A German Shepherd Gal without a trusty GSD

Our first German Shepherd Dog, Max came into our lives as a puppy almost 20 years ago. Technically, he was our second German Shepherd Dog. He came at five months old and had some "training on him", part of the puppy package from the breeder/trainers at Assertive K-9 Training. He could do a fabulous long down. (30 minutes - which was easy, because, he'd fall asleep 10 minutes into the down and he'd stay.) "Who's a good boy?"
Max. Max was a good boy. The long story is that we'd had a stray Shep, Ruby for about a week. A friend of a friend has purchased her from a homeless man who had her out all night in the cold with him and this friend of a friend was focused on a better life for doggies. (My kinda gal.) She took Ruby home to live with her and her kiddos. Ruby slept on her daughter's bed. So, when she came to us, she was accustomed to people being like dogs, bad choice. She was on the bed and nipped my daughter in puppy play, but Sarah is a human and at the time, she was a tender and loud human child who was scared to pieces by a big old German Shepherd snout biting her. But she also already LOVED Ruby (the child is part dog). Then, the nip happened a second time in the car, after which a friend of ours, said something like,  "My best friend's mom is a German Shepherd trainer and breeder and she says a Shepherd NEVER belongs on the bed as a puppy because they assume it gives them status as a human." We were intrigued by the psychology and drove the miles out to the German Shepherd training grounds and met with Diana Foster - a highly regarded trainer/breeder. We shared our story and she talked about the Shepherd's intelligence and willingness to challenge for position. We learned about the fabulous long-down where you put the dog on a down-stay and keep them there by returning them to set position every time they get up until you release them. She talked about her approach and the dogs she had available at that time. We were in love quickly with the idea of a well-trained German Shepherd Dog. Her litters sold out quickly and about a year after our initial meeting with her, she called to say she had a few pups available,  two of whom were German imports from a Schutzenhund line. Trained to do what Shutzenhunds do -- Shutzen training. The significance is that dogs with this temperment are bright and quite maleable. So a big dog, scary looking to some people, when well-trained, will do what you ask of them. We were excited and hopped in the car to go meet these doggies. We were introduced to a pack of furballs (from an unavailable litter) and Max and Carla, a brother and sister from Germany - Schutznehund types. I fell in love with short haired Carla and everyone else loved long-haired Max. He sensed my internal struggle and immediately wrapped himself around my feet and stared at me promising undying affection and fun. I was sunk. Both kids, my husband and this adorable pup were on the side I needed to move to. And I did, quickly.

After a couple of weeks of extended training, we brought Max home and he was exactly what we dreamed of, a gorgeous caramel Shepherd with a deep black saddle.
His "coated" status made him very pretty and many people wanted to tell us he wasn't a GSD, but some other breed because of the coat. We laughed to ourselves because, we held the paper on the guy. And those German's don't mess around when it comes to Bloodlines and their Hunds. 

Max was a perfect dog. He practiced his downs, loved to go for walks and healed like it was proof of his excellent breeding. He acted as if staying at my left knee were a badge of honor. It made walks and socializing a treat. He was into it. Max belonged to everyone in the house. It was clear I was his mama, but he was pretty equal in sharing his love. Both kiddos knew the ropes of walks and downs and he gave them his full attention. He also loved going to their school to be "shown off" on sharing days. We never gave a second thought to him being with other kids. He was trained. He was easy.

Max made sure he always knew where everyone was. If I went to the neighbors he watched me leave and then waited by the window for my return. He often slept with me on the bed for a nap or when I went to bed earlier than everyone else - keeping me company as I fell asleep. He was a great pal. As he aged he became more protective of the house and let the mail people know we didn't need whatever they were offering. My husband loves to tell the story of the Fed Ex guy who jumped several feet backward OFF the porch when he answered the door with Max at his side. He was a protector for sure.

