Ukraine: Why Does It Matter?

 

By Marilyn Moore

After weeks of continuous movement of tanks and troops and armaments to the east border of Ukraine, all the while saying that there was no intent to invade Ukraine, Russia invaded Ukraine three days ago.  This action, the most aggressive warmongering in Europe since World War II, was predicted by US intelligence offices and is part of Russian President Putin’s plan to reassemble the former Soviet Union, under his authority.  He begins with Ukraine, one of the republics in the former Soviet Union, which formed as a nation when the USSR fell apart.  In recent years, Ukraine has adopted governance principles more aligned with European democracies than USSR authoritarianism.  They have discussed membership in NATO, an action that Putin sees as a threat.  So, with a mighty army, Russia has invaded, and is very close to the capital city of Kyiv.  

Ukraine has an army and is resisting, with more strength and determination than some expected, perhaps including Putin.  There are anti-war demonstrations breaking out across the world, including, to Putin’s surprise and dismay, in Russian cities.  Seems that not all Russians want to go to war.  A resolution condemning the invasion was introduced in the UN Security Council; not surprisingly, it was blocked by Russia.  NATO has promised support for Ukraine, and individual countries in NATO and the EU have done the same. The weight of world opinion appears to condemn Putin’s actions.

A friend’s question yesterday, “Can he just do this, and get away with it?” is the question being asked by people everywhere, those who live in Ukraine, those who live in the countries that are just beyond Ukraine, leaders of nations throughout the world, and those whose professional lives are invested in both national security and global peace efforts.  Does might make right?  Does international law have meaning?  

At this time, no nation has contributed its own armed forces, boots on the ground.  They (and that includes NATO and the US) have provided the Ukrainian government with weapons, with training, with security intelligence, with relief funding.  The UN is present in Kyiv, providing medical relief efforts and food and shelter for those whose homes have been destroyed.  And every nation in NATO, including the US, is levying severe economic sanctions against Putin and other Russian oligarchs personally, and against the country. Shutting Russia out of the global trade system, freezing assets held in banks outside of Russia, will have a devastating impact on Russia and its people…but not immediately.  So, for the moment, the Russian military advances, the Ukrainian military resists, and bombs are flying over Kyiv.

This is a rapidly-changing situation, and it will be out of date almost at the moment I press “publish.”  I have no particular expertise in Russian history; my summary of events is based on my reading of current news stories and from my understanding of historic relationships.  I believe it is basically accurate; I also know that there are complexities and nuances I’ve most likely totally missed.  Still, I write what I know at this moment. And I write to set in place the basis for asking the question, “Why does this matter?”

So, why does this matter?  Why does a conflict between one of the world’s super powers (when it comes to weaponry) and a small neighboring country half-way around the world matter?  Why is there 24/7 coverage from every major news organization in this country and others?  Several reasons, I think, some of them geo-political, some of them economic, some of them deeply philosophical, some of them personal.

Some are concerned that this action by Putin is the first step of invading and taking over more countries, those in the ring beyond Ukraine.  They remember the first step of WWII, when Hitler started by invading and overtaking Poland, and then kept going.  Is that Putin’s plan, to begin with conquering Ukraine and then continuing to other countries?  The next ring of countries beyond Ukraine includes many in NATO, to whom every NATO country is obligated to provide military assistance by the treaty all nations signed. That includes the US, and that could mean US soldiers being deployed for active warfare in those countries.  Recent polls show just slightly over 25% of respondents in this country willing to commit troops to this conflict, but if this conflict moves to Poland, or Lithuania, or Estonia, US troops will be there, resisting Russian troops.

Some are concerned that this has the potential to escalate into a major world war, and this time, the combatants have nuclear weapons.  Not as many as at the height of the Cold War, but enough that the earth could be truly destroyed.  The specter of “mutually assured destruction” has kept the use of nuclear weapons in check for decades; there is not promise that this will continue to hold.

