Peace In Predictability

“I am who I am” (Exodus 3:14)
I’ve learned quite a bit from having dogs in my life whether they were strays at the shelter, other’s pets, or my own.  One of the qualities I most embrace is their openness and ease with who they are; there is never any pretense with a dog. There is no hidden agenda or sly smiles; just reality staring you, sniffing you, licking you, right in the face. 
“For I the Lord do not change;” (Malachi 2:3).  We often talk about the need for stability in our lives. We long for friends we can rely on; ones that will be who they say they are which is one of the reasons I think we are so drawn to dogs.  We desperately seek some semblance of assurance but the Bible warns us that anything we seek in this world to supply that stability will one day be gone.  
“Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, 
and the heavens are the work of your hands.
They will perish, but you will remain; 
they will all wear out like a garment.
You will change them like a robe, and 
they will pass away,
but you are the same, and your years
have no end.”  (Ps. 102: 26,27)
When it comes to my dog, Deion, there’s is one thing I can always count on.  If he sees a squirrel, I will cease to exist.  And it never fails, the later I am for something, the more squirrels in the backyard to garner Deion’s attention.  My neighbor’s often witness me trying to wrangle my dog in with pleas and chunks of chicken as Deion races around me with steadfast focus on his agenda, not mine.  I love to imagine a world where Deion suddenly stops in his tracks and thinks to himself, “This behavior is pointless, she’s right.  I’ll never catch the squirrel so I should just change this crazy notion and become exactly who she wants me to be to make her life easier.”  But he can’t.  It’s not in his nature. If Deion is going to go after a squirrel, he’s going to do it in my backyard as quickly as he would if he were standing center ring at Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.  It’s who he is, the nature of his being.  He doesn’t change depending the circumstances or who is watching.  He’ll openly humble me and my feeble attempts at flexing my dog training muscle no matter who is present.  

Sadly, even our old predictable dogs don’t live forever.  Life in this world is full of changes, good and bad.  Yet, thankfully, “Jesus is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Heb. 13:8).  God’s nature of gentle compassion, majesty, goodness, patience with his wayward children--that would be us--final judgement on all, divine mercy, and abundant grace that he showers upon those who believe, will never change.  He can’t help but be who he is.  The one constant in which we can put all our hope.  The God who created the small black squirrel who teasingly darts from tree to tree just outside our fence line is the same God who created my crazy, mixed-up Doberman who will bark and run a rut through the back of the yard in a rage of frustration.  As always, the squirrel will cackle in that mocking sound that resembles laughter and I smile at the predictability of it all.  I can’t help but think that God gets a kick out of it too.

