But puppies produce stuff. And by "stuff," I mean "poop." Oliver produces poop. It seems to me that he produces it in quantities out of proportion to his size or his daily dietary intake.
And so, life at our house now includes obvious and regular offerings of poop...just outside the front door. Which, if not picked up and deposited in a plastic bag and then placed in the garbage bag, can be picked up on the bottom of your shoe and deposited on the front room carpet. Or the kitchen tile. Or the hallway runner. Or all three places...and even more.
Oliver is only the most recent reminder to me that the place I live would be a lot nicer...if it weren't for all the "stuff." All the poop. All the poop that each-day-of-life deposits on my shoes and gets tracked into every room in the house...and stains the carpeting and the drapes and the bed skirt and the clean clothes, fresh out of the washer and dryer.
And it does more than stain the place where I live, it stinks the place up!
It stinks up the place where I live...Bloomington, Indiana, the United States of America, the World. The Whole Stinkin' World!
There's poop all over the place. Put there by individuals, and groups, and communities, and cultures, and countries, and corporations, and politics (this might be the biggest source of our poop problem in this country...maybe), and accidents, and disease, and acts-of-God (although nobody in their right mind really believes God causes that poop!), and heart-break, and soul-crushing tragedies of all types and descriptions. And everyone of us has tracked in our fair share of the stuff over the years...and done our part to foul up this place we live in...this world of ours.
Every time I put together a sermon about do-overs...or second-chances...or doing-it-different the next time...or learning to live with the way life is...every time I have to keep in mind just how much poop the people who will hear that sermon actually have to deal with in their actual lives in the actual worlds they live in.
Poop happens! And it will keep on happening. And we will all (every stinking one of us) keep on tracking it in to the most amazing places: Our places of work. The places where we share our morning coffee. Our houses of worship. Our homes. Our relationships. The eateries and bars where we share lunch or dinner with friends. Baseball Stadiums, Football Stadiums, Basketball Arenas, Soccer Pitches...and any other of the many places where we engage in or watch sporting events.
And even though the picture/meme that follows this sentence is funny, this is not a realistic way to deal with poop. (And BTW, the Buddha never said this!)
Here is a better way to deal with poop...with the stuff of life that is not going to go away...but will continue to dog us for all our days: Grace. Yeah, Grace.
Remember those times when poop got tracked in and you thought you were defeated, and you couldn't carry on...not one more minute...and right then and there something good happened? Yeah, that was Grace.
Remember those times when poop got tracked in and you were bitter and you were convinced that you could never again forgive...and out of the blue something good happened? Yeah, that was Grace.
Remember those times when poop got tracked in and you had sacrificed one too many times, and you were so sure that you could give no more...and somehow something good happened? Yeah, that was Grace.
Remember those times when poop got tracked in and you said you lacked the courage to stick your neck out again (because it would just get chopped off again), and you simply could not muster up the strength to do the right thing...and lo and behold something good happened? Yeah, that was Grace.
Remember that time when from somewhere deep down inside you there came a prayer, if indeed that is what it was...and thankfully something good happened? Yeah, that was Grace.
There is poop in this place we call "home," and this place would be a lot nicer if only there was some way to deal with all that poop...yeah, that would be Grace.
Poop happens. Grace happens. Grace trumps poop.
In fact, Grace trumps everything.
Oliver needs to go out...