Max started slowing down at about about 10 and at that point our youngest had seen a litter of darling terrier mix puppies and fell in love. She talked up the fact that her pal Seth's dogs had three puppies and were looking for good homes for them. I let her know we'd could go look but we weren't getting a puppy. (Who did I think I was convincing?) We went to her friend Seth's house and met Jack and Jessie and their three puppies, two black pups with white markings and Lucy a white pup full of sweetness and a lot of sass. We fell completely in love. Lucy was the girl for us. After convincing my husband that his little girl could handle care for a puppy, we brought Lucy home. In a box. We let Maxy open the box in the backyard and from the first minute he became the mentor she needed. He loved her, and she him.  She slept her first night tucked into the circle of his belly. I don't think either of them move that night. She was so happy to have her new family - and a grandpa dog to boot! She started the next day teasing him and playing puppy games with him. - and he rose to the occasion. In the yard, she'd walk up hehind him and grab his plume of a tail, pull and run. He'd "fake" chase her and toss a bark in her direction. They snarled and played and nipped and rolled. They were a perfect pair. She got a playmate and he got a very happy year of play and mentorship.  One day, Lucy decided to go after the mailman, at the front window the same way Max did. He wasn't allowing this in her and stepped on her head to let her know she had to stop. She stopped. His whole life with us, he had his crate which went from a safe place for us to place him when we had to go out, to becoming his safe place. He retired to the crate when the house was too congested or noisy and he wanted some quiet space. On occasion, Lucy would join him. And, he welcomed her.  

We lost Max to an unfortunate tumor which made him anemic and also a bad candidate for surgery. It was a very sad day for everyone in our home. We all wandered through the house feeling the hole he left. Shortly after declaring we "wouldn't get another dog for a long time," three weeks to be exact, my husband walked into the living room on a cold Saturday morning, ready to go and saying, "come on! there's a gorgeous male Shepherd at Westside German Shepherd Rescue and we're going to go look!" We did and we met a gorgeous boy named Ace. He was strong and joyous - A little bit more dog than I was expecting. We had a lot of discussions about how we'd bring him home and decided to take him to Diana and her team for some training (boarding) before bringing him home to live with us. And that we did. Ace did really well with the training and he and I continued to drive out to Corona on Saturday mornings for group work which he loved. The people at Assertive saw the bond he and I forged and commented when he became the fastest dog to "find" his person during "hide and seek" using dog-blinds. When I put him in the back of my SUV he jumped in, turned around and kissed my face like it had been slathered by a T-Bone. I was convinced he was thanking me for going through the extra training with him. He loved it. I loved it. And, I loved him. As much as I adore Max, Ace became my best pal. Once, early on after he joined us, and would come and go through the back door on leash (as he learned the ins-and-outs of living with us) he "got away" from my husband when he saw me lying on the couch. He made a headlong dive onto me and stayed there until he was returned to his crate. It was an unexpected communication that he'd found his person. And I was that for 10 good years with him. I couldn't leave the house without hearing how tragic my departure was. And I couldn't return without a full GSD reunion party. Around 4 years old, Ace had his first epileptic seizure which is something you don't really want to ever have to see. We worked with our vet, consulted with neurologists and the best vet in Los Angeles and for 6 years, didn't ever really get much more than a month stretch between seizures. Last January he had a seizure that forever changed our situation. We lost him. It was awful and the hole in our home this time is twice as big. (The hole in my spirit is huge without him.) We miss him, but we have a wedding coming up and it isn't time for a new puppy. It will be soon enough. Just not yet. And, in the meantime, our darling Lucy had TPLO surgery for a ruptured CCL (doggy ACL) and a torn meniscus. She's in the long quiet recovery. Definitely the wrong time for a new dog. Healing requires rest and puppies don't rest for long. We're taking good care of Lucy who thinks she's a GSD. (But looks more like a Jack Russell with Greyhound legs.) There's a GSD out there waiting for me. I can feel it. I just hope he's willing to wait as long as we need to. In some ways, I feel like I'm walking around with a part of me missing. I don't know when that part of me became a dog, but it seems that happened. And it may have happened years ago when my dad brought home a Skye Terrier puppy eight weeks after I was born. We were best friends and I was his charge. Fully protected at all times. Kinda like life with Ace. It's a good feeling to share life with a great dog and I've had the opportunity more than a couple of times. Dad used to say "You seem to get one truly great dog in your lifetime." Dad agreed I exceeded my quota. I'm more than happy for this and will tempt the trope with the next great dog I have the pleasure of adding to our family. In the meantime, I remain a GSD kinda gal without her trusty GSD.

