Rascal (God Moments)

The seeds for this God Moment were sewn nearly fifty years earlier and a few seasons of life removed.

Link:  Flopper (Kid Stuff)

Rascal became a part of our family as an orphan.  His former family had become too large and Rascal was odd-dog-out.  Now, personally, I never would have named him Rascal because the name simply didn’t fit with his personality and character.  But he seemed to be fine with it, so who was I to argue.

From day one, we bonded.  And for 9 years he was my constant companion. I was telecommuting during this juncture of life so much our relationship would be defined as routine.  Rascal loved his food (a trait we shared) but always waited patiently for the “OK” and then attacked his bowl with ravenous gulps.   The word “work” and he bolted upstairs to be at my desk waiting.  Then he would curl up at my feet and hardly move until the end of the day.  “Walk” and he was at the back door.  We both looked forward to jogging and if he fell a wee bit behind I think it was deliberate just so he could give me a good-natured mocking as he raced past.  Car rides were a source of joy.  Never one to stick his head out the window or put his nose on the glass, instead he would sit in the passenger seat and view the passing scenery with the air of a prince surveying his kingdom.  That always made me laugh.  But our best-loved activity was beachcombing.  His treasure was tennis balls while I was working on a buoy collection.  Whenever I’d peer into a crevice between the driftwood, more often than not, Rascal had his head in there as well.  I’m sure he wanted to make sure I was doing it right.  Finally, night would fall and he would jump into his bed with the same enthusiasm that had defined his breakfast meal.  We competed to see which of us would be snoring first.  Poor Jamie.  And so it went for a number of years.  Those were good days.

But life deals out trials as well.  There came a day when my services were no longer required at my place of employment.  Now that messed with my self-worth and both our routines.    But Rascal adjusted long before I could even begin to cope.  And while the fallout of the layoff rained down on my psyche, brachytherapy began.  Rascal would lie by my side and throughout the day he would occasionally give me one of his deep, questioning looks which asked “Is everything alright?”   And if I sent the wrong non-verbal signals he would nuzzle my leg as if to say “You can do it.  You’re loved.”  

But I still didn’t get it.

Then one post-recovery day, while exploring this beautiful place that we call home, Rascal at my side, something triggered a synapse and I "flashed back" to Flopper.  It struck me that in Rascal, our great and mighty God had truly granted me a "desire of my heart" - a desire that had laid dormant for all those many years and I wasn't even aware of until that moment.

God's goodness and timing are amazing.  Through Rascal, God not only gave me great joy but He also taught me life lessons about unconditional love, faithfulness, loyalty, unbridled joy, patience, and perseverance.  Lessons that would have been lost on my seven year old mind so many years earlier.  But hopefully, in this time and in this place, have made an impact on the man God wants me to be.

Well, life has a way of moving forward.  Rascal’s hind legs began giving way to old age.  Our jogs became walks.  And our walks became slower and shorter and before long there was nothing left save for the undefeated look in his eye that said “Lets go!” 

Finally, the decision was made to put Rascal down.  For the whole of that day I believe that Rascal "knew" that something wasn't quite right.  He could feel my anxiety.  And true to his nature, I don't think he was the least bit concerned about his own physical pain.  He wanted to help me instead.  A final lesson, taught by a selfless friend, and orchestrated by a truly awesome God.   

I still beach comb occasionally.  And if there should be a tennis ball amongst the drift, I smile and leave its fate to the tides.