GOD AND DOG
I found this clip on YouTube.com
It struck a chord with me.
Especially, it showed me how to be attentive to divine presence around me,
how God is revealed in the ordinary.
It struck a chord with me.
Especially, it showed me how to be attentive to divine presence around me,
how God is revealed in the ordinary.
GOD and DOG
I look up and I see God.
I look down and see my dog.
Simple spelling … G.O.D.
Same word backwards … D.O.G.
They would stay with me all day,
I'm the one who walks away.
Both of them just wait for me
And dance at my return with glee.
They love me no matter what
Divine God … canine mutt.
I take it hard each time I fail
But God forgives, dog wags her tail.
God thought up and made the dog.
Dog reflects a part of God.
I see love from both sides now
It's everywhere.
Amen. Bow-wow.
I look up and I see God.
I look down and see my dog.
And in my human frailty
I can't match their love for me.
Wendy Fransisco
Nine years ago, I inherited a dog.
No big deal, you may say.
But I am not a dog person.
Not any sort of animal person really.
Too selfish or lazy or preoccupied to care for their daily needs;
to clean up poopy messes;
to spend hours (and dollars) at the vet.
But Spotty came to live in our house.
She did not attach herself to the three eager children but to reluctant me.
We were both grieving.
She sat for
eighteen months in the front yard waiting for her previous owner to return.
I retreated into depression.
She has taught me about fidelity and loyalty and companionship.
About enjoying simple pleasures and being grateful for the little things.
She has counseled me about living in the present and about allowing others to minister to me.
She has taught me about defending those precious to her, no matter how big the foe.
Through her, I have learned to keep my own counsel.
And to be patient, to take advantage of the quiet times, the 'down' times.
We go for long walks, ambles really.
She follows a scent, then pauses to drink it in.
So I take part in a walking meditation:
a time to step mindfully, to pause, to breathe consciously and reflect.
Then we repeat the process over and over.
Sometimes we walk in the rain and the dark:
veils to mask my distress, my tears.
Even though she dislikes the weather, she strides beside me, looking up, keeping watch.
When I pause to rest, I tuck her inside my jacket and I feel her lean into me, relaxing, finding warmth and security.
I know I am loved, trusted, worthy.
Spotty knows about doing wrong.
Little messes that need a helping hand to clean up.
A bark or a yap at the wrong time.
Her tail hangs between her legs. Her big eyes seek forgiveness.
And then all is well.
I have learned that sometimes I err, say the wrong thing, upset people.
But I have also learned that most messes can be cleaned up,
and reconciliation wipes the slate clean.
There is a beautiful children's book, 'The Dog Who Walked With God',
which retells the Kato legend of how the Great Traveler stepped out, with his dog by his side, to awaken life.
The dog was so revered by the Kato Indians,
they believed the creator had to have such a companion
as “he undertook the difficult task of making a world of goodness out of emptiness.”
Life is not easy.
But with the gift of a faithful companion,
I have been able to see 'a world of goodness'
where before I could only see emptiness.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
www.wendyfrancisco.com
Rosen, Michael The Dog Who Walked With God, Walker Books, 1998
No big deal, you may say.
But I am not a dog person.
Not any sort of animal person really.
Too selfish or lazy or preoccupied to care for their daily needs;
to clean up poopy messes;
to spend hours (and dollars) at the vet.
But Spotty came to live in our house.
She did not attach herself to the three eager children but to reluctant me.
We were both grieving.
She sat for
eighteen months in the front yard waiting for her previous owner to return.
I retreated into depression.
She has taught me about fidelity and loyalty and companionship.
About enjoying simple pleasures and being grateful for the little things.
She has counseled me about living in the present and about allowing others to minister to me.
She has taught me about defending those precious to her, no matter how big the foe.
Through her, I have learned to keep my own counsel.
And to be patient, to take advantage of the quiet times, the 'down' times.
We go for long walks, ambles really.
She follows a scent, then pauses to drink it in.
So I take part in a walking meditation:
a time to step mindfully, to pause, to breathe consciously and reflect.
Then we repeat the process over and over.
Sometimes we walk in the rain and the dark:
veils to mask my distress, my tears.
Even though she dislikes the weather, she strides beside me, looking up, keeping watch.
When I pause to rest, I tuck her inside my jacket and I feel her lean into me, relaxing, finding warmth and security.
I know I am loved, trusted, worthy.
Spotty knows about doing wrong.
Little messes that need a helping hand to clean up.
A bark or a yap at the wrong time.
Her tail hangs between her legs. Her big eyes seek forgiveness.
And then all is well.
I have learned that sometimes I err, say the wrong thing, upset people.
But I have also learned that most messes can be cleaned up,
and reconciliation wipes the slate clean.
There is a beautiful children's book, 'The Dog Who Walked With God',
which retells the Kato legend of how the Great Traveler stepped out, with his dog by his side, to awaken life.
The dog was so revered by the Kato Indians,
they believed the creator had to have such a companion
as “he undertook the difficult task of making a world of goodness out of emptiness.”
Life is not easy.
But with the gift of a faithful companion,
I have been able to see 'a world of goodness'
where before I could only see emptiness.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
www.wendyfrancisco.com
Rosen, Michael The Dog Who Walked With God, Walker Books, 1998