The Sourdough Rabbit Hole

I'd love to take credit for the sourdough rabbit hole language but you'll have to see @Brad_Leone's Instagram feed for that fun. Any of us who've done the dive into sourdough during the Covid-19 Stay Home and cook-and-buy-up-all-the-flour-and-yeast-you-can-find frenzy will tell you making Sourdough is a test of patience, and tenacity, but oh, it is rewarding!

Sourdough does take procuring starter (I got mine from our local bakery Gusto Bread and right afterward, they were named one of Food and Wine's Top 100 Bakeries - coincidence?), days of  feeding and tending your starter, deciding what to do with the pour-off - I vote scallion pancakes - then, there's some learning about how to work with a dampish dough, how to space the work across your day, extending it to two or more if you like. There is waiting. And, then trusting your loaf to a 475 degree oven and holding out for two whole hours while the bread cools and cures when finished baking. So far, each time has been fun and fruitful. (There may have been one time we didn't quite get to the oven stage.)

So what's the rewards beyond sourdough toast? First, I finally learned why my Dutch Oven is called a Dutch Oven (mine's French for heaven's sake.) You bake the bread in the Dutch Oven inside the oven - the key to trapping steam for moisture and a good crust.

I thought the big fun was cutting into the first loaf, finding a good firm crust, big holes and just the right amount of moisture. It's was exciting. (It was also fun to hear my son tell me how much he loved the flavor.)

The really big fun is in learning, researching, exploring, trying and looking for improvement. My big mistake so far was adding the flour for an autolyse (sourdough words), answering the phone and coming back and adding water just as the scale turned off. I ended up with an inaccurate measure of water, more than I was shooting for, and the dough literally slid off the board during the pre-shape, like a Dali painting. I didn't try to save it, I chucked it and wrote it off to focus.

I found these videos and websites great fun for exploring:
Pro Home Cooks - 15 Mistakes Most Beginner Sourdough Bakers Make - It's really 15 steps to really good (and pretty simple) sourdough. I use his recipe with a couple of twists. (I can't get my hands on Einkorn and, I only use organic unbleached because organic seems to help the tang. I also hold back 100 grams of water adding half of it when I add starter and the other 50 grams when adding salt.)
Sarah Owens on Food52 - on starter
Sarah Owens on Food52 - on the best sourdough Table Loaf. Sarah is pretty wonderful and makes it all feel easy and breezy. I've followed her method with good results, and her loaves are really beautiful - bread goals.
Then there's The Perfect Loaf - I think Maurizio has all the information you'd ever need on bread and sourdough specifically. There's really good technical information here - the benefits of following temperature, etc., a truly tremendous resource.
Back to Brad Leone, you might love watching Brad and Claire in the Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and learning about slap and fold. Tried it. Kinda fun!

You'll find some respectable seriousness at the San Francisco Baking Institute demonstrator. When I was on my second set of loaves, he helped me figure out the pre-shape move. (I love the idea of a giant tub of dough. But I'll need some serious refrigeration and a much bigger oven for that.) For now it's two or three loaves at a time. Sharing with friends and hoping for good feedback. Last week I traded a loaf for some lemon bread, banana muffins and beets. Tomorrow I have plans to trade a loaf for some fresh from the coop eggs. Where does this lead? Who knows. But I got my Bread Lame in the mail last night, so I'm invested.

