Endure AND Enjoy: Christmas Letter 2017

Dear Family & Friends,                                                                                          December 2017

Well, 2017 is winding down, and I struggle a bit to write this letter this year. Why? Because I have nothing profound to share, to announce, or bemoan. 2017 has been a hard year and a good year. The Lord has shown up in so many highs and lows and plateaus with one consistent message, “Endure AND Enjoy!”

This year held travels to Death Valley, Mexico, the Grand Canyon, Ormond Beach, and several camping weekends as our family was blessed with the purchase of a camping trailer. One of our biggest blessings this year has been camping with our California people. The friendships that have deepened and grown here in this past year have been a true gift for which we are deeply grateful.

Weston turned eight in August. The change I’ve seen in him physically in a year makes my Mama heart cry. So many teeth lost and inches grown! He’s officially in love with soccer, and we’ve enjoyed watching his love of football increase. He’s bright and witty and all-boy. He still likes to hold my hand in public and snuggle on the couch for some TV watching, so for these small things, I’m deeply grateful. Both kids completed their first full year of piano lessons, and I continue to be blown away by how much they’ve improved and grown in a year’s time.

Savannah turned ten in October, and to say she’s blooming into a beautiful young girl is an understatement. She’s continued in her gymnastics this year, but also played soccer and water polo. She constantly amazes me with her natural abilities and the ease and flexibility with which she tackles life. As always, she loves every moment of everything, spreading joy and fun and light to anyone she manages to corral. I think I’m most proud of how she consistently reads her devotions in the morning. Both children continue to grow in their love and knowledge of Jesus, and it’s really of their own choosing which is both encouraging and challenging since consistency in my own time with the Lord is still an area I seem to constantly be seeking improvement!

Joey celebrated 40 this year and continues to love his job as a financial consultant for Chick-fil-A. I’m grateful for a husband whose integrity, perseverance, and commitment to his job translates equally to how he leads our home—constantly looking to improve, open to feedback, and never backing down from a hard conversation. I’ve watched the Lord use these skills along with many others as Joey felt led to join the school board of the new classical school God started in September of this year for our kids and 38 others. Choosing to invest in the founding of The Geneva School has been a true walk of faith and continues to be, but Joey has been a rock for me and our children in the process, and his willingness to serve and sacrifice time and energy to do what God has called us to do is admirable.

As for me, this year has been a test of endurance in so many areas of life. I trained for and completed three sprint triathlons, was blessed to lead a ministry team of high schoolers on a mission trip to Mexico, and I continue to be challenged and blessed through service in both the high school and women’s ministries at our church. When God opened our school in September, I also felt led to serve two days a week as a classroom aide, so to say the speed of life and the fullness of my days has increased would be an understatement.

But amid the busyness, I have also been deeply in tune with how the Lord is working in these areas of my life, calling me, preparing me to dig in, root deep, and endure. I’ve learned that endurance doesn’t necessarily produce growth or forward progression of any kind, but it does build strength of character because endurance is the ability and determination to stay, to stick-with-it, to be present and steadfast. Endurance holds you steady; it’s the quality that requires you stay the course. We live in a culture and a world where so many are constantly looking for the next challenge, the next high, the next accomplishment, the next opportunity, the next goal to attain, the next thing to check off their bucket list because there is a natural rush in attaining these good things. Aiming toward these things gives a sense of meaning and purpose, so when I found myself in a season where there was no five-year-plan or dream-big goal, I floundered for a bit.

Until I started recognizing the lesson in the floundering was that when I focused on being present today, in this moment, with this person, or this child, I wasn’t actually floundering anymore, I was living the biggest, most audacious dream of them all—to love others as Jesus loves me. To live this way doesn’t require a five-year plan, but it does require endurance to keep the faith and walk the path God has placed you on; it requires a commitment to staying with Jesus and in His Word and choosing to be in His presence no matter how hard or nonchalant or fulfilling a day may turn out to be. To endure is to stay.

Which doesn’t sound very fun or impressive, but about mid-year God pointed out that it’s not just about enduring, it’s also about enjoying. Enjoying the blessings of friendships and belly laughs and cooking club antics. Enjoying the gift of small hands holding mine and saying ‘yes’ to throwing the football and playing a board game and waking up together in our camper on a cool California morning. Enjoying the sunshine, crashing waves, and the blessing of good health. Enjoying even the tears shared with friends and the comfort only God can wrap you with in hard times. Enjoying long soccer practices, never-ending laundry, super-chill date nights, and spontaneous lunches with friends.