This matters because it once again illustrates the connectedness of the world in which we live.  Within hours of the invasion, stock markets around the world plunged.  The price of oil shot up.  Rumors of significant increases in the price of gasoline abounded, and most likely the rumors will be the reality.  Higher energy costs ripple through the economy, causing higher costs in most sectors. Yesterday, the third day of the invasion, the US stock market rebounded, as the Russian market and currency tumbled.  Ukraine is a major grain producer, and prices of grain increased dramatically, and then dropped dramatically.  Ukraine’s wheat is a major part of the grain used by the United Nations for hunger relief around the world; if production is affected, more world hunger is the result.  The UN estimates there may be more than 500,000 refugees, seeking safety in other countries, including ours.  One hundred years ago the US tried to be an isolated country during WWI; that did not hold, and it will not hold now.  We are a connected world. 

Those who are deeply committed to peace wonder why it is we (that would be the global we) cannot seem to invest the same energy in resolving conflicts peacefully as we do in creating advanced weaponry.  Can we not be better than this?  That is not a new question; Walter Cronkite asked it decades ago.  There are peaceful gatherings of peoples of all ages and faiths holding candles and uniting in voice in cities around the world, witnessing for peace.  The prayers released by major religious leaders are prayers for peace, prayers for wisdom, prayers for compassion, prayers for those whose lives are already forever disrupted.  They pray for the soul of the planet; it matters.  

And for me, it matters because of Maria.  Maria was a graduate student in a class I taught a number of years ago, and she and her husband and their children have become a part of our family.  Maria (not her real name; I don’t want to jeopardize the identity of her family) is from the Ukraine.  She and her husband and their children live in the US, but her mother and her brother and his family live in Ukraine.  Not in Kyiv, but in another large city.  Maria and her family were able to visit her family in Ukraine last summer, the first time they had seen them in more than two years.  She shares wonderful photos of her home city, its parks and fountains and beautiful buildings, and her face lights up as she talks about the place and the people.  Her mother has relatives who live in Poland who have urged her to come there where it’s safe, but her mom refused to leave Ukraine without her son and his family, and her son is of the age where he is required to stay in Ukraine to serve in the army if called upon to do so. So Maria’s family is there, and when I see the reports of bombed cities and people taking cover in subway stations and shortages of cash and food and gasoline, I see Maria’s mother and brother and his wife and family.  And they matter.

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ON TWO YEARS OF MAYHEM....

"A few choice words from five plain-spoken women of the prairies.” 

Just over two years ago, five Lincoln women gathered at a local coffee shop to talk over how they might come together and write a weekly blog featuring a variety of voices.

Over the next few meetings, planning went smoothly until the group got stuck on choosing a name … Five Women Stew?  Five Women ?  At some point one of the soon-to-be bloggers spotted a poster hanging on the coffee shop wall … and one word from that poster resonated with all of us.

Mayhem.

Thus, our blog was born – the first column published in February of 2020.

Eager to get started, we each created a long list of potential story topics and had finished one single round of five blogs – when a mysterious virus clobbered the world and, strangely enough, turned life into true mayhem.  Little did we know how appropriate our name would be.

So, today we thank our readers for coming along with us on this wild and wooly journey.  And we honor our two years of mayhem … as each blogger considers the past two years.

JoAnne Young

The universe had delivered mayhem, but in the midst of that, it handed the five of us this gift: a way to give voice to our fears, our frustrations. To muse and reflect. And to find the joy of sharing words and thoughts with anyone willing to read them, to look a little deeper, to have those rangy conversations with you all. 

I wrote about the lesson I learned from the brother of a fallen Lincoln police inspector to not put off being with friends and family with the thought “one day I will …” Do whatever possible to see them, even if it’s just a regular meeting on the porch to share your day or your week, or lunch on the deck.

I lost my own sister in early 2021, who I hadn’t seen through all of the pandemic and even before, and as I traveled across half a country to see her one last time, the many bridges I crossed to get there showed me the meaning of siblings in our lives.

“Our siblings are the bridges that enable our crossings over life’s waters – from our parents to our grown-up selves, from our childhood wanderings to our adult groundings. 

“We use those bridges while we can. Because at some point, the darkest of waters are there before us and we must find a way to cross them on our own.” 

The circumstances of the past two years have also given me time to reflect on the role of women and how we can’t let down our insistence on equal opportunities and representation, and respect for what we have to offer our city, our state and the world.

Our country is still facing crisis after crisis affecting women.