A Hard Lesson

“In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith--more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire--may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 1:6,7)
A quick internet search reveals page after page of articles and videos detailing brave dogs who moved in quickly and selflessly to save their owner from a train, a fire, a bear, a cougar, even suicide.  Their stories are an amazing testimony to the bond between a dog and their human companions.  And then there’s my story.
Trying to burn off the excess energy of a four year-old Doberman is a full-time job and after countless daily walks around the same old streets, I thought that I would try something new.  I decided to bike around the neighborhood while Deion, my Dobe, trotted along side on his leash.  As I held the leash in one hand and steered my bike with the other, we glided effortlessly around the block.  Deion seemed to enjoy the quicker pace and I was delighted that I could easily keep up with him.  As I proudly hummed along, marveling at my ingenious solution to Deion’s need of constant movement, I had foolishly failed to remember another of Deion’s persistent desires.  The desire to rid the entire neighborhood of the pesky, ever-present squirrel population.  It’s not only a need for Deion but an instinctual passion to chase any small, furry rodent of which he happens to catch sight.  Today was no exception.  As I obliviously peddled along enjoying the warm breeze and pleasant sunshine, I suddenly found myself jerked off my proud pedestal and planted face down on the cold, hard concrete.  Lying wedged between the street and my bike, I slowly took stock of each limb, making sure it was still in working condition.  Once it was established that yes, I could stand up and make my way back home, I realized that my faithful dog companion for whom this whole biking experience was created was not fearlessly trying to lift the bike from my crumpled and bruised body.  He was not pulling my cell phone out of my pocket to dial 911 or summoning Timmy to come to my rescue.  No, he was obliviously barking and racing around a tree after a small black squirrel.  
There were a few thoughts that came into my mind as I slowly picked myself and my bike up off the ground.  One was that maybe Deion didn’t love me as much as I thought he did.  Maybe our relationship wasn’t as strong as some dog-human bonds.  I thought that if I’d really been hurt, could I have laid there for hours without Deion even being aware that I was no longer holding on to his leash?  And now, with scraped knees and a wounded pride, I had to chase and gain control of this dog that couldn’t have cared one iota if I lived or died.  The whole incident hurt me in more ways than one.
Resentfully, I snatched Deion’s leash and wobbled home with Deion once again at my side.  He walked gingerly and occasionally, glanced up at me.  “Oh, now you notice I’m here.” I said, sarcastically.  He seemed to feel, with that mysteriously perceptive canine insight that things weren’t right between us and for the rest of the afternoon, he stayed by my side and rested his head on my lap whenever I was seated.  I realized that Deion did indeed love me and that his lapse in judgement wasn’t indicative of the state of our relationship but just an instinctual drive that he could not control.  I felt assured that if our house ever caught on fire, Deion would indeed save our family.  Unless, of course, a squirrel got there first.
It wasn’t until years later, following another circumstance in which I felt forgotten about and neglected that I reflected on the similarity between the bicycle incident and the one I was currently battling.  I again felt abandoned but this time by God.  I prayed over the circumstance, recited Bible passages in my head but still it was as if I was once again lying in the street pressed between the cement and this crushing burden.  Where was God?  Why wasn’t He paying attention to my desperate prayers and petitions?  Again I wondered as I did in the circumstance with Deion, is it because I’m not loved like I thought I was?  Did I not build my relationship with God enough through daily Bible reading and prayer?  Was I being punished?  What continued to pull me through my circumstance was reflecting on the fact that God is and has always been faithful.  Just as there were countless times in the past when Deion’s warm, gentle presence had lifted my spirit when I was sick or saddened, God has always been there for me.  The fact that He wasn’t seemingly present in the time frame I expected Him to be was not an indication that He didn’t know what I was going through.  
“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. and let steadfastness have it full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4)  There are times when the pain we are going through is a time of strengthening our faith and rebuilding our dependency on God’s grace and mercy.  Never confuse God’s inaction in times of trial as indifference.  As hard as it may be to believe at the time, God is there, He does love us, and is working on us and in us through this trial.  “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.”  (James 1:12)  God is not oblivious to your pain, you simply need to continue to pursue him by prayer and petition.  He will be with you and walk by your side all the way home.

A Humble Birth

Even in our ever-increasingly secular world, the connection between Christ and Christmas is acknowledged, if not entirely accepted by a vast majority of people.  The virgin birth, a bright star, gold, frankincense, and myrrh can, thankfully, still be heard intermingled among the carols of Santa Claus, animated snow men and silver bells.    Perhaps one of the most iconic images of the season is a tiny babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.   The nativity scene is a moving juxtaposition of humility and majesty.  It was a birth in surroundings inconceivable to women today.  No sterile white bed sheets, no medical staff assistance, definitely no epidural.  Just two scared and awestruck new parents, a baby in a feeding trough and a barn full of animals.  

Yet, this wasn’t just any birth and this baby just wasn’t any baby.  This was God himself; the creator of the universe, and where did he choose to come into the world?  In a stable.  What sounds did he, the maker of booming thunder and crashing waves, first chose to hear among the gentle words of his mother and father?  He chose the rustling of straw, the hooves of cattle and sheep as they trod on the hardened soil, the murmur of cattle and sheep, oxen and mules.  The Lamb of God entered this world surrounded by animals.   

Not only that but Jesus’ first birth announcement wasn’t sent to the town square or delivered in the presence of kings and rulers but it was received out in a remote field by simple shepherds watching over their sheep.  As the shepherds trembled “with great fear” (Luke 2:9), the sheep stood silent, their fleece glowing in “the glory of the Lord as it shone all around them”, quietly at peace knowing the great Shepherd of all mankind had just humbly made his appearance on this earth.   

Enter into an artist’s studio and you won’t find a room of empty white walls but you’ll find yourself surrounded by canvases created by the artist himself.   God, from the very beginning, found joy in the presence of His creation.  “And God made the beasts of the earth...and the livestock...and everything that creeps on the ground.....And God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1:25) Jesus wasn’t born simply into a stable but into the Artist’s studio.  As you celebrate this Christmas season, take time to ponder on the humility of God’s entrance into this world.  Look around your home at the animals you choose to share your life with and ask yourself, why is it that we live in pristine homes filled with every human luxury, yet so many of us feel more joy by having animals live among us? Look out the window and take in his creation and let it speak to you.  It is the very language of God.