My baking pal Leah and I have been socially distancing in our baking with about 50 miles between us. We text and share photos as we go. Last week we both had a baking day where our results were a less tangy loaf. I went to work to find out how to adjust the tang upward and found there's something to be said for lower hydration levian, whole grain flour, and longer fermentation all help. But as we chatted about what was different, we both figured out; we'd found the holy grail in these hard-to-find flour days - bread flour. We each used it. It was the constant that had, indeed, affected flavor. I'm not really ready to give up on it yet. (I mean, I bought about eight pounds!) So this week, I'll use it, but, I'll also be sure to use lower hydration starter, mix in whole grain flours, and go for long fermentation. (I'm learning...)

Last night my college girlie and I made baguettes. I am clearly down the Rabbit Hole and happy to be there. Those baguettes are super tart and delicious. I'm learning about shaping them - they need a long cool rest so I definitely need to clear out a whole shelf in the refrigerator for all this fermentation, proofing and testing. But then, what will I we do with all the pickling supplies?

Brother give us a word::Revelation

Revelation
We’re no longer talking only about a God of the Law, whose ways were unknowable, whose face was unseeable, whose name was unpronounceable, whose heart and hands were untouchable, but about Jesus who entered the conditions of this world as an innocent and needy child, just as we have, to reveal the real presence of God’s love.

-Br. Curtis Almquist

It's interesting, I notice lots of people making "knowing Jesus" the priority for this year. The focus. The word. He's the One who makes the universe knowable. Through Him, all was made. 

It think it's good work. Love the Father by knowing the Son.

Give us a word::Mission

Mission
For those of us who might have room for one more New Year’s resolution, it might be this: to be open to new epiphanies, to be open to seeing others in new ways, to seeing Jesus in new ways, to seeing ourselves in fresh and perhaps even surprising new ways.

-Br. Mark Brown
SSJE

Oh the fun of connecting to these Anglican Brothers and their view of Christ. For me it augments the beauty of the heart shaped, bug eaten rose petal, lying on the sandy grout between the bricks in winter. Grace. Joy. Gifts. This mission correlates to My One Word for the year: Freedom. More on that later. But how about that freedom to find new epiphanies? We get to choose the freedom to see friends with fresh eyes and an open heart. 

I'm all for the Mission.

Happy New Year!

May this be, for you, for all of us, a year of joy and progress, of consideration and choice, of love and freedom.

The Advent Word process brought the brothers of SSJE into my awareness. This morning, Brother Almquist shared this:

Jesus
Some days I think our best prayer, our best plea, our best praise is simply to use the name that God has finally shared with us: Jesus, which literally means, “Yahweh saves.” You have Jesus’ name, Jesus who is intent on saving you from whatever it is that just kills you.

-Br. Curtis Almquist

I'll ponder this a while. It's certainly a good way to start a new year, in Jesus name.

AdventWord::Prune

Prune
We prune to let go of growth, letting die what is alive but not growing in the best direction. We prune to let go of death, letting go what is dead but still taking up space. Pruning is a form of dying in order for the tree to more fully live and bear more fruit.

-Br. Luke Ditewig

I'm a big believer in pruning. God has taught me so very much about my life while at the tasks of the garden. I see the hard cut back of January as the first step toward the blooms of spring. 

The first time I cut roses back I did it by the book. I did the pruning. Gingerly. And then my beautiful rose-tender-of-a-neighbor, Bob, came over and told me to go harder. Angling my pruning sheers properly and removing all but about 14" of the plant, I cut, believing in his urging, kinda. A few months later, the roses were gorgeous and profuse.

Pruning then, applies well in my life. Cut back, even what's alive but not growing in the best direction. All of it becomes fodder for the sheers. Unnecessary complexities, clusters of "do," the things I take on, the stuff I collect, that thing that is dead and taking up space. Not as simple and pure as the garden work, certainly. 

Christ speaks these words in John 15:  “1 I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more. 3 You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you. 4 Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me.

5 “Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Anyone who does not remain in me is thrown away like a useless branch and withers. Such branches are gathered into a pile to be burned. 7 But if you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask for anything you want, and it will be granted! 8 When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples. This brings great glory to my Father.

9 “I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love. 10 When you obey my commandments, you remain in my love, just as I obey my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. 11 I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow! 12 This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you." 

