The Happy Lobster and the Unhappy Pig

Amidst the cab and bus rides around Puerto Vallarta, we did what we always do when we're tourists. We talked to locals. Between their English and our Spanish, we generally figured it out. Smiles and looking someone in the eyes—simple, common courtesies—make those experiences all the more joyful. Folks are always happy to share their thoughts. 

We'd ask how long they've lived there, about their work, and always about their families. We also sought the local opinion with one specific question. 

"When you go out to eat seafood, where do you go?"

Some would say in Spanish, "La Langosta Feliz." Others in English, "The Happy Lobster."

I'm thinking, "I wanna go there just because of the name." Yet it was the rapidity of their answers that convinced me. Without hesitation they'd name this restaurant. We saved the experience to our final night in Puerto Vallarta. Did you notice I used the word, "experience"? Read on for the tale of La Langosta Feliz y el Puerco Triste—the Happy Lobster and the Unhappy Pig.

Being a restaurant recommended by locals, we'd hoped it wasn't as touristy. More authentic. We'd heard that it was a short distance off the main road that encircles the bay. As we turned inland away from the bay we were leaving the tourist part of Puerto Vallarta behind. The surroundings looked more like a third world country than a tourist mecca. This is good. We'd like our kids to have a broader view of the world and a greater appreciation for our blessings.

From the main road leading off the bay a few kilometers, we turned into a neighborhood. The streets are narrow. No sidewalks. Walls and gates abound. Behind each set, a plastered home in some sort of disrepair loomed. Then we slowed atop a hill to look left and see a giant lobster. "La Langosta Feliz," I said pointing as our driver nodded and smiled.

Arriving at the restaurant we were greeted and seated on the shaded rooftop dining area. Service was quick and courteous. As we were waiting to order under the shade of the open air canopy, I began to hear something over the din of the crowd, "Meeeeeeeeeeee. Meeeeeeeeeeee. Meeeeeeeeeeee. Meeeee." My first thought was, "Who is flying a remote control plan around here? Is their a noisy drone about?!" Then, the pitch changed up and down and somewhere in between. I recognized the noise.

"Mary Elizabeth," I said catching her glance, "Come here and look over this wall with me." The twinkle in my eye had told her this must be something fun. She joined me with a question in her own eyes. Looking over the partial wall there he was in the "yard" below: A black pig. An unhappy pig. Of course, we called the boys over and marveled at the squealing pig below. "Meeeeeeeee. Meeee." Silly tourists, right? But what fun! Who eats at a rooftop restaurant with an unhappy pig right over the wall?! We do. Well, we did.

Throughout our meal the pig continued to squeal. (Say that five times real fast.) Then, silence. The kids would rush to look over the wall. First, he was being fed. No time to squeal when eating. A few minutes later silence again as he was being bathed—well, hosed off. Otherwise it was, "Meeeeeeeeee. Meeee. Meeeeeeee," throughout our entire meal.

We went to eat at The Happy Lobster and we enjoyed to entertainment of the unhappy pig. What's the point of the porcine tale? (See what I did there?)

Other than being funny, I wondered that too until yesterday when an animal loving friend shared a perspective I'd missed. The pig was only happy and quiet not when he had his food or a shower, but when he had his owner with him outside. He was lonely. The unhappy pig she conjectured was really a lonely pig.

And, just like humans in need of companionship, he acted out—incessant, unhappy "Meeeeeeeee" squealing in his case—until his need was satisfied.

Pigs and people—God created us for relationships. We were made to be social. I'm ever thankful for my family and friends. What amazing, grace gifts they are to me. Yet, the Bible says, "there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother" (Proverbs 18:24b). Jesus. His name is Jesus.

Next time you find yourself squealing like the unhappy pig, remember the tale of La Langosta Feliz y el Puerco Triste. Remember, and call on Jesus.

And, thanks to Mary Elizabeth, let me share the real deal. Friends, may I introduce you to the unhappy pig...

Thank you as always for spending a few minutes with me, Friends. Please share this post and, if you haven't already, subscribe.

One more thing before you go, What should we name the unhappy pig? Let us know in the comments below. 

Being There for the Parents of a Heavenborn Child

Trusting the eternal promises of God’s Word, the Bible, assures our hearts and minds. But there is still so much processing of pain and healing of heart to occur.

What our world calls stillborn, we call heavenborn. There is hope in that word: heavenborn. Yet that hope is just a small part of the support we need. We need loving folks to walk through that dark valley with us. How can we do that?