What would it be like in Nebraska, I mused in a 2021 blog, if the numbers were reversed? If 36 women served in the Legislature and 13 men? If the governor, lieutenant governor, secretary of state, treasurer, auditor and attorney general were all women instead of men? If a woman were president.

We are still far from where we need to be. And as Abigail Adams wrote to her husband, John, in 1776 before the meeting of the Continental Congress, if the needs of women are not addressed “we are determined to foment a rebellion.”

We are still waiting for our Equal Rights Amendment.

Mary Reiman

5 Minutes...maybe 6

On May 3, 2020 I wrote about my mom ‘...5 minutes is our new normal. It’s how long I seem to keep her attention before she hands the phone back to Carol.’

Today’s Update: We disconnected the telephone last week. Mom is almost 99 years old and no longer wants to talk on the phone. That is disconcerting for this daughter who lives 255 miles away. However, it is with great joy that we are again allowed to sit in her room, watch her sleep, talk with her as she wakes up and smiles, read her our favorite childhood poems, respond as she asks a question, and then watch as she returns to sleep. That happens within 5 minutes...maybe 6, and recharges my heart and soul with love, happiness and gratitude. I am still amazed she recognizes us with our masks and goggles, but she does! She continues to receive great care and I am still in awe of the goodness, kindness and dedication of the nursing home staff, especially as they have maneuvered through the last two years. 

Forever Grateful

As I reflect on the 18 months since the passing of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, I am reminded of her words, “Real change, enduring change, happens one step at a time.” As I think about how best to be an advocate, an activist, I think WWRD...What Would Ruth Do? 

‘How and Why’ I Read

The title of my first blog. I have expanded my reading to more biographies and memoirs, hoping/needing to find inspiration in the words of others. Perhaps it’s just a yearning for words that will heal the unsettled feelings I have too often. I highly recommend Jane Goodall’s ‘The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times.’ 

“Hope is what enables us to keep going in the face of adversity. It is what we desire to happen, but we must be prepared to work hard to make it so.” AND “True wisdom requires both thinking with our head and understanding with our heart.” This is still why I read. 

Mary Kay Roth

Over the past two years the power of writing blogs turned into something almost magical for me, something like holding up a candle in a pretty dark place.  I’m not sure I could have survived the pandemic without our Five Women Mayhem family … and words that consistently helped me embrace and illuminate the turmoil of a perplexing world.

Our very first blog in February, 2020 – featuring my dad’s old, frayed t-shirt, tucked away in the back of a dresser drawer – was really about the perplexities of grief.

“After the loss of our parents, there will always be unanswered questions. Unexpectedly and periodically, the finality of their departure will still smack us in the gut. And I’m guessing, here and there, we will need to readjust our settings – something like when our GPS gets all messed up – to follow our own true north. Meanwhile, I still have that old gray t-shirt, tucked in my dresser drawer.” 

(Update: The t-shirt remains in my drawer. And every now and then I still take it out and hug it close.)

A mere five weeks later the world had transformed – as I wrote the first of many pandemic blogs, this one right on the cusp of COVID:

“… I must admit, COVID-19 is the perfect name for a villain virus.  I can picture it sheathed in black, heaving and breathing with the menacing voice of James Earl Jones: ‘You don’t know the power of the dark side …’

“So today, just for today, I will enjoy my cup of coffee. I will think about the scent of my granddaughters, cradled in my arms.  I will remember the honey golden light splashing into my window at dawn, right alongside the earliest of birdsong. Because, yes, the first robin is back …  there are sandhill cranes dancing along the Platte River.  Today I am planting pansies. And for now, that’ll do.  That’ll do just fine.”

(Update: I am planting pansies again. Very soon.)

Penny Costello

Mary Kay Roth and I have lived on the same street for 25 years. We’ve grown from next-door acquaintances to dog co-parents, to dear friends. Over morning coffee we’ve shared the trials and tribulations of parenting, grandparenting, our professions, and politics. When Mary Kay came up with the idea of starting this blog, she invited me to join in the Mayhem, providing an opportunity to explore a new way of writing, and the pleasure of collaborating with four amazing women. It’s been both a grounding and an expansive experience in a time of forced isolation and disconnectedness in uncharted territory. In that spirit, I’d like to reflect upon some recent events that give me hope.

