Charlie pup became a part of our family three years ago. I learned pretty quickly how inept I was at being a dog owner when, after twenty minutes passed, I lost him. Yup. That’s right. It was a rookie mistake. Only a novice could have pulled this one off. Here’s how to lose a dog in the first 20 minutes of ownership: Set the dog down outside by the woods. {Yup, the one that just met you a hot minute ago}. Turn your back on him as you reach for his new comfy crate {a.k.a. prison}. And then stare in bewilderment. What? He’s gone? How could that have happened? Oh, wait. Is that him hightailing it into the woods? {The kind of woods that have trees. And bushes. And small spaces where fast, small dogs can hide}. You can probably imagine the chaos that ensued {and the trauma}—for the poor dog now engaged in a high speed chase with a crazy {and very strange} new woman. The picture looked something like this: arms flailing, hair flapping, voice screeching. It took about twenty minutes {and lots of tears, pleading, and sprinting through thornbushes}, but I finally caught him. He was terrified. Shaking. Scared out of his {tiny, pea-sized} mind.
It’s been three years. His brother, Brody lives with us now too. Brody has been with us for about 2 years. {Side note: He has not been lost yet}. How do I say this in love? {Sweet} little Brody is one card short of a full deck. It takes him a little longer to get things. {Okay, sometimes he never gets them}. He still likes to eat tissue. He still bangs his head on the floor every time he sneezes. He still chases flies and he still has {close} encounters {of the third kind} with our doorstops.
So what just happened thirty minutes ago is sort of cool. {And that’s why I’m telling you about it}. We had community group tonight and since the weather was so spectacular, decided to park it outside for the night. As a result, I unhinged the side gate in our yard so people could come and go as they pleased. Great night. Eventually everybody leaves. The rookie {yours truly} forgets to shut the gate. So about thirty minutes ago, {it’s pitch black outside}, I let the boys out. They do their business {why do we use that expression?} and I {as a well-trained human} walk over to clean up after them {very much taking my time}. But as I turn around, I realize something’s wrong. They’re not waiting by the bottom of the stairs like they always do. And then it hits me. THE GATE!
Now, I understand that some of you may have {or have heard the legend of} dogs that stay in the yard or that come when called. But my dogs march to the beat of a different drum. It’s called the “This is the last helicopter out of Vietnam” drum and the beat goes a little something like this: “RUN, RUN, RUN, RUN, RUUUUUUUUN!!!” So I sprint over to the gate and {as calmly as I can} yell, “C’mon!”
And they came…
Both of them…
Immediately.
Huh? What? Relief. But also total confusion. Are these my dogs? Did they really just come when I called them? Like, right away? As opposed to being 14.5 blocks from home by now about to hit up the local pubs? I mean, really? I was dumbfounded. But it was super cool. I couldn’t “Good boy” them enough. I wanted to kill a fattened calf and give them the femur in celebration. Wowzers.
And then I thought about it. I thought about Charlie taking off three years ago. I thought about the sound of my voice causing more fear {and hurting my cause more than helping it} as I yelled after him. And I thought about the relationship I have now with my dogs. They know me. They know that I love them. They trust me. They are loyal to me. They want to stay close to me. And so they came when I called them. This is their home and they like it here. {Let’s not get any high hopes of this happening again—the gate is now triple staple gunned shut}.
But I just started thinking about my relationship with Jesus. When I didn’t know His voice {and more importantly, when I didn’t know Him}, I ran. Into rebellion. Far away. I did my own thing. My way. Looked out for number one. Hid. But now I know His voice. Because I’ve been graced to meet Him and know Him. I love Him. He is good. He is the good shepherd. By grace I can follow Him. Be where He is. Obey Him. Trust Him. Walk behind Him. Look to Him. Hearing His voice brings me comfort, and when He calls, I’m much more quick to respond. The green grass beyond the fence used to be a draw to me because it promised fulfillment, happiness, identity, security, comfort, and FUN. But when you know the voice of Jesus you detect the snare and the lies in the counterfeit promises that whisper from beyond. And you stay. True fulfillment. True joy. True identity. True security. True comfort. And a delight in serving the King of Kings and seeing Him love, redeem, and grace your life and the life of those around you. Now, THAT’s fun!
I don’t know. It struck me tonight.
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”
(John 10:27)Do you know His voice?
I love this. We opened our home to a little rescue dog one year ago. The first time we took him for a walk, he immediately turned into the driveway when we got back home. My husband said, “He knows he’s home again.”
A few months later, I stepped out on the front deck and the little rescue bolted out the door behind me, down the steps and into the street. I screamed and chased after him. One year later, I step out on the deck and hold the door open for him and he simply turns around and lays down on the rug inside the house. He knows he’s home, he has no desire to bolt anywhere anymore. He knows we love him.
Isn’t that cool, Shelly? I seriously have learned so much from my dogs. Their loyalty speaks volumes to me. What if I was that loyal to my Father…even when I didn’t understand what we were doing or where we were going? I’d just be content to be by His side and trust that He would take care of me.