A Boy and His Dog

Once upon a time there was a boy.  A rather special boy.  And this rather special boy had a rather special friend.  And because of that rather special friend, he learned what it means to lose what you love, but to keep on loving because the relationship earned is worth it all. For you see, their story goes as most young boy/dog stories go-they were the best of friends.

From the first day Tucker arrived on the Shilling farm, the oldest child fell in love with him.  He would pet him and try to play fetch with him and take him on walks and look after him in every way a 6-year-old heart knows how.

There was this one time the family went for a walk, and as they were coming back towards home, Tucker decided to run with all his heart across the wide-open field.  Now the little boy Nate tried best as he could to keep up as he held tightly to the leash, but the sprightly lab was too much for him, sending Nate crashing into the beanstalks as Tucker finally freed his leash from Nate’s grasp, freeing him to run full force into the big world ahead.

Though some little boys would fear ever again trying to hold on to such a free-spirited companion, Nate loved nothing more than to take Tucker for a walk.  Again, the family was on an outing, this time to some headwater in the creek bottoms just down from their house.  So as the children played and splashed and got wonderfully muddy, the mom took special care of the dog who was just itching to get in on the fun.  Soon Nate takes hold of the leash and all is well for a bit. 

Something suddenly snapped in that dog’s mind and he spun and took off as fast as he could toward the other end of the water to the great unknown of the road that lay beyond.  And again, Nate held tight as he could and tried his best to keep up, but to no avail.  And all I remember seeing was a very large dog dragging a very loving boy through rocks and mud until finally Nate could hold on no longer.

So as I was wading the water as fast as I possibly could to the safety of my hysterical son, I realized he was most terrified that Tucker would get away and be gone for good.  Though he was badly banged up,  the pain of losing his dog far outweighed the beating his body had endured.   So he managed to get up and follow me and his siblings as we chased the dog down, until finally daddy came to the rescue in the truck, retrieving canine, children, and rather frazzled wife.

Fast-forward numerous months.  Nate has become the primary caregiver for Tucker, letting him loose, putting him back in his pen, playing with him for countless hours, imagining they will grow up together for years to come in this big wide world. 

The morning is as any other morning.  As Nate goes out to feed his chickens, he first lets Tucker loose.  All is well, even as Nate and his sister get on the bus for another week of school.  I go back into the house and begin some morning chores, eventually making my way into his sister’s room to start my first big job for the day, sorting out winter clothes and bringing in the spring.  Caleb comes, rather calmly into the room and states that someone has run over something and he thinks our dog is lying in the middle of the road. 

Caleb is known for grandiose stories, so I immediately question him as I walk to the front room, only to look out on the road to see Tucker indeed lying still in the gravel.  About that time I see my husband coming toward the house.  Not knowing that our friend, who was unfortunate enough to be the one that Tucker ran out in front of, had went to get Daniel, I start flagging Daniel to slow down because I fear he is on an errand and won’t see Tucker and will hit him again. 

Questioning Caleb later, he tells me at first he thought there was a lamb lying in the road for some reason until he figured out maybe it was our dog.  And Tucker had been eating scraps in the front ditch when he heard our friend’s truck coming and jumped up to chase it. 

Daniel decided to wait to bury him until Nate had a chance to see him one last time.  So I went out and petted my good ole boy and wept for the loss, not just that I felt, but that I knew would pound floods of grief upon my little boy.

All day I kept busy until it was finally close to time for the kids to get home on the bus.  I waited on the front porch to break the news.  Nate was shocked, in disbelief at first.  As I explained what happened, he immediately went to the side of the porch to look for Tucker’s pen, hoping beyond all hope I was joking and he’d find his best friend there as usual, waiting for Nate to let him out so they could play together forever.

And then it hit.  The tears could not be dammed anymore.  And as the grief of the boy’s heart overflowed, I held him tightly in my arms knowing this was really just the beginning.  Just the beginning of more heartache and loss and suffering that we must all endure in this world.  Not because God enjoys punishment, but because He wants us, me and you and this little boy’s heart, more than anything, and he’ll go to great lengths to bring us home. 