Reflecting and consuming these concepts, I have to place it all on the Gardener's altar. Allow His wisdom and love to show me where to make the cut and which angle to use so that new growth is not halted, but prepared in the right season. The waiting is not without anxiousness, but filled with joyful expectation.

AdventWord::Open

Open

When we open our hearts enough to truly love, our enemies can open up the possibility for our healing. It’s not just about treating our enemies a certain way; it’s about the fruits of relating to each other, to everyone, in the fullness of Christ’s love. When we practice loving fully, our great reward is being free from holding onto feelings like anger and hatred.

-Br. Nicholas Bartoli

And when we open, we can be beautiful. We afford others the opportunity to grow and blossom too.

AdventWord::Embrace

This beautiful woman met me standing outside the church at the University of San Francisco. I had coffee. I was banished. It was cold.
She took the opportunity to enter my standing cafe and my life -- beautifully interrupting with her love and joy. It was an I-Thou moment, reminding me of His presence. Filled with grace.

Embrace

We are a manifestation of Christ in the world. Our mission is not to bring Christ to people, but to help people come to know and embrace Christ already present.

-Br. Mark Brown

AdventWord::Trust

She met him when she was a tiny eight week old and from the first day, curled up in his belly or tail for sleep. He wondered about her. Maybe even worried. But in the not so long run, they found love and trust. Some clear, wordless agreement founded that no matter what, she belonged to him -- he would protect, and he belonged to her -- she would provide fun and love.


Trust

God’s love, like any love, involves real trust. And in relationships, trust requires mutuality. Sometimes it may require a part of myself that I don’t necessarily want others to see. This same vulnerability, intimacy, and mutuality should characterize our love for and trust in God.

– Br. Robert L’Esperance

AdventWord::Glow

That glow, the one of littles expectant with story, the fiance at the asking, the first notice joy, is from an inner fullness in what we have. A deep kind of gratitude. A deep beauty. Contagious. It spreads the light to us, the witnesses. Knowing who we are and to whom we belong, we can glow in the exchange of that knowing love. May you glow.


Glow
As children of the light we have the opportunity to either squander God’s riches or to capitalize on them by being ministers of God’s light, life, and love for all people.

-Br. Jim Woodrum

AdventWord::Befriend

Befriended.

I've learned something with these earnest friends. Love requires presence and the ability to see the (inherent) value of the other. 

Befriending and living in friendship, or relationship, can be so much more simple if we keep it thus. We carry our needs and wants, expectations and demands into relationship. I'm working to enter each encounter with gratitude for who the other is in my life before anything else. It requires being awake to the moment. (A worthwhile task.) And in that, I have a change to encounter the beauty of God's creation within you.

He comes for petting and sometimes, my hands/our hands and minds are too full. Other times, the boy lays on the floor. Available. An undemanding and forgiving friendship ensues.

AdventWord::Promise

Promise
God gives us the responsibility of doing something ourselves about those faithless fears and worldly anxieties that are holding us back. We don’t have to do this alone. We have God’s promise of holding our hand and of helping us.

-Br. David Allen

Parenting? Dog husbandry? Air travel? All hold the promise of the unknown. The adventure. The anxiety. But just knowing the Ruler of the Universe, the High King has my back makes me giddy right there with the anxiousness. So, let's also grab the hand of the one next to us and remind with gentle love: we don't have to do this alone.

Photo credit to my Dear Husband who is off on an adventure himself.

AdventWord::Hope

Hope

Converted anxiety is hope. Anxiety is dreadful expectation; hope is expectant desire. They are like cousins to each other. Pray for the conversion of your fretful anxiety into promising hope. If you are anxious just now, you are almost already hopeful.

– Br. Curtis Almquist

What could be added? We plant, anxious to see fruit (or in this case, flowers), fret for the bud to bloom and then, well, we breathe. It really was always going to be fine. I choose converted anxiety.

