She Belongs to Me, and I to Her

In honor of my friend, Simone, who is picking up her newly adopted pup, Winnie, this week I thought I would take this opportunity to share my story.

The Beatles have a song “I’ve Just Seen a Face,” and I can’t think of a more succinct description of my little girl. Her name is Frankie and our story is still unfolding, but first I need take you back. Suffice it to say that the story my husband and I settled on was that we just lived a lifestyle that was not conducive to pets. So for more than 26 years that we shared a home we simply did not have pets. I would even go so far as to say that we were officially NOT animal people. Now let me say that in my travels I had experienced many, many occasions where I could literally SEE the connection between my friends and their pets. I watched and felt the connection with the same curiosity that I watch a classically trained ballerina. Beautiful, but not something that I would EVER experience.

I have sat with friends in deep grief over the loss of their furry friends. I have cried with them. Not because I mourned the loss but because my friends were in such palpable grief. I would listen with a detached distance as friends compared pet stories, but always knew it was not something that was personal to me, nor did I ever think it would be.

Fast forward to a Tuesday night in December of 2006. My friend has always taken up the slack that I left in not being an animal person. Always a menagerie of horses, dogs, birds and the occasional hamster (I think). It’s a regular stop in my weekly calendar – Tuesday evenings with the girls. We go to the same house every week and I’m sure I heard “the story,” or at least parts of it. She had yet another dog which she had “rescued” from a home that could no longer handle her. She came with a name, Frankie, a persistent ear infection and, as I later found out, some definite personality “issues.” It’s almost Christmas, the weather is ugly and my spirit is waning. In fact, it has been months since I have been able to do anything from a place of joy. I feel as though I am in utter despair. I’m sitting at the dining table which has been our regular meeting spot. I maintain the same consistent relationships and over time you can hide from anyone, even yourself. I was having trouble getting off the couch or out of bed if I wasn’t actually required to be somewhere – like work. So it was in this space, on this otherwise non-descript Tuesday evening that SHE appeared. This beautiful creature ran through the house, straight to my knee, placed her beautiful two-toned muzzle on my knee, looked at me with her caramel-colored eyes and literally unlocked a new wing of my heart. Now, no one who knew me then would have described me as a Grinch, but I actually felt my heart change. I left that house that night – without saying a word – a changed woman. I was genuinely awe-struck and when I woke the next morning the only thing I could think was “how am I going to get that dog.” The story about how I negotiated bringing this creature is much more a story about our marriage than about her, so I’ll save that for another time.

“I’ve Just Seen A Face”
By: The Beatles

I've just seen a face,
I can't forget the time or place
Where we just met.
She's just the girl for me
And want all the world to see
We’ve met …

I knew NOTHING about being a dog mom. We brought home this amazing creature and she jumpstarted a life that felt like it was circling the drain. All I really knew (or had been told) was that she NEEDED exercise. Now, the truth is that I should have been doing this all along, but I could not get off the couch to save my life. For Frankie, though, ANYTHING. We started walking. In fact, I’m convinced that I became a local Forrest Gump. We walked, we went to behavior classes (turns out that was for me, too), and I learned about my girl. If you’re still with me, I’ll say it right out loud – Frankie Saved My Life. From the day that I met her, up to and including today, a wing of my heart has been unlocked and continues to grow that did not exist in me BF (Before Frankie). You will come to know more about me because of her, but for today I will simply close with profound love and deep gratitude for My Girl.

Into Little Pieces

Sometimes, when life feels a little too big for me to handle, I start to think about who will play me in the movie of my life. I wonder in great detail. Of course, all the actresses that originally came to mind when I first started to engage in this little fantasy many years ago were not quite right. They were too, too. I'll tell you who I've decided on later. First let me tell you who it's not. It's most certainly not Katharine Hepburn (too confident), or Audrey Hepburn for that matter (too dainty). It's not Emma Thompson (too English) or Catherine Deneuve (too French).

You are probably thinking – Really, Cath? You need a Hepburn or a Deneuve? But here’s the thing, and it’s a pretty big thing, she has to be able to really sell the profound gratitude I have for one of my most precious gifts. The gift of a broken heart. I know, cue the violins, but truthfully, I would not be the woman I am without it. For years, I felt like I was holding my breath trying NOT to get a broken heart. But that gave me only partial human experiences.

I could start to feel the cracks under the surface. Love that I gave needing to have something in return, so disappointment. The heartache and then a quick re-marshalling of my resources so that I could steel my heart before the actual break happened. And then multiple attempts to lean back in, but only far enough to place stress on an ever weakening heart center. Ultimately, it happened. There was a moment, or a person or some combination that I could no longer resist. Maybe I got older, maybe I just got softer or maybe my heart finally burst into a million pieces because it was actually too hard or possibly too small. I like to think that the little cracks along the way were the spaces where the spark of the Divine started to leak in. What I know today is that I will never go back to loving half way, even though loving wholly means that my broken heart will never truly be mended again. I like to think of the pieces of my broken heart as sparkling pieces of fairy dust that somehow get scattered easily as I move through this life. I hope that as I lean all the way into my life and the people whose paths are crossed with mine, that those microscopic pieces of my broken heart are actually dusting each and every interaction. I hope that people walk away and feel differently because the Divine has been planted in a fertile space like the dandelion snowflakes on a warm breezy spring day.

Yes, in the movie of my life, the fantastic Susan Sarandon will have to convey with a wink or a smile or a well-placed tear that my life is its richest BECAUSE of my broken heart.

Grace On Demand

This weekend I saw the play "33 Variations." Knew nothing about it heading over to the Ahmanson on a beautiful Los Angeles Saturday afternoon, but open and excited to be spending the day with my dear friend, Chris. Funny little side note about my friend Chris. Her last name starts with the letter "T," so frequently she appears in lists as ChrisT -- Love That!! So this play gets sort of a slow start, but finishes big and when I say big I mean that three days later I'm still discovering what I liked about it. Today, it seems that the theme that has stayed with me is that no matter what hypothesis begins my day, I will end up where I am meant to be.

Today I will publish this, my first public blog!! I have tossed e-mails back and forth with my friends and I love the feelings that come from lobbing in a few well placed loving thoughts to those in need. But this idea of publishing the random thoughts of an angel who is traversing rather clumsily across this expansive life is a whole new idea for me. I revel in the thoughts and feelings of others and feel, at least today, as though I am willing to have others know me just a little better. So this is me -- constantly trying to adjust the crooked halo and wondering where the bluetooth attachment is so that I can receive the messages that I'm sure must be coming from the Divine while I'm experiencing cosmic dropped calls.

I heard myself saying to someone today that I believe that the Divine sort of picks up the slack for those who simply do not have the resources for the task at hand. This makes me wonder where I am ill-equipped and where I simply need to ask for Grace. Contrary to the title of this particular posting, I do not actually believe that Grace is something to be demanded, but rather something which is simply available for the asking and receiving by the much needed, overly tired, dragged too long through the mud, angel with a slightly crooked halo and cosmic hearing that needs a little fine tuning. This weekend someone used the term "dear ones" to describe everyone in a particular room. Today is one of those days where I will simply, as one of the divine dear ones, humbly request and gratefull receive just a smidgen of Grace.