Be present as you endure, but be present to enjoy—this has been 2017.

Does this letter find you in a season of wandering, of annoying difficulties, or a string of everyday, run-of-the-mill moments? I challenge you to sit in these, to stay, to dig deep and endure all the while choosing to find the simple beauty and flashes of enjoyment that are there. We just need to learn to slow down long enough to actually acknowledge and enjoy the minutes of time, instead of spending all our energy striving to plan for the hours ahead.

This life is a marathon, my friends. We must learn to enjoy a steady pace because most of us aren’t built to sprint the entire way! Endurance isn’t a glamorous part of the journey, but it builds an unshakeable strength. Learning to enjoy, treasure, and appreciate the small things along the way is how you’re able to endure the act of enduranceJ

Colossians 1:10-14 “[T]hat you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please Him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to His glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of His holy people in the kingdom of light. For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

And Amen to that! Because therein lies the greatest Christmas Gift of all in the beginning of our redemption and rescue by the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ! May 2018 be a year filled with possibilities and joy for you and yours. May endurance hold you steady and enjoyment sprinkle the seconds of your days.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from our home to yours!

Joey,  Jennifer,  Savannah & Weston Durham

Breaking the Bad

I've been married for just a little over sixteen years now, and the longer I am married, the longer Joey and I have chosen to stick it out through the hard, the ugly, and the dirty of each other, the more in love with him I fall.

I have a theory that in every relationship there is one person that is better at it than the other because I think God puts us together that way.  Because every relationship goes through what Joey and I like to refer to as the downward, spiraling cycle. If you've been in any kind of relationship for any amount of time, you probably know what I'm referring to--those times when you're hurting and they're hurting, or you're both frustrated, disappointed, angry at life for whatever reasons, could be simple reasons like you both just had a long, hard frustrating day.

It's in these negative, downward spiraling cycles that we often lash out at the people closest to us. We look to them for strength or comfort or help, and since they're in the same place as you, they have nothing to offer either.  It's in this spin cycle that marriages, I believe, begin to crack, separate, and eventually break and disintegrate when the dust settles. Because these cycles start small, but can spin for days, weeks, months, years, growing in size and intensity, until someone finds a way to be the better person, the bigger person, the more humble, Christ-like person and do something to break the bad cycle.

My husband always finds a way to do this.  He can be just as tired, just as disappointed, just as irritated as me because of our life circumstances. So we start to jab and barb at each other.  Small looks, silly comments, silent treatments, ignoring actions and holding our tongues, when all the while the pressure is building underneath.  Someone is going to blow.  It's usually me.

But if one of us can remember Jesus, can humble ourselves enough for just a few moments to breath peace, to remember our war is not against each other, to offer an olive branch in a small or grand gesture, I'm always amazed at how the storm cycle brewing, suddenly vanishes.

We had a horrendous day yesterday of travel. Long flights dotted with the irritability of constant technology malfunctions, delays experienced in the terminal and sitting on the runway, disappointed, tired children, time zone jacking with your eating schedules, Joey losing his beach hat, and just a long list of tiny, irritating, life things that can happen when you travel coast to coast with two children.

Add in the stress I've put myself under all week just trying to pack our family for this week long vacation while making sure the kids are enjoying their mom and their summer, and Joey trying to rap up loose ends at work during a very busy planning season, our spin cycle was already churning before the irritating day of travel began yesterday.

But somehow, my husband wakes up this morning, and it's a new day for him. He's managed to forgive me for all my tongue-in-cheek comments and saucy attitudes (which he had his fair share of contributing, but maybe not as much as myself), and he takes our two restless kids to grocery shop at Walmart for our vacation while I sit here in a quiet hotel room and marvel at how I ended up with a man that is SO good to me, which ultimately brings me back to the thought that I have a man who loves Jesus more than he loves me. Somehow, Joey is better at humbling himself and letting go of his pride and righ- to-be-right than I am.  He's able to brush things off his shoulders and not take them personally WAY better than I am.