In “On Buddies, Dogs, and Humans” I shared tales of what I call the Good Dog Club, my extended family of canines who regularly spend time in my home or on play dates with me and my two dogs. BABNAB is the acronym for the cardinal rule of the Good Dog Club – Be a Buddy, Not a Butthead. In that post, I submitted that, in these increasingly divisive times in America, BABNAB could apply to humans as well. 

This week, one of, if not THE biggest butthead in the Nebraska State Legislature has resigned, rather than face the blinding light shed by the public exposure of his misdeeds. Instead of being a buddy, he has used his public face and voice to denigrate other Senators with middle finger salutes on the legislative floor. He has referred to advocates for LGBTQIA inclusion as ‘pronoun Nazis’, and his generally dour curmudgeonly demeanor has spewed forth across the state for far too long. Score one for civil discourse in the Nebraska Unicameral.

Ringing in the new year of 2022, “On Brain Injury, Butterflies, and Becoming” I wrote about Monarch Butterflies, their amazing process of metamorphosis from egg to caterpillar to butterfly, and their semiannual migrations to and from Mexico and California.  

Monarchs were feared to be on the verge of extinction in 2020. Populations had decreased by over 90% in the past two decades, due to habitat loss, agricultural practices, and human encroachment. Sites that previously had been the winter home for millions of butterflies were visited by a few hundred. But hope, and apparently Monarch Butterflies spring eternal. In 2021, about 7,000 arrived at Pismo Beach in Central California. That’s a 3,500% increase from the previous year. Hopefully the upward trend, and human support for that resurgence, will continue. 

Marilyn Moore

In the past two years, I have written twenty-four thousand, eight hundred seventy-five (24,875) words, in 23 blogs, about life in mayhem.  I wrote to figure out what I was thinking, often surprised by my own thoughts as they took shape on paper.  And I grounded my footsteps and my soul in the prairie….

I ranted….

From “More Work to Do,” June 19, 2021: “A critical issue in our state, as in every state, is the disparity between opportunities and outcomes based on race and ethnicity.  Whether we look at high school graduation, college enrollment, lifetime income, family wealth, home ownership, or any of the health measures we might examine, there is a gap between those who are white and those who are persons of color…and the outcome is always better for persons who are white.  Let’s be a leading state to acknowledge the disparity and make plans and allocate resources to reduce that gap, to assure life’s best opportunities for all Nebraskans.  (An understanding of historic practices and policies that have resulted in these disparities might be helpful….)”  More work to do, and the conversation is getting harder…. 

I hoped….

From “The Great Upheaval,” May 23, 2020, where I likened the impact of Covid to a powerful earthquake, with all the tectonic plates (our social institutions) shifting and reminding us of our utter connectedness:  “I hope that when we are able to gather again, at places of work, places of worship, places of learning, family picnics, graduations and weddings and funerals, concerts and ball fields, that we do so with profound joy and gratitude at the simple gift of being in community....because it is in the connections that we find meaning, substance, energy, and life itself.”  Still hoping for this…. 

I was awestruck….

From “Of Matters Celestial,” December 20, 2020:  “The fact that we know it (the science of the winter solstice) is the most awesome of all, that human minds have begun to understand the Mystery of Mysteries in the universe and beyond…and the questions that are raised from what we know causes us to raise our eyes to all that we do not know…and that is truly awesome.”  The earth, the sky, the water, the cells deep within us and the universes and galaxies beyond our own…the most awesome of all.

Some blogs close easily with “the end.” This is not one of them.  This is clearly “to be continued….”  Because that’s what's happening right now with mayhem – it’s not going away. 

 

*** And neither are we. Like us on Facebook at 5 Women Mayhem***

 

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A love story begins … Dad’s long-lost letters from World War II

 

Feb. 21, 1945

My dearest Ardell, 

Honey I miss you more every day. But it looks like this is it. Tomorrow morning we go aboard our ship, our destination is still unknown. I know this means we are getting farther apart but it’s for sure they cannot keep us apart forever, honey. I’ll love you more and more all the time and will never quit loving you. Someday we’ll both lay side by side and the rest of the world will go by, but we’ll be in our second heaven – because the most wonderful woman in the world is waiting for me.  You know, honey, that means a lot to a guy.  Love & kisses, Bob

My parents, Ardell and Bob Roth, were married for almost 72 years.  

