Losing Our Way

This incident happened a long time ago, but I think of it fairly often because it still holds instruction for me!

Nickie, my terrier of indeterminate heritage, ran away. Someone left the gate ajar, and she squeezed through the narrow opening into that most desirable of all states--freedom in the world of exciting sounds and smells beyond the backyard fence!

I was busy with chores that took me in and out of the house, the garage, and the yard. Nickie was happily exploring nearby with much digging and snuffling. I had been working for some time, when I became vaguely aware that I had not seen or heard her for quite awhile. I began to look for her, calling her name. She wasn’t in the yard any longer, and she was not in the garage or the house. Where could she be?

I happened then to look across the fence which separates my enclosed backyard from the neighbor’s open one. There was the wayward Nickie, looking back at me! My heart sank. Sorry experience had taught me that Nickie would make a game of being brought back to the confines of our yard. As soon as I began to call and plead, she would run halfway down the block. Just I approached with the leash, ever so slowly and gently, off she would go again to wait for me somewhere in the next block. No amount of pleading prevailed. Only when she grew tired of watching me make such futile attempts or when she was ready to indulge in the proffered treat, would she concede with a dignity that pointed up my own foolishness.

When I saw her across the fence that day, I hurriedly gathered my dog-catching equipment--the leash and plenty of dog biscuits--and enlisted the help of my teenager. I tried to prepare myself mentally for the exasperating chase of this adventure-seeking, disobedient, dumb--and entirely lovable—pet. “Help me,” I prayed. “Please don’t let her get lost. Don’t let her get hit by a car.”

We stepped out onto the porch. “Here, Nickie,” I called tentatively, knowing these words would induce her rapid flight down the street. “Come here, girl.”

I was surprised to see her moving into the unfenced area which joins the front of my property with the neighbor's. I was absolutely stunned when Nickie came running and lay down submissively at my feet. When I picked her up to carry her into the house, I felt the pounding of her little heart. She began to tremble violently. I hugged her tightly. This little dog that was so eager to run away and who always made a game of being “lost” was scared!

It's fun to run down the block when you can see the people who love you coming right along behind. It's neat to smell new things when you know the way back home. But when Nickie slipped out of the back gate and ran down the alley, she was all alone and she couldn’t see Home. When she came through the other yards on our block, she could see Home again. There was the back yard she knew; there was the door she always ran through to get inside the house. But she didn’t know how to get to it. A chain-link fence separated her from being where she now realized she wanted to be.

For several minutes, I held Nickie close until her shivering stopped. I wanted her to feel the warmth and safety of Home again. And while I did this, I thought of the security of parents’ care. “Without making a huge thing of this," I told my daughter, “Nickie’s running away is a lot like teenager’s wanting to leave home. They can hardly wait to get away from their parents and all their rules, so that they can be on their own. But when they get out there in the world, they find it’s kind of scary! They get confused, and they’re not sure they know the way back.”

And of course, teenagers are not that different from everyone else. Who of us hasn’t thought, “If I just didn’t have all these difficulties and restrictions in my life . . . Why is everything so hard for me? I wish I could just be free! ” But the freedom we may sometimes think we want is a scary thing. If we do occasionally slip away through a crack in the “fence” that holds us, we suddenly find ourselves out there all alone. We can see the back yard, so to speak, and we can see the door where we used to go in and out. But we can’t reach it. We’ve lost our way.

Then we hear the Master call our name. If we have any wisdom at all, we will run to Him and throw ourselves at His feet in humility. Hearts pounding with the fright we’ve had, we relax in His strong, warm arms and know that we are safe again and still greatly loved!

MaryMartha
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Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com