A Lesson From My Dog

My dog Ransom freaks out whenever we pass a storm drain. The storm drains line almost every street we walk. Sometimes, they sneak by because Ransom's deterred by a squirrel or a scent. But when she keys in on a storm drain, no matter where we stand (my favorite is when we're crossing a busy intersection), she will dig her paws into the pavement, buckle down, and pull away from the drain.

We rescued Ransom one year ago this month. I'll never know what she experienced, but my heart hurts thinking of her wandering around White Rock Lake, foraging for food, abused by past owners and given up to the street.

It took a while to pinpoint the source of her fear - was it a bush, or boulders? Uncut grass? Me? It took even longer for me to respond appropriately to Ransom's fear. So many times, I tugged at her in frustration, and yelled "come on!" to scare her out of her...fear - partly because we were about to become road-kill, and partly because I cared more about getting out of the street than about what put us there.

There are so many stormy places in my heart: places where I have been disappointed or betrayed by a loved one; places that bring a groundswell of instant pain and fear. I can't say that I always respond logically and spiritually every time I'm tested by those familiar storms. My Father cares about those places and wishes to take me through in order to bring calm. And the Savior walks with me, and provides friends to walk alongside so I am not overcome.

Think of Mark 2:1-12: a man is in such need of body and soul care that his friends rip up a roof and lower him down into the presence of Jesus. How does Jesus respond? "When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."" And He heals him, body and soul. And before the healing, the friends carry the paralytic. They are undeterred by the closed door. They heft him to the roof. They cake their hands with dirt to get to the Healer.

It takes time, love, burden-bearing, and prayer, to bring a loved one out of their pain and encourage them into the healing presence of God. (And if they're anything like me, they will need reminders. Often.) So many times, pithy advice and half-listening leads to further injury. Praise God for a real friend.

Yesterday, Ransom and I went for a walk. She saw storm drains on both sides of the street. She hunkered down. No cars in sight, thankfully.
I bent down and looked into her plaintive eyes, and whispered, "it's okay. You can do it, girl. You can do it."

I almost cried watching her hunker, then walk a little and wag her tail, then hunker, then walk faster, tail whooshing madly, till she crossed right in between those drains.