A Dog's Purpose

 My hands covered my face as I sobbed, squatting down in the middle of a dimly lit parking deck at the airport. I felt Dan's hand on my arm, lifting me so we could keep walking and get in the car while my sorrow poured out of my eyes like a flood prompted by a simple question:  "How's Link?"

"We're getting a dog!!!! YESSS!!!" Two, bright-eyed boys who had just been uprooted from everything they knew and transplanted into an environment which by all accounts was completely foreign to them, rejoiced as they savored a moment of rare bliss: we were getting a dog.  After 20 years of marriage and endless requests, I gave in and rubber-stamped the idea of adopting a dog.  "But it has to be small and some mix of poodle because I'm allergic!" "And YOU all are going to take care of it." "And I am NOT going to be cleaning after it." "And YOU are going to have to feed it and bathe it and take it out and tend to its needs...YOU...not me...YOU, OK?" "Am I making myself clear?"

I laugh now remembering the, we're-finally-getting-a-dog-inspired diatribe I went through after we told the kids back almost 9 years ago.  Back when I didn't know anything about having a pet...back when I'd still refer to him as "it"...back when I had no clue what I was in for...back when I didn't know I was about to discover the tangible meaning of being unconditionally loved. 

Needless to say, I was the one who had to take care of him, feed him (although I have to admit, I shared many of these responsibilities with Dan), clean up after him, take him to the vet, give him his meds, tend to his needs, and so on and on and on and on.  With all that, however, I was also the recipient of this little creature's purpose: to spend the rest of his life perfectly loving me.  

He was my faithful friend, always waiting for me at the top of the steps every single time I'd come home and at the bottom of the steps every single time I'd come down from my room.  He was the one who followed my every step around the house and kept me company by my feet every single time I was at my desk working.  He was the one sitting on my lap every single time I sat down to watch TV.  He was the one who was always with me, watching me while I ate...begging for scraps...watching me carefully and loving me perfectly. 

I never thought a dog would pull at my heart-strings...let alone steal it completely...but Link, with his faithful love did just that and so much more.

Many say that being a parent teaches you a lot about God's love.  I'd have to add that having a dog helps too.

I'd been away, out of the country the week leading to his final moments...so I had to say goodbye to his lifeless, little body after his restless and enlarged heart had already stopped beating.  I caressed his still warm fur and couldn't help but thinking he was going to lift up his head to greet me with delight.  I knew he didn't have long to live due to his heart condition, but I never thought it was going to happen when it did.  I like to think his heart was so full of love that it kept growing...because there was nothing but love in our Link...he was the missing Link and we sure miss him now... but we praise God for giving us the gift of Link, the dog who taught us what a life dedicated to loving others looks like. Thank you, Lord for giving us living examples of love.  

RIP our precious Link.

Visiting Home

 Well, the new year is well on its way, and I find myself packing bags because I'm traveling to Panama tomorrow.  It has been a trip intensely prepared since it is mostly a work-related trip.  I'm accompanying a student who is going to spend 2.5 months in my hometown for an immersion experience and I'm traveling with her to get her settled.  The plan is that I will stay in Panama for a week to help her navigate a bit.  Panama is not an easy country to visit on your own.  You have to go with someone who knows how things work there.  That's why I have never really pushed hard to establish any sort of study abroad situation in my country of birth.  But this student is the daughter of our friend and that just makes everything more ... complicated.

At any rate, I have been stressing out about this trip since August.  I think I have all the details I could anticipate, taken care of.  Until they canceled my Airbnb reservation and I was left without a place to stay...

The thing is, the area where my hometown is located is having a huge festival happening around the days I will be there.  It is the first year they have been able to do this festival since Covid, so people are really excited and since it is "summer" over there, half the country is traveling to my hometown and surrounding areas for the entire week! Therefore, there is no room at any inn...Hotels were booked since October so I had to resort to alternative sites like VRBO and Airbnb...I found one house...but, in Panama...things are never smooth, so the owner decided he had to cancel my reservation days before my trip.  Needless to say, it was panic time.  But I'm happy to announce that after playing a bit with the dates, I was able to get a place for my sister and I to stay.

The worst part of this last-minute-agitation, however, has been the reminder that I don't have a place of my own in the town I've always considered ... home ...

I'm just a visitor who needs to book a hotel every time I go.  So, I'm not "coming home."  I'm just "visiting" the place that once was home...and that is a very hard and sad realization to accept...

Sigh...

I think of my sons, growing up in this house, having their own bedrooms.  I think of Grant who even though he leaves in the dorms for the semester, he knows he can always come "home" and his room will be waiting for him right the same way it was when he left it, regardless of when that was.  I think of Dylan and his huge mess, and how he decided that what he wanted for Christmas was a "room-make-over" because he wants to give it his personal touch rather than keeping the stuff we had put in there for him.  I know that it hasn't occurred to them that one day they might not be able to "come home" because "home" is no more.  I know that, because that's how I felt up until about 12 years ago...but things do change.  Parents pass away.  Siblings' disagreements turn ugly. People get hurt. Sisters are locked out...only able to drive by the house they grew up in and look at it from the other side of the fence...memories fade.

The good news is, home is not a house.  Home is where the people we love are, even if it is a cardboard box.  And the best news of all is, we have a mansion waiting for us in Heaven. (John 14: 2)  We have a place specially prepared for us at our permanent residence which nobody could ever take away from us. We would never have to wonder if it has been converted into someone's studio.  We would never have to stare at it from afar.  We've never be locked out. We have been told by Jesus Himself that He, Himself is preparing it for us...and that's all we need to know.  No worries or stress or anxiety...just infinite gratitude and peace.

So, as I entrust this trip to His Hands, I pray that the thought of us having an eternal home prepared for us by the One Whose Spirit resides in us, will fill us up with hope, peace and love in this new year.  Blessed be the Precious Name of Jesus.  Amen!