The Puppy

"If that puppy goes past our house one more time, I'm going out to get it," I told Jim.  We were newlyweds living in an inner city neighborhood where we ran a youth center.  Jim was wary as he had never had a dog before but this little black and brown puppy with a tail longer than her body got to our hearts and sure enough the next time she circled around our block, I went out and rescued her.

We set about to making a list of all the things we would need to make our new adoptee comfortable--food, bowls, a collar, a leash, oh yes, and a bandanna neckerchief.  This puppy also needed a name--Christy.

Christy was a bundle of enthusiasm and wonder.  She checked out our modest apartment.  With each new discovery she would wag her tail.  When Christy got excited, she would start wiggling at the top of her body and eventually, the vibrations would make it down through her tail.  She brought us such pleasure.   Pet ownership was going to be fun!

We woke up the next morning to our new puppy being violently sick.  Every way that her body could get rid of food and water it did.  It was awful.  This little street dog's past had caught up with her and we were afraid we were going to loose her.  And now what?  Our hearts were invested in this tiny black fur creature and we were totally smitten with her.  So several trips to the vet for intravenous fluid treatments followed.  And with lots of love and care, Christy survived what the vet called Parvo virus (usually a fatal condition).

After the first few bad days, our puppy was a joy.  She learned to shake hands.  She learned to say, "please."  She loved to ride in the car and we took her everywhere.  She even won over the heart of Jim's Mom who assured us when we adopted Christy that she would never have a "grand dog!"  (We knew all that changed when we found Mom letting the dog stand on the couch to look out of the window to watch the sanitation truck down on the street.)

Christy was once a street dog and she survived by eating garbage.  She had to protect herself and find shelter.  But as time went by, we noticed that in the presence of love that our puppy began to trust and feel secure.  She was shedding her street ways and her coping mechanisms to fend for herself.  She was allowing us to care for her and be her protector and provider.  She willingly received our affection.

Every once in a while though, the puppy's old ways would surface.  She would steal food and hide it all over the house.   One time, we found brownies under pillows, in the couch, and in our shoes.  She was saving "just in case."  At other times, Christy would sit looking out if the windows of our upstairs apartment.  If she spotted someone she perceived to be a threat, she would fly down our steps, push through her doggy door,  run into our fenced yard and bark her head off to scare the "threat" away.

How many times have I been like our puppy?  Even though I have been living under the pure love of a good Heavenly Father, I return to my own poverty stricken coping mechanisms, too afraid to trust in the richness of God's love and provision.  I momentarily step out of my new identity as God's daughter, His heir.  I risk missing out on His perfect blessings, opting for staying in my imperfect comfort zone instead.
 In the New Testament book of Galatians it says:

You can tell for sure that you are now fully adopted as his own children because God sent the Spirit of his Son into our lives crying out, “Papa! Father!” Doesn’t that privilege of intimate conversation with God make it plain that you are not a slave, but a child? And if you are a child, you’re also an heir, with complete access to the inheritance.   Galatians 4:4-7 (The Message)