And there's one part of me that wants to feel shame over this. Guilt knocks on my heart and begs to enter and play the poor-terrible-me tune.  Jesus shuts the door on that and reminds me there is no condemnation allowed in my relationship with Him. He forgives me, but He does want me to get a grip and fall in line with my fine husband's example, with Jesus' example, of forgive and live and love anyway. His mercies are new every morning.

And so I'll take the gift that Joey and Jesus have offered--this silent, clean hotel room, and I'll give credit where credit is due. I'll be grateful, deeply grateful for a man of God who loves Jesus first, me second, and our children third.  Be grateful for a husband who shoulders the hard work of stepping in and stepping up when my emotions and state-of-mind have got the better of me.  Be thankful that he's capable and willing to take both my kids to the grocery store AND do the shopping for me. 

He's very good at breaking the bad cycle in our marriage, but I'm also very aware of what it costs him to do so. Jesus is excellent at breaking the bad cycles in my life, and in these moments I'm keenly aware of what it cost Him to do so as well.

So I'll be grateful, deeply grateful that my Jesus makes Himself known to me in my marriage through my husband's humble sacrifices of self.  Be grateful for a God who shouldered the hard work of the cross, who stepped in and stepped up when my useless works and bad attitudes and sins were getting the better of me. Be thankful that my Jesus is more than capable of renewing and refreshing my heart and attitude if I will just take the time to let Him.

Joey will undoubtedly be back soon. Kids excited, ready to see their cousins, sun shining and all of us ready to feel warm Florida waves running between our toes. But my husband's willingness to sacrificially, love me, even in this small way--And I KNOW it was a sacrifice for him too, I know he's tired too--now makes my hard, defensive, exterior toward life soften. It makes my bad, selfish, what-about-me attitude dissipate.  His one act of selflessness helps me move past me. It makes me want to be selfless for him in return.

So the question always is, in any relationship, who gives first? Who's going to reset the spin cycle by choosing to be selfless enough to do the hard work of loving the other person even when they don't deserve to be loved? Even when you're not guaranteed to get anything in return? The person who humbles themself first, to the world, appears to be the weak one, the one who always accommodates, gives in, gives up, at least those are the lies I battle when I know I should break the cycle first.  So it's pride that really keeps my back turned most of the time. Pride that insists on "winning" this fight, this argument, this situation. Pride that requires an apology, an admittance of wrong before I will consider softening, letting my guard down, serving, loving the offender.

Yet every time, after the fact, I know it's the one who humbles themself to "lose" the argument or do something to soften and show compassion in the middle of the situation, who gives undeserved grace when every bone in your body is screaming you don't want to--I know that person is the real winner because they are more Christ-like, and they are showing true love.

Sigh. Why can't I be that person more often? I pray to be that person. I think God's grown me in this area with others outside my family, but it's hard work treating those closest to you with this same grace.  We expect so much from the ones who know us best, when really, they're just sinful humans like the rest of the world we somehow so easily forgive at times.

"Lord, thank you for my marriage. Thank you that it truly is the deepest and best picture of how You love us. Thank you for a husband who loves me well, who humbles himself to bear the weight of hard choices and hard situations, who breaks the bad cycles in our marriage with his servant's heart. Teach me to be more humble. I know that real love expects nothing in return, ever. Teach me to really love him, Lord. Forgive me for my hard, entitled heart. No one owes me anything, Lord, but I owe everything to You."

Dear Babysitters

Dear Babysitters,

I love you. Each of you. I trust you. You came highly recommended from trusted sources. My kids love you. Some of you have even gone above and beyond to invest in them, making them feel special with your special-hot-chocolate or ice-cream-decorating or even just fun crafts.

You are a valuable part of our weekly lives. You enable my husband and me to date and connect and strengthen our marriage. In the summer, you give me a breather, time to exercise, unwind, so I can be a better, more refreshed mom. (And let's be honest, give the kids a break from me too;)

So there's no argument here that you are appreciated and your job is important. But you don't pay taxes on that $15 an hour some of you have started asking for. (Remember folks, I live in CA. My GA friends probably think $10 an hour is a stretch.)

You are not a full-time employee of a company required to pay you $15 an hour.
You take care of my most precious possessions for about 3 hours, maybe 2, then you sit on the couch and watch television until we get home.

I'm willing to pay my really good sitters $2 an hour above minimum wage just to keep them happy and coming back and possibly choose my home over someone who's only gonna pay minimum wage. I think that's pretty darn fair. It's tax-free cash, people. Remember that.

