Tag Archives: Abraham Maslow

Memories of My Friend, Missy

The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares. Henri Nouwen


I grew up loving animals and nature. I felt most at home outdoors—walking in the hills or sitting in a tree. I believe God introduced me to his unconditional love through my relationship with dogs.

 

My twelfth birthday I received the most amazing gift ever—a Golden Retriever puppy I named Daniel the Lion-hearted. Danny instantly became my best friend and loyal companion throughout my challenging teenage years. Danny did what great dogs do—he introduced me to loyal love. Danny lived for ten years before he lost his battle with cancer. The day I knew I needed to put him down was without a doubt the most difficult day of my young life. It was so upsetting to have my last act of love for Danny be to end his life. My heart broke and unleashed the expression of a lifetime of buried pain.

 

Love hurts. Caring is costly. It is no accident that it was 18 years before I got another dog. I used to blame my wife, Sue, for not letting us get a dog; however, I now realize I was unconsciously protecting my heart from the hurt of loving and losing again.  It was in February 1996, almost 28 years after adopting Danny that I fell in love with Missy. She was the opposite of Danny in a number of ways—she was a tiny little Maltese girl and he was huge Golden Retriever boy; she was petite and loved to be held and he was athletic and loved to wrestle. She was anxious, neurotic and extremely talkative and he was laid back, peaceful and relatively quiet.   She was a minute Maltese weighing 80 ounces and Danny was a beast weighing 80 pounds.

What they both shared in common was their care for others and their loyal love for me. They both understood how hungry I was for their attention, affirmation and companionship.

 

Missy and I formed a pact–I would faithfully look after and protect her and she would draw out the expression of my tenderness and vulnerability. This unspoken covenant began when I would sleep on the kitchen floor with her as she was grieving the loss of her brothers and sisters. Appropriately, Missy’s life ended in the way it began, with me laying on the floor with her in the early morning hours as she was struggling to stay alive.

 

Once again, my heart is healing from another breach. Missy is dead and I think my heart may have ruptured. I am thankful I have learned a little about grieving and have been fitfully preparing for this inescapable day. It took a courageous and tenacious confrontation by my son, Phil, to penetrate my denial about Missy’s demise. I knew she was dying; however, I dreaded the thought of life without her by my side.

 

As I was wrestling with the inevitability of her death, I was continually praying and asking God to let her die in her sleep. I found myself fantasizing about her breathing her last breath at my request and humbly sharing with others about my compelling faith. What I now understand was that I was not ready for her to die. Missy was at peace—it was me that needed to find the faith that I could survive another loss of love. When I found the faith to trust that God was my BIG Missy, then my eyes were opened and I knew I could do what needed to be done.

 

I believe a miracle was performed—it was a transformation in my heart. I embraced my responsibility to do what Missy needed me to do. Loving is often counterintuitive and costly. With Sue by my side and the care of my family, I had the support I needed to end Missy’s life. It was a wonderfully dreadful experience. I treasure the memories of my last days, hours, minutes and final seconds with Missy.

 

I am surfing the waves of grief. I am expressing my feelings as they surface. I am learning how to be with others more courageously and authentically. Missy is still by my side, running, talking, and being with me moment by moment. I am seeing all the Missy’s around me.

 

Our Hunger for the Shepherd

I opened my email and saw a message from the chancellor of my graduate school.  My stomach tightens. This is not good. I open the email to find a short message instructing me to rewrite several of my papers.  Detonation! My kids refer to this as Dad turning into his “hulk-self.” I wanted revenge, retribution—a slow painful process of payback against my imaginary abuser.

Who doesn’t hunger and thirst to be seen, known, accepted, cared for, protected, guided, and comforted. We all long to return to the Garden, to be with the perfect parent. None of us, however, grows up in the ideal home or has perfect parents. Abraham Maslow recognized the developmental nature of our being, beginning with our physiological need for air, water, food, shelter, sleep and sex.  Without these fundamentals we cannot survive.  Although we might exist for a short while with our physical needs met, without having safety and security we will inevitably perish at the mercy of a predator.

With our physical and safety needs satisfied, now we can begin to address our hunger for love and belonging. We can’t stay alive without the basics, yet, what would be our quality of life if we never know love. Levels one and two in Maslow’s hierarchy addresses our drive to survive. Level three and above deal with our hunger to thrive and ultimately actualize ourselves.  We have been created for abundance—loads of love, nourishment, satisfaction, meaning, and joy.  We are designed to cultivate our gifts and abilities in the service of living extraordinary lives.

At the same time, Jesus says we are sheep.  We are contingent beings, even though we are all but limitlessly gifted; we were created to ”be”—to be fully in relationship with God, each other and ourselves. God has made us to be a magnificent reflection of Himself; capable and competent yet dependent on Him as well as each other. We can survive alone, yet, we only will thrive in shared community with one another.

Jesus claimed to be the good shepherd—the whole, complete and paramount parent of all his sheep. He sees us accurately and is attuned to our every need. He also desires mutuality, as the scriptures say, that his sheep know him intimately. In fact, it is written in the scriptures that Jesus was made in every way like us and tempted in all things as we are. He is us, created us, knows us, intercedes for us, and will never abandon us.