AdventWord::Commit

Commit

In Advent, reflect on a commitment you are considering accepting, or a commitment that needs renewing. In building the house of your life on the rock of God’s committed love, you may discover that you are called to commit; that you cannot claim the Life that God desires for you without it. -Br. Keith Nelson

We wrote words on the back sides of rocks at Mother Daughter camp about six years ago. We promised to nurture or honor the other's dream. She wanted to be more serious about singing. She has a lesson again tomorrow.

The commitment of parental love is deep/steep. God's faithfulness and constance allows me to follow in His wake, doing my best to remember that her dreams were planted by Him. My joy is in my commitment to help her see them to fruit.

Oh, and I still have my rock.

AdventWord::Touch

Touch

As followers of Jesus, our responsibility is to listen for those calling out to us, and to respond in love by reaching out and touching the untouchable, reminding them by word and deed of their sacred identity.

– Br. Nicholas Bartoli

I'm touched, constantly by depth of this woman's faith and her love.

She's the first person who held me, who taught me about touch and comfort -- my mom. She is and has been gracious that way, with her touch, her hands, full of gentleness and care. She sent some amazing energy through her fingers when she'd rub my feet or back as a little. To calm or quiet my busy self. And to this day, if she's at my house and the situation affords the moment, I'll put my head in her lap and she'll rub my head as she has for oh, these many years. Instant peace.

She taught me that a touch can say far more than a word. That a gentle brush of her hand across my arm which sometimes came with words of assurance, brings comfort.

She loves me. She wants me to be the hands and feet of the Savior. She provided the example.

AdventWord::Renew

Renew::Christ is all in all. He is here symbolically in a stone altar He is here sacramentally in bread and wine. He is here spiritually in hearts lifted up and returned to us renewed, transformed, consecrated. – Br. Mark Brown

I marvel at my friend Nancy Santullo. She's there on the left in the Rain Forest, where she's giving a significant portion of her live to serve, to renew, to love the people there and to help bring fresh water to their lives. There's so much more. Her short biography states brilliantly: "The essence of her activism is not only a functioning clean water source, or creating better hygiene and health — it is the building of a community that values, maintains and benefits together from its existence in their village."

Nancy has made her life to be about renewal. Through her presence, her love and her diligence. Hands and feet, you know?

You can read more about Nancy Santullo and Rain Forest Flow here. And, it is giving Tuesday!

AdventWord::Love

On the big board across from my desk.

It's the best reminder of the Savior's words in John:

John 13:34-35 The Message
34-35 “Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.”

Surprised but not entirely surprised.

I notice things. It's my nature to try to see, and writing, drawing and playing are all disciplines requiring attention, listening, noticing. Lately I've been noticing what I think I've known for a long time about my husband. (I've known for a long, long time. We'll celebrate a quarter century of marriage this month, and I've known him even longer. Years longer.) Every now and again, but a lot lately, I'm surprised as I notice his well considered and thoughtful ways.

Yesterday I found our voting guide, with a pen on the tub ledge. He's reading the whole thing -- the pros and cons provided for every proposition. I know he thinks before he moves. I know he reads. I know it all matters to him. But seeing the dedication to the process reminded me of his deep desire to give to the democracy as it is.

The other night when we were walking up the stairs and out of the theatre, I walked ahead a little, climbing the shallow steps out of the Ahmanson and I lost him. He wasn't right behind me. Then I heard these words coming over my shoulder, "Well, take my arm, I have no where to be. We'll climb together." He was helping the woman with the cane who was struggling. Of course he was. And this night, he touched my heart with that love he so easily offered to a gal having a tough time going up.

I find him often with one of the dogs. Either on the floor or on the bed. Belly rubbing, talking softly, loving, just sharing time and giving and taking a moment of community. Both pups know he's the pop and love that closeness to him.

I think I forget that I really am in the presence of one of the most deeply caring people on earth. I love his heart. I benefit all the time from his compassionate and giving ways. I need to think about this. And, about how I can join him rather than getting ahead of him. I have things to learn here. I'm enthused to get going.

But not entirely surprised.

Surprised but not entirely surprised.