And some of you don't even clean up my house at that price! I come home to a downstairs covered in toys, kids bedrooms a wreck, art supplies laying everywhere, and dishes! (Oh my goodness, don't even get me started on the dishes.) Would it kill you to wash the dishes? Even the ones I might have left from earlier in the day? With soap?

I figure some of the blame is on your parents because someone never showed you how to properly wash a dish or how to straighten a house. Many of you still live at home or in college dorms, and I pity your roommates.

So let me spell it out kindly for this generation of babysitters that somehow has grown up untrained and unaware--blame who you want. When you come to my home, for $2 an hour above minimum wage please...

Love my children. Pay attention to them. Play with them. Feed them. Moderate them. Oversee them getting to bed clean and at a timely hour. Keep them safe and your first priority at all times, at all costs.

Clean up ANY messes you and the kids make. In the garage, back yard, their rooms, on counter tops--take a damp rag or paper towel, and a little 409 and make it clean. Windex is for mirrors and windows. If you don't know how to clean something, my kids can probably show you how.

If you accidentally make a mess of the microwave, stove, or anything while cooking dinner, please wipe it up. Try to avoid scorching nonstick pans on the stove.

Wash all the dishes. If you're unsure of whether you can put it in the dishwasher, fill the sink with hot, soapy water. Place dirty dishes in said water. Scrub away all the food. Rinse with warm or cold water. Place on the towel next to the sink to dry. If the dish still has suds on it, it's not clean. If it still has food on it, it's not clean. If it still feels greasy, slimy, it's not clean.

Before you sit down on the couch, please take two minutes to walk around the house and put things back where they belong. At least get them off the floor. Fold towels, blankets, etc. Just make everything look neat.

That's it! Thank you for a job well done.

If you insist on asking for $15 an hour, I expect all of the above to be done as well as...

ALL the dishes. I don't care if I have left them there for 3 days. Remember, you don't pay taxes on that $15 an hour, and even McDonald's is gonna make you scrub dishes, ones A LOT dirtier than what's at my house.

If you want to treat my kids to something other than fish sticks and tater tots, that's on your dime. Please don't ask me to compensate you.

Take the cordless vacuum and get the downstairs floors spotless. All counter and table tops too.

Feel free to walk around the house and do something a little extra for that $15. All the cleaning supplies you need are under every sink in my house. Just because you didn't make the mess doesn't mean you can't clean it.

And that's that. Americans all over the US are fighting for $15 an hour at jobs where they will be required to pay taxes, and they go home to mouths to feed other than their own and bills to pay.

I commend you for trying to make money for yourself, for investing in the lives of children, for having the courage to even negotiate pay with me, but please don't be unreasonable, and for heaven's sake make it worth my money, or maybe I will just try Care.com instead, or call around for more reasonable babysitters.

I love you, but most babysitters aren't irreplaceable. Let's work together to make this work.

Sincerely,
A Slightly Dissatisfied Mom

To My Grieving Friend

Dear Friend,

I see you. I see your suffering. The weight of what you bear does not go unnoticed, unrecognized, or unappreciated.

And what might be hardest is there's nothing I can do to ease your pain. There's literally nothing to say that sounds right or appropriate or that doesn't need to be qualified in some way. So very often, I purposely choose to say nothing at all. I deliberately censor my conversations and catch myself correcting my phrasing as the words are coming out. And because I love you so deeply, part of me longs to not do this, to be care-freely honest as friends should be, but then I also love you so much I know that a gentle, tenderness and an understanding spirit are also needed. Honesty and discernment can still go hand in hand.

I never want to intentionally cause you more pain. So if I do, please forgive me and offer me the benefit of the doubt.

The truth is you're not the same person that you were before this grief consumed you. I don't expect you ever will be again. It will mark your story for the rest of your days. I know this, and yet, sometimes my heart skips a little when I see a glimmer of the old you, only to realize that's not fair and not true and not loving because the desire to see that person is completely selfish on my part. So every moment I spend with you now, I just choose to love you for who you are and how you are and where you are today. I expect nothing of you, and I'm grateful for the friendship you still offer.

So what to do? What to say? What to be? What to offer?

I've come to the conclusion all I have is my time and my presence. A listening ear on the other side of a text, an encouraging smile, a sympathetic touch, a supportive hug, a person to look into your eyes, see and acknowledge your pain and choose to stay. To stay for one more minute, one more hour, one more conversation, be one more distraction. 

