Testimony on Fauna Sunday | Brooks Fowler

Second Sunday in the Season of CreationSunday, September 18thThis testimony was offered in worship by St. Luke's member Brooks Fowler as part of a four week testimony series during the Season of Creation. as a dog groomer, i hate puppies. for them, grooming is scary + new + confusing, and they don’t conform to my all-too-human expectations of perfection. they wiggle on and off the table, bite at the dryer, and cover arms and hands in scratches. often they leave the salon only slightly neater and fluffier than when they came in. unlike dogs that are used to the grooming routine, puppies turn out messier – a good groom on a puppy looks vastly different than on a retired show dog. i’ll be the first to admit i hold high expectations for those around me, and especially for myself - expectations of my emotional state, how my life should look, how put-together i am. i can’t do that with new puppies, or cats, or the dogs that lash out while being groomed – i need to meet them where they are, recognizing each as an individual with history, and too often my own impatience is reflected back at me through their behavior. animals are more in tune with our emotions than we are – they can tell if you’re scared of them, if you are checked out for the day, or if you’re frustrated.they meet us where we are. on nights that my depression makes it nearly impossible to fall asleep, greyson, one of my cats, decides that laying on my chest, purring directly over my heart, is more important than racing back and forth across the apartment like most nights. when i’m scattered and falling behind on housekeeping, it’s gizmo’s nightly brushing that realigns my routine. on days that i feel spiritually disconnected, the clearest way i see god is the unconditional love in my dog ari’s eyes when she sits next to me, her little underbite jutting out. animals let us display a radical vulnerability, in that they don’t ask us to be anything else than who we are in the moment – giving us space to lower our walls of defenses and be present.for me, ethical care means meeting animals where they are – showing them, to the best of my ability, the same grace, love, and compassion they give to me, even at my most human moments – moments of quick tempers and of unrealistic expectations. working with animals is slowly engraining this into my habits. i’ve been able to hold more compassionate spaces for those around me, for puppies, for strangers on the street, for close friends. it’s also practice to extend that grace to myself - to discard expectations in favor of accepting where i’m at. holding mutual spaces of vulnerability and care feels like an aspect of god’s existence on earth, and a type of daily practice. in those tender moments between creations i’m reminded that where i am is valid – it might be scary + new + confusing, but it’s okay.