I’m pretty familiar with the middle and end of my mom and dad’s story. But of course, kids generally know little about the beginning of that story – the mysterious void before mortgage payments, babies and family vacations.

After my parents passed away and we were cleaning out their home, however, I discovered a treasure trove, neatly bound in crisp pink ribbon: Hundreds of letters my dad had written to mom while they were both serving in the Navy, dad stationed in the South Pacific during the final year of World War II – mom stationed in Idaho.

Dated between February and October of 1945, I’ve finally read them all – letters written when my sister, brothers and I were all but a twinkle in my dad’s eye … when two young lovers stood poised on the cusp of a life.  

Feb. 25, 1945 – at sea  

My dearest, 

All I can see right now is blue, everywhere.  Boy, honey, it’s really lonesome out here without you. I cross my fingers all the time and wait for the day we can be together again. I didn’t think there was a woman in the country that would make me think of her, day in and day out, and want to be with her, but I have to admit I was wrong … All my love, all my life …

March 19, 1945 – 21:00 (stationed in New Caledonia in the South Pacific) 

In the daytime I have a busy daily routine, so it isn’t so bad, but when evening starts coming on I get an extra empty feeling down inside me. So I picture different times, times when you’re in your uniform, all slicked up, and when you’re in that slim, pretty, blue and white nightgown, you were really beautiful, honey …

My parents were married on Nov. 25, 1944, a mere three months after their first date. They were both serving in the Navy that summer, stationed in Seattle, Washington, when my dad – whose job was an electrician – climbed up a ladder to fix some ceiling wires in barracks reserved for newly arriving Waves … just as my mom ducked into the same building to lift her skirt and adjust her garter.  Legend goes that my father looked down in shock and amazement, whistled and called her quite the babe, as my mother looked up aghast and wouldn’t speak to him for weeks.

She finally relented to “one date and only one.” Then caved for a second date that kicked off with a call from dad who was in jail for brawling (claiming he had defended a friend). Three months later they were married – but only after their commanding officer promised that dad would not be leaving anytime soon. He shipped out two months later.

May 21, 1945 – 20:30

Honey, you little bundle of sunshine. Those couple months of married life were the most wonderful ones I have ever had.  I always wondered how a fellow could tell when he’s in love.  But I guess it just gets in your blood and runs all over you and boy honey my blood is pure you.  The day is coming when we’ll just be in a daze, two happy people, too much in love to ever say good-bye again …  

True confession, I have never been fond of Valentine’s Day, that special time when Hallmark and the floral industry strong-arm people into proving their adoration for one another.

But I do believe in love, and there’s something outrageously audacious about a love that perseveres through more than seven decades of valentines.  There’s also something outrageously audacious about peering into your own mom and dad’s love story – squirming just a bit at their unguarded longing – while also feeling an odd sense of joy that, once upon a time, your parents felt such unbridled passion. 

June 16, 1945 – 19:00 

Dearest Ardell,

After I went to bed last night I lay thinking of those nights we had together, to have you lay there beside me when we would talk and talk, and after a fashion go off into a sweet sleep.  And by the way, don’t go buying any twin beds. Someone has to keep those toes of yours warm and that guy is going to be me, honey … I’ll be dreaming of you …

July 2, 1945 – 20:00  

Let’s see, what should we imagine doing this evening. How about just taking a drive along some pretty highway and enjoying the scenery and cool breeze, I think that would be just the thing with you sitting very close at my side and the radio playing and just riding along with no one to bother us…  

My parents did not have an easy marriage. Mom was a realist and a steadfast introvert who colored between the lines and drove cautiously between the lanes. Dad was a romantic and a blazing extrovert who attempted to charm many a police officer out of a traffic ticket.  They withstood countless stone-cold arguments as they both stubbornly refused to give. They raised four children amidst years of change and churn, road trips, tight budgets, joy and loss. They buried a son. And both of them almost walked away from the marriage, several times.

But by god, they endured.  

Sept. 2, 1945 – 12:00

Dearest Ardell.