Be open. Unless you have been through stillbirth, it is hard to imagine how you will feel. The type of emotions do not matter—whether anger or sadness, fear or faith—the honest expression of those emotions does matter. When we name our feelings for what they are, we are one step closer to handling them when we can. Everyone will process differently. However, God created us for relationships, with Him and others, that we might process together. Give yourself, and others, permission to be honest.

Be present. You may not know what to say. Be honest about that. You do not need to know what to say. You do need to be there. Even if silent. Even if crying and praying privately, but saying little out loud. You can be Christ incarnate for the broken family. While you are present, be sure to ask the grieving parents what they want. Don’t assume. Take your cues from them as to what to say or do. Talk and listen at their pace. Be there. Presence is powerful.

Be discerning. Grief is uncomfortable. Many times when you want to make a grieving person feel better you say things that should be avoided. Unwise examples include: “God needed your baby more than you;” “It just wasn’t meant to be;” “God knows best;” “You must have sinned and are being judged.” Not only are comments like this hurtful, they are unbiblical or even sinful. If you do not know what to say, then say so. 

Be thoughtful. Parents have suffered an insufferable tragedy. They won’t forget. Be sure you don’t either. Every parent is different in their level and style of expressing emotion. Knowing that, find the best way to continue to bring up the baby and grieving in the months and years ahead. Don’t go on like the baby never lived. Acknowledge the child’s life as often as possible. Assist the parents along the way to healing. Pain can’t be buried, it must be processed. Keep talking.

Be available. Find an emotionally safe way to be together and talk. Talk about the hopes, dreams, and experiences of pregnancy. Talk about grief, remembering, and healing in loss. An event like Evan’s First Heavenborn Birthday Party does that. When you recognize tragedy, you can work toward healing. When you marginalize it, you get stuck in sorrow. Provide people the emotional space to connect and express themselves.

Be inquisitive. Whether heavenborn due to known or unknown medical reason, we are destined to ask, “why?” Why is not a bad question. It is not wrong to ask why. We should ask why. God is big enough for any why we ask. He will answer. Yet His answer may not come as we’d like. Somewhere along the grieving process, however, we need to change questions to, “what?” Trusting God, we should ask, “What would you have me learn through this?”

Be supportive. Parents of a heavenborn need supportive people to walk through the valley with them. If you are family or friend, then you can be that support. You don’t need special training. Pray. Ask God for help. Read your Bible. Find God’s words. Follow the lead of the Holy Spirit. Go at the pace of the parents. Move ahead toward healing together.

Postscript. This post is intended to be an informative, how-to complement to the related post, Heavenborn, that explains the genesis of the word heavenborn while recounting the gifts of Evan and his amazing parents, Liz and James. Heavenborn appears just above this post in my blog order.

Share the Healing. Please share your comments & share this post freely.

The Wonder Of It

Twenty years ago—man, that makes me sound old—I served as a Journeyman Missionary with what was then the Foreign Mission Board and is now imbConnecting outside Johannesburg, South Africa. I worked in Soweto near daily doing relief work, church planting, theological education, and my primary role as a regional youth worker assisting our Baptist churches around Joburg.

At my first youth rallies I met Aaron Maselwane (pictured here). Yes, the name helped, but there it more to it. Gregarious, talented, intelligent and articulate, Aaron is a leader by nature. Just over ten years ago he came to the states in a singing group. My family had the pleasure of hosting him then. And since the explosion of Facebook we've reconnected therein. Enduring friendships with brothers in Christ bring such joy.

When I needed to recall the lyrics of South African Gospel song for a writing project this week, I thought, "I'll message Aaron."

Yesterday afternoon he wrote back. I noticed he was online right then and wrote, "Hey, you're online now!" He shot back, "Yes I am. We could even Skype for posterity of the music." So we did.

Within minutes we were connected on Skype. Face-to-face, over two decades since first meeting, over 9000 miles, over seven time zones. What a joy not only to hear my friend but to see him as well! (And for free. Thank you, Skype.)

Aaron and I both observed the wonder of it. All the time and space between us and here we were. He on his desktop PC outside Joburg. Me on my MacBook Pro in Nebraska. We talked about life, work, friends, and family. We squeezed a lot in until we lost connection. He had warned that might happen on his end. It was a joy! And throughout it it we expressed the wonder of it.

The wonder of technology. The wonder of friendship. The wonder of unity in Christ. The wonder of it all.

It got me to thinking. We both needed computers and high speed internet to have that conversation and it worked best when we were both awake given the time difference. Yet I can pray anytime, anywhere, about anything. No special equipment. No time difference. No concern for losing the connection on the other end. Our God is faithful. He calls us to pray. Make the connection. Live in the wonder of it.

And, by the way, the reason I couldn't remember the verses to that song: There are none. Maybe I'm not so old after all...