The Power of Dinner

 Yesterday was the first day of school for my kiddos and it was certainly a departure from previous years. We decided to take a last minute vacation last week so we missed "Meet the Teacher" on Thursday. It's not usually a big deal so I didn't think a whole lot about it. Neither of my kids are new to the school and they both are comfortable with the building and staff. I figured we'd just take our supplies in on the first day, shake hands with the teacher, take a picture or two and that would be it.
Mom Fail.
Both of my kids, the boy and the girl, started having mild anxiety Sunday night that escalated into Monday morning. Both started questioning,"What if I can't find my classroom?" and "What if I don't know my teacher?"
We talked them down, explaining that we would, of course, walk them in and help them carry the supplies. We talked about how we would go with them to introduce our family to the teacher and say, "Hello!" It would be fine. It was fine.
After school I was so excited to hear all the details of the day. I wanted to know who they sat with, what their schedule looked like, and how awesome their teachers are. I was met with tired, overwhelmed silence and a few grunts.
Enter the power of dinner.
We decided to have a celebratory dinner at one of their favorite burger joints and as the lemonade and fries were ingested the words slowly started spilling out. Shelby knew all of her teachers first and last names, their cities of origin, and their favorite football teams. She had a sense for which one is going to be her favorite and which one is going to have the strictest classroom. She told us about a new friend who moved to our town only a week ago and an old friend that she was happy to reconnect with.
Seth told us about recess and lunch.
I've always known the value of a family meal. I've been a long time believer that sitting down together is a bonding experience and allows kids and parents to talk to each other about things other than punishments or instructions. Last night was a great reminder that sometimes they just need a little time to decompress after a day of over-stimulation. Dinner is a non-threatening place for them to share casually and for their dad and I to learn fabulous tid-bits about the day and about the kind of people they are becoming. Our dinner was not fancy, nor was the conversation, but both were valuable components to ensuring the health of our family. Time spent together is like a shot of vitamins to our relationship. I want to make sure family dinner time is a priority in our lives.

The Digging and Burying of Poop

There's a trick to teaching a dog not to dig. Have you heard the poop tactic before? This is a nugget of information that people with small, pocket size dogs probably don't need to know. It's crucial, however, when you own a horse dog.
Pocket dogs could dig and dig and dig and you'd have to fill a hole with a teaspoon. Giant breed dogs dig for two minutes and you fall in a hole that carries you to Middle Earth.
So the trick is this...it's gross so hold on...you bury the dog poop. When Frank was a puppy he showed tendencies towards a desire to dig. A wise dog trainer told me to simply place a turd or two into the hole he has been digging, bury it, and he will have no desire to dig in that particular place anymore. The hard part about this training technique (like all dog training) is that you MUST be consistent. Every hole, every area of the yard, every start of digging must be filled with poop and covered.
I did this for about a week. I had to watch him like a hawk. There was no letting him out the door and walking away. I would let him out, stand behind the window curtain like I was a poop carrying James Bond, and watch for him to dig. I would run out, say, "No!" in a loud and firm voice, and then pick up my shovel.
If you're asking how we had that much poop to fill all the holes then you don't own a Giant Breed and this information is not for you.
I haven't had to think about burying poop for several years. After that one week of training, Frank gave up digging. Some say it's because the dog feels it has sufficiently spread it's own scent throughout the yard. I say Frank had mercy on me and was tired of seeing me running with a shovel filled with poop.
This week I am pet sitting a lab puppy that likes to dig. I have begun the poop burying process again. The trick is knowing which poop is his from the pile of daily scooping.
I realize right now that my life may appear very glamorous. Try not to be jealous.
I actually had another thought this week though, as I was burying poop. There have been countless times in my life when I have been incessantly pursuing something. A thing, an idea, a goal, whatever....that isn't healthy for me. I think back at how many times God has said, "Stop! That's not good for you. Put that down. Let go of that. Walk away." I generally will put down whatever the bad thing is and step to another area of life and start digging.
What would happen if I asked God to help me bury the bad? What if I said, "God, I don't want to mess with this harmful thing again so I need you to get the shovel" and then fully laid it down? I'm assuming the scent of a buried past would help me to avoid digging up old holes again. I feel certain that God has some blessings he's been holding out for me that I haven't been able to see because I've been too busy digging on the other side of the yard.  How many rests by the fire or walks down the lane have I missed out on with my Father because I was obsessively digging holes?
Healing doesn't come in questioning the what-ifs but in making a conscious decision every day to ask God to bring the shovel. Healing comes when I can have peace in my heart, knowing that God wants more for me than obsessively searching for something that is outside of his will. Healing comes when I hand all the poop over and not dig it up again.