“But now ask the beasts, and let them teach you;

And the birds of the heavens, and let them tell you.

Or speak to the earth, and let it teach you;

And let the fish of the sea declare to you.

Who among all these does not know 

That the hand of the LORD has done this,

In whose hand is the life of every living thing,

And the breath of all mankind?”  (Job 12:7-10)

A Repurposed Life

At six years old, Lilia found herself out of a job.  After faithfully serving as a loyal friend and companion, she soon learned that a big move out of state didn’t include her.  When Jim first met Lilia, she was running out of options.  He had had yellow Labs for 25 years and after his most recent dog passed away, he swore he was done.  He couldn’t go through the pain and loss of another dear companion.  But there was something special about Lilia.  Her crazy puppy days were behind her and she had mellowed a into gentle, sweet-natured soul.  It suddenly appeared to Jim that he had an opening in the family dog department and Lilia was hired.

The timing was providential.  Jim Jimison also found himself out of a job -- voluntarily.  He had recently retired from serving as the Bainbridge Township Police Chief and walked away with pride and a tinge of sadness over leaving the police force he helped to create.  For forty-six years, Jim woke up, put on his crisp blue police uniform, kissed his wife and left his home with a purpose, to serve and protect.  Lilia had lived for six years in her former home with the same purpose, to serve and protect.  Now, here they were, together and they soon discovered that one’s true purpose has nothing to do with a job.  

As Jim neared retirement, he got busy.  He had seen too many former officers hang up their uniform along with their desire to do much of anything else.  No, Jim was going to continue to make a difference.  He began serving on the Kenston School Board and on the Advisory Committee for the Geauga County Department of Aging, he volunteered at the USO and served on the Executive Committee of the Ohio Retired Police Chief Association, he golfed on a league two days a week and now found himself proud owner of a six-year old yellow Lab.  During this time, Jim also went through surgery that required extensive physical therapy.  He spent many hours at the treatment center and witnessed the loneliness of many of the long-term care seniors.  He had heard over the years about the remarkable difference in mental as well as physical well-being that therapy dogs made in the lives of residents at senior living centers and vowed when he was back on his feet, he and Lilia were going to be there for them.  

Lilia had all the makings of the perfect therapy dog.  She was easy-going, friendly with other dogs, people, and children.  The world didn’t faze her.  Jim had noticed that her former owner had taken time to work with her and train her and she was attentive and obedient.  Lilia passed therapy dog training with flying colors.  And recently, both were certified as a therapy dog team through Therapy Dog International.  Both Lilia and Jim had a new purpose.  

In Dr. Rick Warren’s hugely successful book, The Purpose Driven Life, he states, “The purpose of your life is far greater than your own personal fulfillment, your peace of mind, or even your happiness.  It’s far greater than your family, your career, or even your wildest dreams and ambitions.  If you want to know why you were placed on this planet, you must begin with God.  You were born by his purpose and for his purpose.”  His purposes for us are far greater than even we can imagine.  They can sometimes seem overwhelming or scary and it’s easy to see why some choose to not act at all.  When the job is over or the kids have flown the nest, we might think that our purpose is over but in God’s mind, it has only begun.   “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,” plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)  His purposes are always meant for our good.   

Often, as in the case of Jim and Lilia, it is meant for the good of many others as well.  Jim and Lilia light up the lives  of a few local senior centers and they are now about to embark upon training for visitation at a Hospice Center.  God has used Jim’s many years on the police force as a training ground for serving the community in a new way.  And little did Lilia’s former owner know that his years of training Lilia would serve her well just when most dogs are settling into old age.  What we think are purpose is may just be God’s way of preparing us for repurposing towards something entirely different.  Our job is to open our eyes and our minds to whatever that purpose may be.

Obedience Training

I remember watching old clips of the Ed Sullivan show and one of the acts that fascinated me was the man with the spinning plates. Eight to ten poles stood erect before him and on each he would place a single plate. With a gentle wave of his hand, he would start one spinning on top of the pole. He would then place a second plate on another pole and start that one spinning. He’d sweep his hand again over the first plate to continue its rotation and move on to a third. This process would continue until he had every plate successfully spinning. In a graceful dance that, at times, bordered on panic, he’d bounce from one wobbling plate to the next in a desperate attempt to keep all plates twirling in perpetual motion. I watched anxiously as one plate slowed, wobbling precariously on its perch, only to be quickly attended to and sent on its circular way. This sort of gives you a rough idea of what it’s like teaching a puppy obedience class.

