The beautiful brindle dog in the picture is the family pet that we just had to give a loving, but very sad farewell to just yesterday, because our little furry girl developed sudden widespread lung cancer. I am inspired to write about this event in our lives, because we had Gracie for just over 8 years. On our way home after having to put the poor pup to sleep (in order to end the painful breathing and accelerated atrophy of muscle and tissue for the poor dog), I told my wife on the long, sad drive home; "Honey, whenever I think about home, I always think of coming home to that beautiful brindle furry friend; part of the pack of family dogs that welcome us home. Now that home will never be the same."
But I realize something else about Gracie. She was a central figure in our family for several years, and both my wife and my son said they wished they had more time with her; that they wished they could make up for the times they may have taken time with her for granted. But I couldn't help but think to myself, how that regret, though profound and real and understandable, is for a dog. Not a person, or a lover, or a fellow human being, but a dog. Now do not misunderstand me; our Gracie wasn't just any dog. At one time she was 'Crazy Gracie', because we would come home at times and see her standing in the middle of the dining room table - ON TOP OF IT. She would sneak things off the kitchen counter when you weren't looking, and you would wonder just when the heck did she do that?! She would look right at you when she was younger, and if she wanted something, she would randomly growl real low and gnaw on the corner of the coffee table. She'd jump up and down when you got home, and then pounce down into a crouched position with her front paws, but her rear end and tail would be sticking up wagging playfully. She was just... crazy. But nevertheless, she was a dog.
But she was our dog, and I am convinced that because she always knew she had a home with us (she was originally a foster dog, and two other families had given her up because they said she was too 'crazy' and shed too much fur), she came to appreciate us for no other reason than the fact that she knew we represented her home. Now catch that last part. You see, before us, she did not have as much hope, because her home was not stable; the place for shelter was changing, and the people brushed her off for whatever reasons because they just didn't want her in their home. We gave the dog hope - in the sense that something can give a dog hope, besides over the next few seconds between following a command, and getting a doggie treat. But I digress.
So there Jason was again, thinking as usual, about the regret my family had, as if the emotional little furry creature known as Gracie could understand something like 'amount of time spent' doing this or that. But I realized because Gracie reminded me so much of our home, we had given her exactly what she needed, regarding hope, and especially a home, for over 8 years. But she was just a dog...right? (For the sake of the post)
What if I were to tell you that each and every single one of us, can have hope for an eternal home, with a loving Father in heaven who calls you His, and all I have to do to give you that hope, is to help you understand why I have that same hope, so that you may know the same Good News? But what if, by not telling you that Good News, even though I knew it was my duty, I ruined potentially one last chance of you ever having that heavenly, eternal home?
You see, I think if I am guilty of that, then I should certainly have regret about that! It is one thing to have regret for something you may or may not have done for a dog. But we are talking about fellow images of God here... and we didn't take the time to tell that one person about Jesus Christ - especially when we had the chance!
Peter tells us, "...but sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks youto give an account for the HOPE that is in you, but with gentleness and respect." (1 Peter 3:15, NASB).
And we must remember that Christ Himself told us to "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations..." (Matthew 28:19, NASB), thus giving us a duty. Regret for the loss of a loving pet is rational, and understandable. But should we not have even more regret in our hearts, if we let possibly the one chance we had, to present a fellow image bearer with the Good News that they can have the same hope we do, to finally reach that eternal place we can call HOME?
My food for thought, as I still mourn the loss of one beautiful, furry family friend.
In Christ,
JEF
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