She was friendly, but fearful. She panted and started for me, but when she realized I might end her dash toward total independence, she started to scoot away–her long chain clattered behind her. Instead of heightening my urgency, I scaled it back, and made my tone friendlier. “Come here, it’s okay!” I tapped my leg in what is a sort of international signal for dog to come. She perked up her ears, and darted around, still unsure of her next move. She was going to bolt. The long muddy chain was her foil. I edged after her, and she made a break for it. Then, I stepped on the chain, and used it to reel her in. Once arrested from flight, she was friendly and excited. With a hyper spirit only a very inbred dog exhibits, she jumped, and spun, and zipped about. My daughter was delighted.

Now to find the owner. The last thing I wanted was to keep a dog like this for too long. I sighed relief–her dog tag had a phone number. I phoned–the number was disconnected. She began barking, and jumping, popped two of our plastic balls, and knocked over her new water dish for the fourth time. I hoped there would be a big reward for finding her.

About an hour later, three children who had heard familiar barking came to get her. They said her name was Tootsie. Their gate was open, and they didn’t know how she got away.

I got to thinking about Tootsie, and her recklessness. Her ignorance of her freedom, and the danger she didn’t know she was in apart from her caretakers. The wild look in her eye, and the confusion of being on her own–excited, yet quite lost, and ultimately alone. Until I stepped in, her fate was dubious.

I wonder if we think of people with the same kind companion we do for animals. When someone has lost their way, feels alone, or is out of the watchful care they need, do we hurry to help them? Or do we size up everything first? Do we decide if it’s worth it, or if they are worthy of the work we’ll have to put in?

Maybe it’s easier to help an animal because we assume they are quite helpless, but people can do far better helping themselves. But, the truth is, no one can go it alone. Not Tootsie, not me, not you, not anyone. Reaching out is the only way things genuinely improve. And I don’t mean reaching out just any way, but with true graciousness. Real compassion, and the kind of love we hope is shown to us, or those we love.

How do you feel about it?

And have you ever rescued a person or animal?

Go ahead and talk about it in a comment. :)

Thanks for reading.