Today is really a great day, I suppose we’ll never see another one like it as long as we live.  The war is over for sure.  And the day is coming and is not too far off that our dreams will be fulfilled. I’m thinking of you now as they are playing “Just Close Your Eyes” and I would give a few months’ pay just to close my eyes and get a honest-to-god kiss. Now that would be cream and sugar … Tonight yours and yours alone …

My mom died at 98 after she took a nasty fall, their marriage just shy of a 72^nd anniversary.  My dad was starting to disappear into dementia at the time and spent the weeks after mom’s death ceaselessly and obstinately searching for her.  He passed away a couple months later.  

A dear friend reflected: “You know, it took a little time, but I believe your dad finally figured out where your mom had gone, and nothing on earth was going to stop him from following her.” 

Oct. 28, 1945 – 21:00 (final letter)

It’s another lonely Sunday night here, gosh, I miss you. But honey, do you realize maybe inside the next four weeks we won’t be writing anymore? We are packing up and getting ready to move out – and it will be the greatest day of all the days when we meet again.  Can you picture us, honey, will you remember me or will we have to get acquainted all over again? I’m only waiting for the day I can look at you, take you in my arms and squeeze you until it hurts and smother you with kisses.  With all my love …

My dad was home by Christmas. And their story began.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

On Synchronicity, Purpose, and a New Home for Zar

by Penny Costello

My Phone Gallery

 Those who know me know I’m a crazy dog lady. My Facebook news feed is filled with images from various animal rescues, lost pet groups, and regularly posted pictures of the dogs in my home and in my care under the moniker of “Snuggly Dog Chronicles”. The vast majority of photos in my phone are captures of canine cuteness.

Those who truly know me understand that if they tell me they’re thinking of getting a dog, they’ll soon be receiving shared posts of dogs up for adoption in rescues until they either choose and adopt, or they tell me to stop. I can’t help it. If dog-human matchmaking were a profession, I would be wildly happy and successful. As it is not, I’m blessed and/or cursed to answer this calling, passion, or purpose as a hobbyist.

One day, late in December 2021 I saw a Facebook post seeking a new home for a very sweet-looking Brittany Spaniel mix. His owner, the post said, would be moving into assisted living soon, and sadly, she would be unable to keep the dog.

Becky, Jeff, & Sunday

 

 

Without another thought, I sent the post to one of my oldest friends from high school. Becky lives in Spearfish, South Dakota, with her husband, Jeff. Her first very own dog, Sunday, infused in her a lifelong love of Brittany Spaniels. After Sunday, she had Josie, another Brittany, followed by many dogs of many other breed mixes. A crazy dog lady like me.

I had no clue whether or not Becky was even considering getting a dog when I shared the post with this message. “If you want him, I’ll deliver him to you.”

A few hours later, Becky texted back, “Oh my heart… a Brittany!’

“Yep,” I texted, “you could name him Monday. 😊”

“We’ll have to talk. I’ll call you in about a half-hour.” And she did. And that’s where the synchronicity comes in.

Earlier that day, Becky had looked out her window at the house next door, where her daughter’s family lives. She saw their dog, Zara, sitting at the door hopefully waiting to come inside. Zara is a sweet, rambunctious young Labrador Retriever.

Becky texted her daughter, “Zara wants me to tell you she wants to come inside.”

Her daughter texted, “Zara wants me to tell you she wants to come live with you.”

Becky replied, “Nope. When I get another dog, it’s going to be a Brittany.” That afternoon, she received my offer to deliver a sweet Brittany, who needed a new home, and whose name, by the way, is Zar.

Zar

Carl Jung coined the term synchronicity in the 1920s, to describe those occurrences of seeming coincidence that make us sit up and pay attention. Jung believed, and I agree, that the human soul is in a collaborative, playful relationship with the energies of the universe between what is seen and what is unseen. When these events happen, they illuminate our soul connection to those energies and each other.  When synchronistic things like this happen in my life, I’m filled with a sense of wonder and delight.

Becky and I reached out to Faith, who had created the Facebook post seeking a new home for Zar. Faith’s mother was Zar’s owner who was soon transitioning to assisted living, which meant Zar would be coming to live with Faith and her family until a new home was found. We set up a Zoom meeting with Faith, her mother, and Zar to see if a good match could be made. When we all agreed it seemed like a good match, the next thing to do was get Zar to his new home in Spearfish.

