because those who are led by
the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive a spirit that makes
you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him
we cry, Abba, Father.” The
Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we
are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if
indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. (Romans 8:14-17)
My sister and her family are among those
who foster dogs. They take in homeless animals that have been found. The help
clean them up, teach them what it means to be loved by a person, and how to love
people back, and then when a "forever family" is found for them, they
say good-bye. I know other people who advocate strongly for adopting shelter
animals rather than buying from a pet store or breeder. I understand their
thinking against breeders and pet stores, but the way I see it, from the dog's
perspective, there is no difference between a shelter and a kennel or pet store,
or between an adopter and a buyer. Both (should) treat the pet with a spirit of
adoption - not as sons and heirs, but with love none-the-less.
It may be that those who have or foster
pets, or those people who are actually adopted, understand this passage better
than the rest of us. It has always been hard for me to understand how someone
might walk down the row of runs, looking through the gates at all of the abandoned,
half-crazed and wormy-with-sin mongrels, and pick me.
I came to understand this spirit of
adoption a little better about 15 years ago. When I got my first Shiba Inu,
Honey, when she was 4 months old. The breeders told me that they had
specifically not socialized her. I didn't realize what they were saying at the
time. They said that someone else had purchased her, but had returned her. I
didn't pay attention to that warning sign. I just wanted a Shiba puppy. Over
time and partly due to my own failures as an owner, we started having problems
with her. I took her to a behaviorist, who told me to take her back to the
breeder, that she was damaged goods and would likely become unmanageable.
I couldn't do that, of course. She was
frightened, and the only people she accepted in the world were Dad and me. She
didn't like other dogs. To send her away would probably have meant sending her
to a shelter. Maybe someone would have adopted her who could have worked to
repair the damage done, but it was more likely they would have had to put her
down.
One day as I was petting her, I
realized that she and I were a lot alike. I was not really socialized and don't
seem to get along with others very well. The smart thing for others to do is to
drop me off at shelter from whence no one had any reason to adopt me. And yet,
God walked down that row of runs and chose me, and now I'm spending lots of
time at the "vet's," at the "groomer's," and in obedience
classes so that I will soon be ready to be in His home. And in the meanwhile,
there are times when It seems as if He just sits with me and rubs my ears, and
He knows that as damaged as I may be, that I'm trying to love Him back and
while it is never what it should be, He allows it to be enough.
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| Honey and Vinegar (2000-2014) at a DAR State Conference |
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