The puppies clumsily bound in the door on that first day with their human companions dutifully in tow. Each fuzzy body wags in excitement as the moms and dads desperately try to get their budding prodigies attention. As class begins, I bounce from one frustrated owner to the next, showing them how to capture a puppies fleeting attention span with various bits of hot dog, cheese or a squeaky toy. It works, for a while. About four pups down the line and the first loses it again. After a few minutes, the newness dies down, the human counterparts regain some semblance of control, all plates are spinning and we start the class.

Sit is generally the first behavior taught and to most pups, it’s the “go-to” behavior. They pick it up quickly, usually offering it up at the sound of a opening treat bag without the word “sit” being uttered. Then there are others who bounce around like they’re spring loaded; their tiny butts occasionally grazing the ground but too excited to place it there on a permanent basis. As the weeks progress, the puppies mature and are active participants. They now sit and lie down; wait and stay but only if the reward is worth it. A warm hot dog or bit a cheese and the puppy is like putty in your hand but a stale cheerio or bit of biscuit and you’ve lost them. The world around them is much too interesting and the obedience lesson is often derailed.

I couldn’t help but think about how closely that models my own obedience to God the Father. When I first began my life as a new Christian, I was eager to please. I read my Bible with a voracious appetite. I thought about my actions and whether they were pleasing to God. I sat, I rolled over, I lied down. But as I continued on my Christian walk , I begun to get distracted. Beth Moore, in one of her Bible studies writes, “if the devil can’t make you bad, he’ll make you busy.” How true. In my busy-ness, I’m distracted by things that don’t matter and disobedience creeps in. The Bible gets put aside for an extra workout, I say words and do things without thinking of the consequences. And in turn, the blessings of God drift further away. Joy and peace are replaced with frustration and regret. In Exodus, the Israelites were promised a new land “flowing with milk and honey”. It was there, right in front of them only a few miles away so why did it take another 40 years for them to arrive in Canaan? Disobedience. Questioning God and His plan. Losing trust in the One who had freed them from slavery in Egypt, disregarding the caring Father who provided manna and water when they cried out for sustenance, turning away from the Shield and Rock who rescued them from the hand of their enemies. Their disobedience created distance between themselves and God’s blessings. In God’s wonderful grace, however, the blessing was never taken away. Their arrival in Canaan was simply postponed while they worked through their disobedience. In the same way, a puppy will see the hot dog in your hand, it will hear the instruction to “sit”, it will want that tasty treat but it will jump up and spin around and bark. Chances are, you begin to get frustrated and say the command again and again. You plead, “all you have to do is SIT and you will get this treat, please....just sit!” Sound familiar? The blessing is still there, it’s just waiting for us to simply settle down and sit. Lucky for us, God is patient.

God is pleased when our walk with Him is steady and sure. How proud are we when our dogs are on their best behavior, listening to our every command? We shower them with love and praise for their obedience but it is often short lived. Obedience takes practice. I often remind people as they and their pups say goodbye at the end of their final class, that obtaining solid obedience takes a lifetime of work. They have to continue honing their dogs obedience skills in more challenging environments. The same goes for us. Obedience is easy when we are walking into church on Sunday morning, but we have to practice in more challenging situations. We have to continually know what obedience looks like by studying Scripture and practice it throughout our lives. For instance, trusting God when things appear to be spiraling out of control and remembering His promise, “to never leave (us) or forsake (us).”

What is the ultimate blessing that awaits us when we obediently live our life for Christ? An eternity spent with the One who modeled the ultimate act of obedience. Following His Father’s will that lead him to death on the cross. Jesus laments in Matthew 26:38, ”My soul is very sorrowful, even to death...” His obedience was going to mean intense physical pain, false charges, and the betrayal of even his closest companions. Matthew 26: 39 continues, “And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” Even if the will of his Father meant death on a cross. But Jesus knew that death wasn’t the reward for his obedience but eternal life and not only His, but ours as well. He was willing to accept the suffering and the humiliation for our salvation. Jesus’ exemplified unwavering obedience in life, and in His death was the final sacrifice which wiped away our sins and allowed us access to our Heavenly Father. What a blessing that flowed from that single act of selfless obedience!

Obedience is not easy. From the moment Eve’s teeth sunk into the apple, we humans have been grappling with our choices. In His tender mercy, God does not demand perfection. He lets us tug on the leash, break our stays a few seconds early, and occasionally lie down when we were asked to sit. However, if we continue to look to the cross and remember Jesus’ example of perfect obedience, it can help us to remember the tremendous blessing that His obedience bought for us.

