Post #19 of 40
Giving Up My Rumspringa
In the last two posts, I wrote about grief and the period of time after Leo’s death, which was the first time in our married life we’d been without a pet. I called this in-between time my Rumspringa. Deep in my heart, I always knew I’d go back to having a dog in my life. The question was when.
I predicted my Rumspringa would end by Labor Day of 2022. Getting a dog seemed like a summer thing to do. September was coming to a close, and Tom and I couldn’t agree whether or not the time was right.
One interesting insight I had during this time is that “no” often receives more weight than “yes.”
Is it time to get a dog? My answer was yes, and his was no. We are equal partners in the marriage, and yet, it felt right that the no weighed more than the yes.
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At the end of September, my mother, sister, and I watched the weather with increasing interest and concern. Hurricane Ian was headed toward Tampa and Fort Myers. My uncle (mother’s brother who visited us when we were in Okinawa) lives full-time in North Fort Myers. Several years ago, my parents bought the house next door to him as a winter getaway.
Uncle decided not to evacuate as did the sisters who live on the other side of my mom’s house. The winds in their area weren’t as bad as in some places, but the houses filled with 5-6 feet of running water. Uncle and the sisters took refuge on the second floor of my mom’s house, the only one in the area with more than one floor. Uncle said it looked like the Mississippi River as he peeked down the spiral staircase to what used to be my parents’ living room.
Everything on the insides of the houses was ruined. Communication was a challenge. Uncle’s phone had been swept away. No electricity, internet, or safe drinking water down there. Any vehicles that had been in the neighborhood were now useless.
I looked at my calendar - I had some important things coming up, but I needed to help in some way.
So, I made my decision. I would buy a plane ticket to Nashville, and I would either work from there and spend time with my mom, or I would drive my mom to Florida, and we would take supplies to Uncle and assess the damage to her house.
The next few days after I purchased the airline ticket went like this -
Pack what you might need in a disaster zone. Take a first-aid kit and a crank operated light/radio/phone charger, plenty of trash bags, and clothes that can be thrown away if ruined.
Assist Aruni at Kripalu at the Inner Quest Intensive. This was my third or fourth time to help in this program. (Please check it out and sign up if you possibly can. It is transformative!) While assisting, I was determined to stay present. I had more hurdles before entering the disaster zone.
The day after I returned from Kripalu, I prepared for my second colonoscopy in six months. The one six months earlier was worrisome, so this was my follow-up.
Get the colonoscopy! The procedure is nothing compared to dying of colorectal cancer, so I have no complaints. I just had to get over the prep and anesthesia and procedure quickly in order to get on a plane early the next morning.
Once in Nashville, I spent one night at WOLF with my mom, and then we began our drive at 5am the next morning. Fifteen hours later, we sat with Uncle in his house in damp chairs on a floor covered in dried mud.
During the next few days we shoveled and cleaned, discarded and carried. Volunteers from ECHO, helped with a lot of the heavy lifting — taking the wet, muddy, ruined items to the street. They even mopped the kitchen floor, and then they mopped and mopped again. The young volunteers carried out a refrigerator that had been pushed to its side by the running water. The volunteers tried so hard to contain all of the stinky, muddy water inside. They pulled up wooden floors and carpets and dragged them to the street. They carried sofas, TVs, chairs, printers, books, mattresses, and more.
Our friend, Wayne, who does all the maintenance and repairs on our house in Providence, was in Florida checking on his mom, too. He came down to see me on Sunday and helped us get our oxen out of the ditch - i.e - He helped me get all the interior doors off the hinges and to the street along with some crumbling shelving units and the dryer. When I saw him, my heart leapt. We are not close friends, but seeing a familiar face meant the world to me. He is as close to a super-hero as anyone I know.
This is a video I made for my family to help them understand what we were facing. I never meant for it to be “public,” but I’m okay with your seeing it now that time has passed.
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A few days later, I flew back to Providence long enough to say hello to Tom that night and then take him to the airport early the next day for a business trip — to Florida, of all places. My mom stayed in Florida about three weeks more.
After taking Tom to the airport, I went to Morning Prayer at St. Martin’s, and my brain began whirling; I was involuntarily picturing what the chairs and cushions in front of me would look like if they had been submerged in muddy sewage water. I walked through the hall and imagined what the floors would look like if they had been in the flood. Taking notice of the non-muddy stairs, climbed to my office on floor 3.5. Subconsciously, I think I liked being on an upper floor. Determined to work and be in the moment, I opened my computer at my desk, but before getting started, I took a look at the Small Dog Rescue of New England website.
And, I. fell. in. love.
I’ve never done the online dating thing. When I was dating, online dating wasn’t around. In fact, we didn’t even have online.
Maybe this experience resembles online dating slightly.
This was love at first sight. I thought I knew what I wanted — basically a dog that looked a little like Leo, but instead I saw this chihuahua mix, as different from Leo as you can imagine. His name was Dalton, and he was being fostered.
I started the process while Tom was still in the air.
I talked to the people at Small Dog Rescue of New England. They checked my references. I took pictures of the house and sent them. I talked to his foster mom and arranged a meet and greet. I began sending Tom and our grown-up kids pictures of Dalton, letting them know of my inquiry. Within 24 hours, I was considering names and asking Tom’s opinions. Within 48 hours, I texted him, “The stork visited.”
Dalton came home with me on a Thursday afternoon, and we have hardly left each other’s side since then. He reads my mind and knows what to do and which temperament to present. He brings joy to the folks at the church — the people who work, worship, and meet there.
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Tying up some loose ends:
The results from the follow-up colonoscopy were good. Big Relief.
What I experienced for a few days upon coming back was most likely the mildest case of PTSD — seeing the flood and the mud and the sewage everywhere I looked, when in reality, everything in Providence was fine.
What I continued to experience for weeks was a reminder about the temporary nature of…well…everything except God. We have one life on earth. LIVE!
Having 36 years of marriage in the books and knowing how dogs can positively affect mental and physical health, I adopted Dalton Fletcher Barr without a direct “approval” from Tom. My “yes” finally outweighed the no, and my health did, too.
Now, Tom and Dalton are the best of friends. Tom knew the day was coming when a dog would once again be in the picture. He just didn’t know when.
Giving up my Rumspringa was an easy decision after dealing in the disaster zone. Do I appreciate having Dalton more having been through my Rumspringa? I can’t say yes to that. Having a dog in my life is like having air or water. Doing without a dog for those nine months was painful.
Oftentimes, at Lent we give up something we love.
I challenge you to look at your life and your Lenten practices and ask yourself if you have a giving-up-practice that might need to be given up.