I notice things. It's my nature to try to see and writing, drawing and playing are all disciplines requiring attention, listening, noticing. Lately I've been noticing, rather frequently, what I think I've known for a long time about my husband -- who I've known my husband for a long, long time. We'll celebrate a quarter century of marriage this month, and I've known him even longer. Years longer. And every now and again, but a lot lately, I'm surprised as I notice his well considered and thoughtful ways.

Yesterday I found our voting guide, with a pen on the tub ledge. He's reading the whole thing -- the pros and cons provided for every proposition. I know he thinks before he moves. I know he reads. I know it all matters to him. But seeing the dedication to the process reminded me of his deep desire to give to the democracy as it is.

The other night when we were walking up the stairs and out of the theatre, I walked ahead a little, climbing the shallow steps out of the Ahmanson and I lost him. He wasn't right behind me. Then I heard these words coming over my shoulder, "Well, take my arm, I have no where to be. We'll climb together." He was helping the woman with the cane who was struggling. Of course he was. And this night, he touched my heart with that love he so easily offered to a gal having a tough time going up.

I find him often with one of the dogs. Either on the floor or on the bed. Belly rubbing, talking softly, loving, just sharing time and giving and taking a moment of community. Both pups know he's the pop and love that closeness to him.

I think I forget that I really am in the presence of one of the most deeply caring people on earth. I love his heart. I benefit all the time from his compassionate and giving ways. I need to think about this. And, about how I can join him rather than getting ahead of him. I have things to learn here. I'm enthused to get going.

But not entirely surprised.

It is well with my soul.

I'm adjusting, slowly, to my new life as a mom in California with part of my heart walking around in Texas. My son is studying film there. He's my firstborn and a freshman. Off, as he should be, pursuing higher education. It's a very good thing. But it isn't a very simple thing.

There was the work of graduation and packing and moving. Certainly good work and very well done. The real work, though, is in the adjusting gracefully. It's also good work. But doing it well requires some significant amount of vigilance and a whole lot of living very aware of the present. I can be good at that, but that too, is work.

It hasn't been a full week since we said goodbye outside his dorm. The adjusting to the new reality is just beginning. The dogs are still waiting near the front door for him to walk through. I reach for his favorite foods at Trader Joe's. I listen for his car late at night. Not so much melancholy behavior, just habit. We've lived in our old house since he was two. He and his sister are as much a part of this house to us as the walls and windows. Their words, their sounds, their comings and goings are part of the life of us. And it does take some getting used to losing a part of the rhythm section.

Yesterday my daughter found a new breakfast restaurant to try. We love an occasional Saturday breakfast out. We typically go to the same place and order the same things and talk about the same stuff. But, we're looking for new ways of being. It's clumsy. We'll get there.

I was hit with a wave of sadness yesterday because I truly miss this kid I adore. (No one is playing Ben Folds piano riffs in his absence either.) I was talking with someone on the phone when it hit. And, as friends can tend to do, she wanted me not to be sad so she hit me with this thought: "You have to get used to the idea he may never come home. You just have to be ok with that."

I tend not to agree.

After the coldness of the bucket of ice water warmed, I thought, "What I have to do is know all that I know:" He's smart. He's resourceful. He's pursuing what he loves. God opened doors for him to attend a college where only about 8% of the student body is from the 49 states that aren't Texas. He'll be home at Thanksgiving. I'll see him soon. My Dear Husband is fully in this with me. We can connect via text just about anytime. He's launched, (if you like the ship metaphor). He's growing. We can Facetime. He'll be back. He loves his home. He's only 1380.80 miles away. There are airplanes.

That's probably enough for now.

And for now, I'm just planning to allow the adjusting to come as it does. Slowly and gracefully with a few bumps and waves that feel the opposite of slow and graceful. It's time for me to grow. Time for me to settle. And time for me to enjoy time with the beautiful girl we get to know anew, in a one-on-one way now. Time he had before she was born.

Tomorrow I can adjust to the lower grocery bills.

It is all well with my soul.