In A Dog's Age

Number 47 on the list of things I admire about dogs--and it’s a lengthy list mind you--they have no qualms with Father Time. You will never hear a dog moan over their bursitis or belly ache about their bunions. They won’t bemoan the way they used to be able to lift a couch up over their heads while they struggle to open a jar of mayo -- light of course, they’re watching their cholesterol. They just don’t seem to give two hoots about growing old. After all, a dog’s average life span is 12.8 years, why waste even .8 of it complaining when you could be sniffing the ground under the kitchen table for a stray Cheerio? God has blessed dogs with an ignorance of age. They seize each new day given to them without concern of failing strengths or gravity’s cruel joke on their appearance.

When I first met Dana, my former neighbor’s aging Golden, I was not prepared for what the hands of time had done to her face. I was told she had some fatty tumors but as Dana rounded the corner and ambled forward to meet me, a long, gray drooping tumor swayed back and forth like a giant fleshy pendulum from the side of her face. If she was embarrassed by my look of shock and horror, she didn’t show it. She simply continued forward with her head held high and gently licked my hand before retiring to a sunny corner to resume her afternoon nap. My neighbor seemed more embarrassed about it than Dana did. She quickly assured me that it was painless and more life- threatening to put Dana under for surgery to remove it than to simply leave it hang. So hang it did and Dana was fine with that. It’s just one of those things that happens with time and her peace with it made me ashamed of my constant struggle to hide a barely perceptible age spot. There’s no vanity in the dog world. They are blissfully unaware of the droopy lids and sagging neckline. Dogs don’t go running for the Grecian Formula in order to cover the graying that gradually appears around their mouthes. In Proverbs 16:31, it reads, “Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life” We are called to embrace our graying tresses. The Bible calls it a “crown” and who wouldn’t want to wear a crown? But the world tells us otherwise. Perhaps that’s why dogs don’t care, they don’t have to stand in line at the grocery store and tolerate the seductive stares of the beautiful people from the covers of Cosmo and Glamour. They are immune to the constant calls to stay young and fit from countless infomercials. But I have no doubt they enjoy the runs and walks we take them on as we desperately try to do just that. They gladly run beside us as we try to out run the clock and they do it with their gray hair flowing as we tuck ours under a baseball cap until our next salon appointment.

It’s not only a dog’s ambivalence toward the superficial physical changes that happen as they age that impress me but their mental attitude towards it as well. Dogs perpetually think they’re two. At a bounce of a ball or the sound of an opening chip bag, my dog Deion who is the human equivalent age of 56, will spring from his bed and run to where the action is. It’s a conditioned response that refuses to fade with time. Granted, that spring is a little less sure and quick as it used to be but the point is, he is always up for a change in the game plan. His energy is always enthusiastically pursuing those things that bring him joy. Age is not an impediment. Ecclesiastes 8:15 tells us, “And I commend joy, for man has nothing better under the sun but to eat and drink and be joyful, for this will go with him in his toil through the days of his life that God has given him under the sun.” There is joy to be had at any age, just watch your dog as he goes through his days under the sun and you would swear the water that fills his bowl is from the fountain of youth.

Dogs are living, breathing examples of the fact that God calls us to embrace our lives and His calling for it -- even as we age. It’s easy to look ahead with the bright optimism of a young and healthy twenty-year old and feel that we can do anything to which God calls us. However, it seems we heed less and less God’s calling as we age. Perhaps we think we aren’t physically capable of accomplishing much but what we have in later years is experience and the wisdom of age. “Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days” (Job 12:12) Qualities our world today values less and less but in God’s eyes, it’s a treasured gift and is of immeasurable value. Proverbs 16:16 reminds us, “How much better to get wisdom than gold! To get understanding is to be chosen rather than silver.”

Look to the Old Testament patriarchs. Noah was six hundred years old at the time of the flood. God did not call a young man to build the ark, after all, Noah had sons that could just have easily been commanded to construct the biggest boat of all time but he called Noah. Noah had wisdom and righteousness. He had the integrity to stand up against the tirade of nay sayers and scoffers that surrounded him daily. He wasn’t worried about how he appeared to the world as a younger man might, his only concern was being obedient to God. Abraham was ninety-nine years old and childless when God told him that he would be the father to a multitude of nations. Even Abraham’s wife Sarah had to laugh when she overheard that she would become a new mother while in her nineties but was quickly silenced when the angel told her, “Is anything too hard for the Lord?” (Gen. 18:14). Genesis 21 goes on to read, “Now the Lord was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what he had promised. Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him.” (21:1) Age is not a barrier if God calls you to a particular task for he will give you all that you need to fulfill it. Strength, endurance, energy and time; God will provide the provision. How else could a man as old as Moses was survive the plagues of Egypt and a 40 year trek in the desert?