Just like when Nate was so tearful that Tucker would be gone for good, even after Tucker had drug him through the muck and the mire.  Our God too is so tearful that we might be gone for good, even after we’ve drug his name through the muck and the mire.  But he loves us, even more than the little boy loves his dog.  And he watches us too as we run full speed away, hoping beyond all hopes that we might stop, and turn around, and come back home.

I took Nate out to pet Tucker one last time and tell him goodbye.  Then I held his hand as we walked back to the house.  I let him go to his room for a while, to have some time to himself.  When I checked on him, I found him snuggled on his bed with a stuffed animal still crying. 

Fortunately, children are resilient.  Eventually he came out to do his homework, and even went outside to play.  But while we buried Tucker, he sat on his swing and watched from a distance, knowing his friend was gone for good.

The good news is that though Nate and Tucker remind me a lot of our Father who watches over us and wants nothing more than to do life together, they are not the same.  Nate will never see Tucker again.  He will never play fetch with Tucker again.  Tucker is dead, and that is his end.  We on the other hand do not have to end when death comes a knockin’.  If we choose wisely, we will play together forever with our Master.

I told Nate that God understands our hurts, and that if he would just reach out to God and ask him for comfort, God could help him through this.  And as I went to check on Nate just a bit ago, he is peacefully sleeping, and I know God will be his strength, so all is well, or at least as well as it gets in this troubled world.  Nate will be sad for quite some time, and this will be forever implanted into his story of life, but he will grow stronger for the loss, for in our weakness, Christ is made strong.

Because once upon a time there was a boy.  A rather special boy.  And this rather special boy had a rather special father.  And because of that rather special father, he knew what it means to lose what you love, but to keep on loving because the relationship earned is worth it all.  And so this mom is praying harder than ever that her rather special boy will come to personally know this rather special boy, so we can ALL play together forever in our Father’s House someday.

Blah

All three are tucked snuggly into bed, cuddled with warm, fuzzy blankets and favorite animal friends.  All is settled in for the night, all except me.

It’s been this way for days now.  I just can’t quite settle into anything.  I fill my days with tasks that need done, but no day leaves me feeling satisfied with the work accomplished.  It’s like I’m forgetting to do something very important and I spend all day taxing my brain trying to remember what I should be rushing to get to.  And it’s quite unnerving.

I’m slipping back into unemotional days.  Days where I’m going through the motions but nothing excites me, nothing sparks my passion, nothing.  And I’m responsible enough to at least keep going moving, but my heart knows all is not as it should be.  There’s something more waiting, perhaps.  Or perhaps it’s right beneath my nose and I just can’t see it, or feel it, or grasp it.  Or perhaps I am ignoring it. . .

I took a bike ride today.  I thought it might help.  I went around our country block, which means I rode a couple miles on gravel roads.  And yes it felt good to get some fresh air and exercise.  But still no real awakening.

So now I’m writing.  Will this perhaps stir in my soul some new spark?  Doubtful.  All it’s really serving is a hard-core appetite for sleep.  I am feeling rather tired.

Tired of the current ebbs and flows.  Tired of ministries that seem pointless because nothing seems to work.  Tired of mediocre days filled with normal business.  Even normal appointments with God have become just that-normal. 

But deep inside I want to fly.  I want to dream big and explode brilliantly.  I want to write the words that speak a thousand miles to kindle deadened, cold hearts, including mine.  I want to serve Him.  And not just an obligatory service, but a passionate outpouring that begins so deep that as it wells further to my surface, I cannot begin to explain it or contain it.

But for now, I’m still tired.  I think I’ll take a shower and go to bed.  Maybe tomorrow’s motions will lead to a stirring within.  But if not, there’s always another day, right?

