We heard about a product (not sold in Canada of course!!!) called Bite Not. We called them in San Francisco and the lady was very rude to Bee. I said to Bee, you think she was rude; she thinks it was just a normal business transaction.
So we went to Shopper's Drug Mart and I purchased a neck brace - medium sized (shoulda got a small; but they didn't have any) and Havana now can look like a car-accident puppy instead of a lampshade.
On Tuesday, while she was at the Vet, getting all drugged up and cut up and stitched up, her brother Douglas (who was neutered back in January and didn't like it none too much) missed her. His mother and I told him repeatedly that Havana was at the Vet and would be back later, he was SO sad. He laid at the top of the stairs and stared down into the carpet. He moaned and slouched and made it very clear to us that life sucks and is full of nothing but dispair. He'd take some treats; but make it seem like they were the worst thing in the world.
As soon as Bee left with Havana in the morning, Doug started to sulk. I could only imagine the questions he was asking in his little doggy-mind: Where is Havana? Why can't I be with her? When will she be home?
If only he knew where she was, he wouldn't be so eager to be with her. But he didn't know. He had no idea; all he knew was that he was stuck at home and he was "missing out."
I understand that. I get that exact same feeling: "missing out." Bee gets it too. It is only a superficial feeling since God has given us freedom in Christ and marital union. But before we were married; before we were living in a way that experienced the freedom of Jesus, we both were overwhelmed and overcome by the feeling of "missing out." It's a terrible feeling. Akin to panic.
Psalm 37 gives us encouragement to not panic, nor to envy people. You know how most parents will talk about the lessons they learn from their kids? And Christian parents say they learn a lot about how God views us by how they view their kids? Well, my wife and I can't have kids and our puppies are our kids (we'll foster in a few years, probably) and I sure seem to learn a lot about God from watching my puppies.
I've been learning to be patient with life, especially the unknowns. I've been learning to wait for God (psalm 37:7). I've also got this notion that waiting for God ISN'T waiting for God to give me what I want. That's where the trust comes in. That's the space where stuff comes up in me: worry, fear, what-ifs. It is these things I submit to God, turn over to Him. It is this struggle and difficulty that is the very essence of trusting God.
Trusting God is a lot like Douglas desperately hoping to be with Havana, desperately hoping that she'll come home. Raising his head at every sound of a car. Raising his voice at any noise outside. Making deep eye contact with me when I'm saying her name and telling him where she is. He wants to understand.
Douglas is not a dumb dog. He's not emotionless. He's sensitive. He wants to please. He wants to feel secure. Trust isn't the lack of tension; it is the place to abide in the very thick of the tension.
Psalm 63:7 talks about singing for joy in the shadow of His wings. It is this perspective I am thinking about singing for joy. Not that every little thing works out; but that God is good and to be in His shadow is the place to be.
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