I choose to believe for you when you can't. To believe you will one day find joy again. To dream of bright futures full of happy memories for you. To believe you still have great and mighty purposes to accomplish and fulfill on this earth. To believe that a future and a hope are still yours for the living. To petition the throne room of our Lord on your behalf, begging Him to hold you, comfort you, be Enough for you, for today, for this moment.

I offer you my presence in this hardest of battles to endure. I will stand beside you and hold up your arms when you're too weak to hold them up any longer. I will stand in the gap in prayer for you and your family, consistently, and persistently. I won't give up on you. I won't run or back down or grow weary in just being there.

I will cry for you. Tears in private I will not burden you with, but tears on your behalf nonetheless. And I like to believe that maybe every tear I've shed on your behalf is one less tear you've had to shed yourself. I'd like to think it works that way. That my highly emotional, overly sensitive self is being used in some way behind the veil in the kingdom of God to lighten your burden. That my ability to cry so easily is somehow a gift from God to relieve the burdens of others. I don't know, but maybe. I like to think so.

And this is all I have to offer. An unconditional presence with no strings attached, no expectations, just maybe a little grace on the days the sadness of your sadness weighs extra heavy. That's all. I wish it was more. I wish I could guarantee that would be enough. But you and I both know, Jesus is the only One who can be and will be Enough to carry you through. If my only purpose is to remind you of that every now and again, then I'm content.

This grief is not your whole story, my friend. It's not. I don't believe that. It may be the backdrop, the scenery, the background music to your story--all deeply meaningful, beautiful, and unforgettable--but not the whole story. I wish I could tell you when the joy will return. I wish I could shield you from the waves of grief that will continue to crash. Instead, I pray you let me swim in the storm with you because I will and be a small part to play in encouraging your story to continue because I can.

You are not defined by this grief. You are a child of God defined by Jesus Himself, His own dearly, preciously loved possession. Never forget that's who you truly are.

You are my friend. And I am blessed to know you, to journey with you. Given the choice, even knowing what was to come, I'd be your friend all over again. I can do nothing to remove your pain, to lessen your sorrow, but I can be someone who's here, who sees you right where you are, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I can choose to be here and show up and pray up.

That's all have to offer. To God be the glory if it's enough.

In Christ,

Your Friend

Living Emptied

When God is working deep lessons in your life, sometimes it's best to be silent, and let Him work. Sometimes the lessons are so hard and so personal, it feels like a violation of privacy to someone, somehow to speak up. Then sometimes you come out the other side of a hard lesson, and you experience God first hand, and now it's time to share. It's time to testify once more....my God always comes through.

My lesson lately has been a journey of endurance and brokenness. What does it look like to live a broken life? A poured out life? A selfless, daily focus, of letting the Lord fill me up, then pour me out again. Pour me into grieving friends, a worn, yet supportive husband, needy children, seeking high school students, and encouragement of godly women. Pour me into the servanthood of folding laundry, keeping schedules, replying to text messages, sending emails, cooking meals, and running errands. Pouring out physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Holding nothing back. Laying my head down at the end of every day having laid it all out there, for better or worse, I've been poured out either flesh or spirit, and watching, waiting, examining and weighing the results.

So this past week after a month of committing to this practice--a month filled with joy and pain, ups and downs, a speaking engagement, a family visit, exploring new places, the loss of a pet--I found myself getting ready to leave for a mission trip to Mexico (as a ministry team leader nonetheless) for our church high school Spring Break with a head cold, completely unprepared, and quite honestly, just empty.

I literally felt like I was just a body, showing up. I didn't expect much. I felt bad because I was afraid I had nothing to offer. A glorified chaperone.

"Lord, all of You. None of me. Please just fill me up, Lord. Now I really have nothing to give." This was my heart's desperate, quiet plea.

And my God showed up. Every day in a different way.

He showed up through the prayers of caring friends, old and new.
He showed up by bonding our ministry team.
He showed up in sweet conversations with students and adults.
He showed up in the bright, innocent smiles of children.
He showed up through 17 student salvations, several other ministry outreach salvations, and innumerable reconciliations.
He showed up in shared hurts and moments of vulnerable honesty.
He showed up in watching high school students get down and dirty and work, hard, without complaining, always smiling and willing.
He showed up filling the language barrier with real love, His love.
He showed up by filling me with the Holy Spirit in situations where, had I had any strength of my own, I would have pushed forward in my own flesh.