I wrote this post the other day.  The next day, here was my morning devotion:

"God's desire for you is that you be emotionally stable, consistent, reliable, and even in your temperament.  He desires for your physical needs to be satisfied.  He desires for your spiritual life to be balanced and growing.  His will is never for one of His children to be on an emotional, physical, or spiritual roller coaster of extreme highs and lows.  Rather, He desires that you be in balance and that you be able to confront both positive and negative situations with a consistency of joy, love, and peace."  -Charles Stanley

God's timing.  I love it, though sometimes I am tempted to scowl upon it.  He tells me exactly what I need exactly when I need it.  And that is one of the many reasons I love Him.  He's good to my heart, bringing joy, love, and peace, even when I try to pass the current day off as only a passageway to another normal, not-good-for-much, mediocre day.  For God reminds me in that moment that He is anything BUT mediocre.

Reminiscent

My high school sweetheart’s mom died yesterday.  Cancer.  I knew early on when she was diagnosed, but thought it best to keep my distance, especially since he’s been back in town for years and I might run into him if I stopped by to see her.

It’s awkward.  He was my first love.  I was convinced we’d marry.  His mom believed the same.  Even years after I married Daniel, his dad told my dad they thought maybe Doug screwed up by letting me go.

Letting go.  Most days, it is natural, comfortable, to move about in my current surroundings and doings and relationships.  But some days, days like today, it feels sluggish.  Like my heart is certainly still in-tune with Daniel’s and all this journey together has enabled, but there’s static on the line.  Historical stories of my life that keep fuzzing in and out, reminding me of the big dreams and the summer nights under the stars , driving dirt roads in his souped-up truck or working on his relic chevy.  We thought we had the world by the tail.  But he couldn’t help himself around other girls and I couldn’t settle for a self-centered love that dismissed Jesus as another good story in the pages of history.

His mom hunted me down one day in PE after we broke up the first time, asking me to give him another chance, because he couldn’t stop comparing his new girlfriends to me.  And so we gave it another try.  But college called me away, largely because partying was beckoning him. 

I was a train-wreck for two years trying to get over him.  Until I finally got away.  A sabbatical if you will,  a semester abroad.  And God moved in when I moved away.  For you see it wasn’t until I fell in love with God that I could really give my heart away wholly.  I didn’t realize it till months later, but as I flew over the big pond, I was dumping gallons of past mistakes into the deep blue ocean.  And while I was piling the waters high with the litter of my shallow dreams and selfish ambitions, I was also allowing it to cleanse me for a new beginning, centered around my big God who had bigger dreams in store.

A new beginning with the man God intended for me.  Daniel.  He’s much more than I ever dreamed for.  God knew what he was up to.  Go figure.  And I love Daniel more fully and more deeply than I ever thought possible.  He completes me and makes me into a better person every day I remain in him as his friend, his lover, his wife, his life-long companion.

Though Daniel has replaced Doug’s spot in my heart, there’s still a scar I cannot erase, a tattoo of sorts with the initials DEH.  And on days like today, I no longer love Doug, but I do wish him well, hoping he can find the peace only Jesus can offer when we lose our very dear loved ones.  So this is why there’s static on my line today.  A slight buzzing of prayer for the boy I first gave my heart to, hoping in his life today he can give his heart away as well, to the only One worthy of all we have.

Hearts of Generosity

My children came in from playing outside Saturday with a rather large handful of 'Easter flowers'.  They asked if they could take them to church the next day and sell them to raise money for Sharlyn, their cousins' grandma who was recently diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.  As Daniel and I conversed the next morning about this proposition, the family concluded to take our extra 6 dozen fresh farm eggs to church instead to sell.
We arrive at church and it is busy as usual.  We make a few announcements so people will know why our children will be standing at a table in the main foyer after services with egg cartons.  As church is wrapping up, my husband leaves to go get our children and the table and eggs.  I leave just right ahead of everyone to go assist.
I cannot begin to explain how my heart swelled with joy as I turned the corner to the foyer and saw the four people I love most in this life standing behind the table with hearts as big as gold, hoping to do anything they possibly could for a dying soul.
They get it, at least for now.  In this moment, they understand how precious life is and how important it is in God's kingdom to do for the least of these.  And my heart cries with sorrow because I know what life will bring.  I know the years of trials and tribulations will dull these soft, giving hearts.  But I also know that the God who sees all and knows all can mold our hearts daily back to the way we were when our bodies were little, but our hearts were big.