I loathe bologna. It looks so gross. It signifies to me everything that is wrong with the world. I am very finicky (to say the least) about meat. I live in constant fear of myself or my family contracting listeria, E. coli, or salmonella. I have a strict 2 day rule on any meat-laden leftovers. I slightly overcook meat almost always to ensure that there is no bacteria(Sorry, Dear). In the way of meat, I only eat chicken and turkey. Even as a child my mom had a horrible time getting me to eat beef or pork. I'm sorry I was so picky, Mom! I am paying for my raising on that one. The only thing worse to me than regular meat is mystery meat. Who even knows what is in bologna? And why is the spelling so non-phonetically correct?! The mere sight of bologna makes my stomach turn over a bit and start screaming for fresh vegetables. I just don't get how it could possibly be a thing.
I'm not a big fan of dogs. I know. Gasp. Alert the press. But before you write me off as cold and incapable of love or unfriend me on facebook please allow me to explain. You see, I have psychological issues with pets. My childhood pet history reads a lot like "Les Mis" - a lot of drama and everyone dies. The soundtrack to my story isn't nearly as awesome though because it is mostly made up of New Kids on the Block, Milli Vanilli, Mariah Carey, and Boys II Men (okay, it is actually awesome). The first pet I remember having was our beloved black cat named "Midnight". She gave us several kittens (whom I found it the yard and thought were rats). My favorite one was a little gray one named "Smoky". These kittens were eaten by the german shepherd dogs next store. Should I just stop there? No, let's go on. Midnight herself later got run over by a car on the highway close to our house. We buried her in the backyard. Introduce next pet - a dog named "Rocky". I may or may not have suggested this name because of a boy I had a crush on at school. The rest of the family probably thought the name was cool because of the movies, but I knew the truth. Anyway, I loved him so much. He was our sidekick. He walked to school everyday with my sister and I in a very "Mary had a Little Lamb"-esque way. Rocky disappeared one Halloween, and we never saw him again. We assume he was stolen. Someone was tricking rather than treating. Then my 10th birthday came along, and apparently I hated myself because I asked for another dog. My request was granted, and we got an adorable black and white puppy named "Oreo". We had just enough time to fall head over heels in love with him before he too got flattened on the highway. True story - my mom followed up dinner that night by offering us all some of the frozen oreo dessert she had made the day before, and we erupted into sobs. My sweet parents wanted to give us the joyful experience of owning pets, but instead they gave us sadness and lessons on the frailty of life. So, you see, pets have only ever caused me pain. Even my beta fish, "Merle", had an untimely death. There is a sore spot in my soul where pets are concerned. I hardened my heart to the furry creatures long ago. I am trying to love them again for the sake of my children, but it's a long process. Where am I going with this? It isn't just a post about things I don't like. I promise. So read on. :)
Last week we buried one of the most amazing women I have ever known, Brian's Grandmother Petty. She was the tiniest bundle of true grit anyone ever saw. She loved everyone and everything. Her faith in Jesus was second to none, and she showed her love for Him in everything she did. There's a story told of her that once a man broke into her house and waved a knife in her face demanding her stuff. According to the story she told him he looked silly waving that knife around and that he was in the Lord's house. Then she offered to make him breakfast. Now I'm not sure this story is 100% accurate. My husband told it to me. Petty men are men of honor, but they aren't above a little embellishment for story-telling sake. Regardless, this was the kind of woman she was. She would give anything she owned and the very last ounce of herself to anyone who needed her. She raised 8 children and had 26 grandchildren and 48 great grandchildren (with more to come). She welcomed anyone who would come into her home. She had true joy because her fulfillment didn't come from any earthly source. It came from Jesus. She was full of wisdom and truth - an absolute jewel of a woman.
Last Friday night after we buried her close to her home we all gathered in her house one last time to eat together and visit. Grandmother would have so enjoyed looking around her home that night to see all of the faces she loved so much. How I wish I would have spent more time in her home while she was still in it. So many people had been so kind to bring us food of all kinds over the 2 days of visitation and funeral services. So we pulled out all the leftovers and had a vast array of food before us. As I made my way through the line, there I saw it - bologna sliced into quarters. Now, I'm not sure if someone brought this to the grieving family or if we pulled it out of Grandmother's fridge because it needed to be eaten(I assume the latter). But I watched as Brian's family walked by and ate it as if this was a totally normal thing to do, because let's be honest - it is probably a totally normal thing to do. And I stood there in this room full of deer-hunting bologna eaters (because it was standing room only in that precious house) and thought about how these people I was surrounded by had to be some of the finest people on the planet earth.
Then there are the dogs. It was a running joke at Grandmother's house that dogs abound there. I mean, who could blame them? They could probably sense her good character and would flock to her door. There were even jokes at the funeral as her granddaughters beautifully eulogized her about all the dogs around her home. Now, like I said, lots of dogs + me = uncomfortable. And yet this place where the dogs loved to go was a place of peace - a place of rightness in a world gone wrong.
What is my point? Well, I'm not sure exactly, but it's something like this. What blessings in life am I missing out on because I won't go near the unappealing things? What relationships have I missed out on because the other person didn't look like me? What ministries have I avoided because it's just too uncomfortable to go into "that kind of place". How many times have I judged others because of our differences instead of embracing them because of our likeness? If I avoid all the bologna and the dogs of the world am I only avoiding the "bad" or am I sorely missing out on the very, very good things God has to offer me? In the most unlikely of places, and in the most unlikely ways we find the most precious blessings of all. The greatest gift we will ever receive was laid in a manger in a stable filled with animal stench. What if we didn't go in because we didn't like the smell? What if we just kept walking past His stable and waited for something more appealing? What if we gave up the greatest moments of our lives because we didn't want to be "uncomfortable" for even a second? What if behind the small things that turn you off there is a woman who can teach you more about Jesus' love than anyone you know? What are you avoiding today? Go into the stable. Get dirty. Step in the manure. Embrace the Savior. He just might be where you least expect Him.
