I was driving this evening with my eight year old daughter in the car. We were on the hunt for some Big League Chew. Earlier I had promised her I would find it, but two stores later, we were still unsuccessful, and time was running out. At some point we had to get home. All the nightly routines awaited, and it was already almost 7 o’clock.

To top it off, I still needed time to put together an article for Elisha’s Riddle, with the deadline being later that night. So far I didn’t have much. Some musings. A couple notes. Nothing concrete. Meh. I didn’t really like any of it.

I turned to my daughter…

“Hey, Stella, what should I write my article on?”  

Now, keep in mind we had just been discussing the deep topic of gum. She doesn’t know or care about theology. Or prophesy. She definitely doesn’t care about Dylan DeMarsico’s book, The Happy Trinity.          

“How about Diego?” she says matter of factly.   

“Diego? Our dog?”  

…sure

Why not.  

I’m pretty good with metaphors.    

Diego is our 3 ½ year old rescue dog. He is some kind of Jack Russel Hound mix. A sweetheart to be sure, but he’s also bonkers.

24 hours of energy. ADHD. Schizophrenic. Uncontrollable licker of exposed human knees.    

Diego, our dog, needs a therapy dog.    

Now we hear a lot and are often compared to sheep in the bible.

But not so often to dogs. Yet I find that when I walk him, I can see myself in his behavior. And for our purposes here, I, the walker, am God.

We live in a fairly unpopulated area, so I often walk Diego off his leash.  It took a while to get to this point where I am able to do this. I had to come to a place where I could relatively trust him.  Now, I don’t completely trust him. He obeys most commands and is very good. But I still need to remind him to stop at one specific place every single time. I still need to keep him away from the road. And if we see a squirrel, I’m in trouble.         

Now, I tell myself it’s because we won’t run into anyone that I walk him off leash, but in reality, it’s more for my sanity. On an average walk, he probably pees about 16 times. Stops at roughly every other blade of grass. Sniffs poop. Dog, goose, deer, name it. Is distracted by literally everything. On leash, stopping at every stop, a simple 20 minute walk would take an hour. It’s honestly rather maddening.

But off leash, I simply keep moving, while he does his thing.

When he finishes, he catches up.

And for my part…

I’ve always got an eye on him.  

That’s my job.  

Make sure he doesn’t get hit by a car. 

That’s my job.

Check him for ticks.

That’s my job.

So far we haven’t run into any bears, but if we did, I’m quite certain he’d try to play with them.

And to my own detriment, I’d have to stop him. 

That’s my job. 

When I said I partially (to mostly) trust him, it’s because one day, I realized that he knows his way home. A couple years ago, early on, after he had taken off to go after something in the field, we got separated. I spent a long time looking for him. Eventually, I decided I would go back home get in my car and continue my search. But when I got back, there he was. On the porch waiting. He knew his way home. From a mile away.    

I firmly believe that if God allows us to roam around, it’s because we’re super annoying…. 😉 

Or more likely, because He’s always got an eye on us. And He is watching for cars. And ticks. And bears.     

I firmly believe that if God allows us to “be lost,” it’s because we are past being babied. 

Leashed.    

He trusts that we know His voice.  

And that we know our way home.