God grants each and every one of our days according to his perfect purpose and will. Whether we are 9 or 90, God can and will use us if we trust and obey. Don’t ever believe you are too old to leap off the couch if God bounces the ball.

Dogs Who Teach Us To Heal

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked the boy as he ran his hand over the bandana tied to Deion’s neck.

“Orange, I guess. Or yellow.” He answered.

Knowing there was a bright orange bandana among the ones we had at home I replied, “Well, I think Deion has an orange one, he’ll wear it next time we meet.”

“Or I could bring one!” He replied, excitedly. “My mom has a bunch because she has cancer.”

I knew this moment may come when I volunteered Deion, my beloved therapy Dobe, and myself to partner with a child at the Gathering Place camp at Rescue Village, but still my mouth and heart struggled with an appropriate response. In my human-ness, I wanted to say the perfect thing. Something filled with comfort and understanding. Instead I said, “oh.” Brilliant.

“All the kids here have a mom or dad that has cancer, that’s what the camp is all about.” He added matter-of-factly. “Some of their parents are real sick.”

I was amazed at this 7 year-old boy’s frankness and transparency. Cancer was a fact and a way of life. “How’s your mom?” I stupidly spit out. Knowing a bit of the circumstances that we were briefed on prior to the camp but not aware of how he felt or his comfort level on discussing it.

“Oh, she’s doing real good!” He said with a smile on his face. He had bailed me out. We both looked down at Deion and stroked his shiny, black coat. Deion was silent.

I’ve replayed this dialogue over and over in my head. Each time, I think of something more profound I could have said. A better question I could have asked. A sentence I might have uttered that would have made this little boy with a face full of freckles and hope, understand his life as he now knew it, but I said, “oh”. I guess there were worse things I could have said. But as I glance over at Deion today, enjoying the sun warming the boards of our deck, I envy his gift of silence and am given a vivid reminder of Job 2:11-13, paraphrasing: “Now when Job’s three friends heard of all this evil that had come upon him, they each came from his own place....And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.”

I can picture the scene. Job, crumpled to ground, sitting outside the city gates in shame with his three friends surrounding him, their arms around his shoulders, their faces drawn in pain for their friend, and their mouths shut as Job mourns. The problem is, their mouths didn’t stay shut. Their human nature takes over and their words become daggers and salt. They lay blame and construct possible scenarios to justify God’s plan for Job’s life until Job declares, “As for you, you whitewash with lies; worthless physicians are you all. Oh that you would keep silent, and it would be your wisdom.” (Job 13:4,5). I also ponder the length of time they sat with Job before they spoke, seven days and seven nights. Seven, in Hebrew, is from the root savah, meaning “to be full or satisfied, have enough of”. It is the number of perfection and completion. If they would have been content in their silence at the end of those seven days, their mission would have been completed.

“oh”. Why did I feel the need to talk? I had personally witnessed the change that had occurred in the boy these last few days spent with Deion. The child, who at first, gingerly approached this large, intimidating dog; who flinched away each time Deion made a motion, was now stroking Deion’s neck, brushing his back, teaching him a trick to show his mom and dad on Parent’s Day. He had developed complete trust and his fear had subsided, not by me telling him how great Deion was or by my reassurance of Deion’s gentleness but by Deion just being Deion. No words, just gentle acts of obedience to the boy’s commands and a tenderness to the boy’s touch.

I also watched this boy, with his life consumed by cancer, forget for just a while his worries at home and experience joy and pride in “his” dog, Deion as Deion leaped through rings and effortlessly shot through the tunnels of Rescue Village’s tiny agility course.

Our words so often get in the way of our intentions. I don’t believe Job’s friends intended to make him feel worse. They loved him, they had “made an appointment to show him sympathy and comfort him.” (Job 2:11) But we put such importance on our words. Not that words can’t be a comfort, they can. But knowing when their use is appropriate is tough. At least it is for me. Dogs never have that issue. When we hurt, they curl up around us, they lay their head on our laps, they look up at us with those eyes that seem to say, “it’s okay, you can cry.” And we do. Their closeness and the warmth of those eyes comfort us. They make us feel loved, accepted, and understood. They’ve never said a word. They come, created by God, to comfort silently. And therein lies their wisdom.