03/21/2017

“For people and animals share the same fate—both breathe and both must die.”  Ecclesiastes 3:19  NLT

I have found an inverse proportion in my concern–fear, if you prefer–over the eventuality of death for Famous. When he was a puppy, I brought him into my life knowing inevitably he would one day leave it. This concerned me perhaps more than it should have. In some ways it seemed like a short-term investment with ultimate loss over profit. I found I could barely enjoy the sheer happiness he gave me without acknowledging at some level it would all have to end one day.

For the most part, I found relief in knowing he still had many years to live, many years where I could help him explore the world, and many years to have him by my side. Still, it seemed as though we were on a long road to a final good-bye.

But soon this quickly became the reason for sharing as much of myself as possible in what could never be enough years. I found that some moments transcended time and became tiny pinholes in the fabric of eternity. Even repetitive, routine tasks could easily take on a uniqueness of the shared moment. The burden was still there, but it had found purpose in responsibility, in the calling as his master.

Now that Famous is well into the second half of his life, and even as he has become more precious to me than I could have ever imagined, it is not his leaving that frightens me. That day will come, and there will be a cavernous void for sure. But as he becomes older, he is mostly more of a blessing, a reminder that age can be a great time for sweetness, familiarity, and love. I find I want to be with him less out of necessity and more out of curiosity, to see what lessons he wants to teach me about the journey through life.

Dear God, because of death, help me to celebrate life today.