Faith and Zar

In my mind and heart, Zar needed to be able to weigh in on this proposition, too. I wanted to meet him and get to know him a little before I turned up at his house, a complete stranger who would whisk him away from the life and family he’d known to an unknown and unchosen future. 

Faith welcomed me to her home to get better acquainted with her and Zar. We spent about an hour together, humans getting acquainted, Zar and I getting to know each other through scratches and smells. I was immediately struck by his sweet disposition, good manners, and incredibly soft fur. He was struck by the smells of multiple dogs on my shoes, clothes, and hands. I loved him almost instantly, and he decided I was okay, too. The next time I would see Zar, I would be whisking him away to a new life.

As I prepared for our road trip, my emotions railed between excitement to introduce this new family member to a great home with one of my dearest friends and her family, and true sadness for Zar and his current family who had to say goodbye due to circumstances beyond their choosing.

Road trip day arrived. When I entered Faith’s house, Zar was happy to see me. Her mother was there as well, and I was glad for the chance to meet her in person and reassure her that he was going to a good place. They sent his bed, a bag of food, and treats with him, along with kisses, hugs, and high hopes.

We put his bed in the back seat, and he jumped in the car in eager anticipation of adventure. I sat in back with him, and my wife, Kate took the first driving shift of the 550-mile trip to his new home. As we drove through town, he looked excitedly out the windows, taking in the sights. But as we came to the outskirts of town and neared the interstate, his excitement turned to anxiety. There was clearly a shift in his energy, as if he was saying, “Wait. What? Where ARE we going? What’s going on?” He whined and whimpered. Eager anticipation gave way to fear of the unknown.

“It’s okay, Zar,” I tried to comfort him. “You’re on your way to a new home with a family who is going to love you so much, and they are so excited for you to be there.” A staunch believer in animal communication and the importance of talking to your dog(s) about things that will be happening in their lives before they happen, I explained to him that I was not going to be his new person, that he was going to meet more new people, and big changes were happening for him, but he would be okay. I continued to pet him and talk to him until he rather sadly laid down and rested his head on my leg.

Over the next nine hours on the road, Zar would occasionally sit up and look around to see where we were now. When we stopped for lunch and later for gas, I took him for brief walks to stretch his legs, sniff, and take care of doggy business. His spirits lifted through the day, but didn’t completely return to the happy excitement when he first jumped into the car.

As we approached South Dakota, I took over driving, and Zar had the back seat to himself. He was calm, occasionally checking out the scenery, and then settling back onto his bed. When we finally reached the exit to Spearfish, I rolled down the back windows about halfway, and I said, “Check it out, Zar. This is your new home town. You’re almost home, Buddy.”

He sat up and stuck his head out the window, ears flying in the breeze. The fearful, sad expression had left his face, and he was clearly taking in all the sites and smells with curiosity and, it felt to me, a sense of acceptance. He seemed to be thinking, “So, this is it, eh? Okay. Doesn’t seem like a bad place.”

Zar, Warrior, and Zeke

When we arrived at Becky’s, she welcomed us in, and Zar immediately started exploring the house, sniffing, gently greeting Becky, then Jeff, and the resident dog, Zeke. He was polite in meeting Warrior, an ancient cat whose approval would be imperative for Zar’s continued presence in this house. After about an hour, we left him there and settled into our hotel for the night. As we left the house and got into the car to leave, I heard Zar whimper, and I knew I was going to miss him, too. The next morning, Becky texted photos of him peacefully snuggled in on her bed. He was home.

Becky and Zar

As I look back on this trip with Zar, I am grateful for the chance to get to know this sweet soul. I marvel at the synchronicity that connected me with him, and with his former and future families. I am honored to have been entrusted by his people, and by Zar himself to help him transition to a new home. And I was able to play a part in fulfilling a wish for an old friend. For a person seeking purpose, it doesn’t get much better than that.

It's a good reminder not to overthink whether or not we are fulfilling our purpose in life. Sometimes it’s the synchronicities that allow us to have the biggest impact with very little effort when we trust the universe and our own humanity. Sincere thanks to a woman named Faith, and a sweet, resilient dog named Zar for teaching me that lesson.

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