HCLM BLOG

I was at my childhood home last weekend celebrating the baptism of my brother's six children. Staying at my mom's house, I found myself alone with my sister's dog Diego while the woman went out to do...well, whatever women do when they get together. In my defense, this dog has never liked me. Loves everyone else but he has made a habit of growling at me whenever I'm around. For those that know me, you know that I'm a dog lover, an animal lover really. In fact, just last night, I saved a gecko from the grips of Margaret's cat. So my friend comes to the door and when I open it, Diego, seizing the opportunity, darts past us both into the front yard. After multiple attempts to corral the pup, he took off through the neighborhood with me, as Rosco P. Coltrain (of Dukes of Hazard fame) used to say, in hot pursuit. Several houses, one street and a creek later, he lost me. My friend went to his car and scoped the neighborhood for this dog. Three hours later, still no dog. Three hours and 1 minute later, my sister came home. My friend was worried about her reaction. I was more concerned about my two little nieces and nephew.

We all joined the search, talking to neighbors I haven't seen in 15 years but nothing. As the sun set, we regrouped at home. Periodically the children would go outside and yell, "Diego!" That made me feel great. I slept on the couch in case this dog would find his way home and bark to come in. I didn't sleep that night. The sound of thunder and the thought of a lost dog consumed me. I got up off the couch at 6a to ride the streets again. Still nothing. I am beginning to wonder how God must feel when one of his children get lost. Later I am thankful that I'm not God.

Sunday nothing. Sunday night now flurries. Monday morning we get a phone call that he is in the next town by a school (5 miles away). We dash over and search. Nothing. We get another call from the police department that has spotted him in the neighborhood. We dash over there. Margaret spots him in the backyard. Diego spots them and takes off again. We fly home. I wonder if it would have been better if I stayed at home. Still wondering how God lives with the thought of lost children.

Wednesday night my phone rings as I'm wrapping up confirmation. It's my sister. Someone has found Diego and has him in her garage. Five days later, this smelly dog comes home. I'm elated! Thinking about throwing a party. Also thinking about flying home again and yelling at Diego. I settle on thinking about how God must celebrate when a lost child returns. Still glad I am not God.

At the risk of sounding redundant: I watch Biggest Loser (don't knock it til you've tried it).