God just showed up. All week.

And now at the end of this trip, looking back, I just marvel. Simply marvel. I'm drained. I'm still sick. But I'm filled with a peace and a joy and a satisfaction that only comes from being an empty vessel used for God's purposes. Life feels abundantly full, yet I am keenly aware of just how empty I am in all the best ways.

Someone has spoken into my life recently about how she thinks I'm stretched too thin, how I should consider where I need to cut back. And she's probably right. Something has to give eventually. Right? Maybe? Maybe not.

What if our capacity for serving God and being used in His kingdom is simply a matter of how much capacity we allow for being completely emptied by Him for His purposes every day? 

                     By how long we are willing to sit still in His presence and be refilled for the pouring                            out? What if it's that simple?

I've heard people utter the phrases, "I can't do that. I don't have the money for that. I'm not gifted for that. That's not my strength. I could never commit to that. I can't give up that. I don't know how I can make that happen. I don't think I have the time."  And the list goes on....I've said all of these things at one point in my life or another. All of them. Believed I was in God's will saying them too.

But the truth is, my God doesn't fit inside a box of "I" that I create. I'm limited, but He isn't. I can't sometimes, but He always can. Where I am weak and empty, He is strong and overflowing. But I've rarely experienced His abundance because I've been too busy operating within the box of "I" that I create and I control--the things I know I can do, the things I know I am equipped for, the things I'm sure of accomplishing in my own ways and strength.

The problem is I now see I can live a good life accomplishing those things, a moral life, even a godly life in some ways, but I only experience the promised ABUNDANT life when I'm at the very end of myself with nothing left to offer or give, and yet I still say, "Yes," to God's calling, God's ways, and God's plan. I still walk through those open doors of opportunity He presents even when it's scary and hard, and I have nothing to offer but a vessel willing to be filled by Him.

I wonder how many of you are willing to let go, take a step of faith, and step into a "yes" to God in your life where you have no idea where the next step will take you? Where you have no idea how the details will work out? Where you have no idea where the money will be coming from? Where you simply have no idea, you just know that's where God is calling. 

I wonder how many of you will walk through that open door of opportunity where you can't see where it leads, but you hear God's voice calling you to come. Maybe you're tired, weary, expended, poured out, empty, yet He still calls. I wonder how many of you are willing to sacrifice yourself to the emptiness, the pouring out, in order to experience the abundance of how He can fill.

I wonder what stories you will have to share as a result. I wonder.

2 Corinthians 4:

 7But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; 8we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing;9persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. 11For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.12So death works in us, but life in you. (NAS)

A Good Dog

To know him was to unconditionally fall in love with him. I did. From the moment I saw his crooked white markings down the middle of his perfect face on the breeder website, I knew he was my puppy.

He'd get so excited when he saw you that he peed just a little. He was terrified of balloons, and with a soccer ball, he made Air Bud look like an amateur. Squeaky toys were forever his addiction. He could always jump higher than anyone expected, and food on any ledge was always his one vice and challenge.

He was obedient, loyal, loving, and patient. He never ran away from home even when he had the chance. He was smarter than your average dog, intuitive, submissive, and kind. I loved that he never needed us, but wanted us instead. He chose to be our dog.

These last golden years here on the Golden Coast were the glory days for him. He went for long romps on the beach, never needing his leash, always close on my heels. He loved to chase seagulls, and even waded a few tide pools!

In all of my loneliest days and hours in the past 12 years, he was my constant companion. Always within eye shot, I never left a room without him close behind. I always knew where he was, and vice versa.

He was a constant source of comfort, unconditional acceptance, and presence. He was my first baby before I had my real babies. He loved me more than anyone else. (Everyone knew it. We even tested him on several occasions. I always won.) I was his protector, and he kept Joey's side of the bed warm on the nights Joey was gone.

To say he was a good dog is an understatement. To say he was the best dog ever doesn't even come close to truth. He was one of many small gifts from the Lord in my life, and I pray he never felt neglected or unappreciated.

Rest in peace, my pup. I pray you actually get to catch all the rabbits you want in heaven.

Samson 2/2005-3/23/2017