214-351-1901
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SCRIPTURE
Ruth 1: 16-18
Entreat me not to leave you or to return from following after you.
WORDS OF HOPE
He comes loping from the pine forest as I near the campground—a
caramel-colored, wiggly butt of a pup, greeting me without hesitation and licking the salty sweat off the back of my knees. Of course, I start talking to him, stroking his fur, and scruffing him. It has been almost a year since Charley died, and my dreams of dogs are preparing me for adoption. He’s sweet, affectionate, and playful, friendly to everyone who comes along. Over and over, I tell him: “You’re a good boy.”
Heading back to the car, I notice that I have a buddy, following me, pulling alongside me at times, smiling and wagging his body. I urge him to “go home, boy,” thinking he’s someone’s in the camping ground, but he won’t turn back. I flag down a jeep and ask the driver if he recognizes the dog. The story begins to unfurl that Buddy (my name for him) has been wandering around for a few days, but no one knows who he belongs to or if he's been abandoned. Greg and I introduce ourselves, and I give him my contact information since he comes to the park regularly to swim and knows the rangers. As we talk, he tells me his wife died a year ago, and, for a moment, our hearts hold his pain together.
Soon thereafter I hail two “mountain men” blazing down the road on their bikes and they provide the same message—stray, around for a couple of days. I applaud their fitness routine and one of them tells me that after a severe accident which required spinal surgery and complete replacement of both knees, he was so down he’d given up hope of living a full life again. But he responded to an inner voice which challenged him not just to sink into darkness, but to begin to work to get better. Months later he is whoopin’ and hollerin’ his praises for healing mercies and biking every day. Sharing our rehab stories and the search for Buddy’s owner connects us in a rare way for two such different folks here in East Texas.
A neighbor puts Buddy’s picture on Facebook, and I drive to Jefferson to the vet to see if the pup is chipped. Nothing. While waiting for word from some possible owner, Buddy comes home with me, cools off, laps up a gallon of water, eats some kibble, lies beside me while I work, and falls asleep. A high-hearted joy surges in me, and it touches me that he feels safe.
Mid afternoon a woman posts on Facebook that she is looking for her lost dog and will be down to see if it is hers. He is indeed, and though I am glad for her reunion, my heart sinks.
As Buddy and I walk out of the enclosure of my fence toward her car, his owner excitedly calls his name—"Allen, Allen.” At the recognition, he starts forward, then stops and looks
up at me. A fist grabs my heart, but I look at him and say, “It’s Ok, boy, go home.” And he charges toward his family.
Though I still have an ache in my chest, I am rich in the personal connections that day with local folks. Somehow this sweet, rangy dog had helped us build bridges to each other, rather than erecting walls.
PRAYER
Oh God, let me be as this good dog Buddy, following faithfully and building bridges. Amen.
DEVOTION AUTHOR
Dr. Pat Saxon
Cathedral of Hope
Proclaiming Christ Through Faith, Hope and Love
5910 Cedar Springs Road | Dallas, TX | 75235
214-351-1901
info@cathedralofhope.com