Lost Dog
There's a well-worn joke that I've always liked about a notice that was posted in a local newspaper. It read:"Lost Dog. Please help us find our pet. Mixed breed. Blind in one eye. Deaf. Missing several teeth. Has only half a tail. Suffers from mange. Answers to "Lucky.""
It's funny, of course, but you know something? That dog was lucky; he was lucky because someone loved him, and so badly wanted him returned that they paid for a classified ad in the newspaper. You would think that this was a dog that only a mother could love, and you would be wrong.
I think we're a little like that dog. We're mixed in that we are each a bundle of contradictions. Our inner selves fight it out all the time as we try to weigh the things we want to do against the things we need to do. Most of us are blind in one eye in that we often see only what we wish to see -- about ourselves, about others, about the events around us. We can be completely deaf in the same way. Our teeth and our tail make plain that we have been through some battles in our day, battles in which life has scarred us with its indignities small and large. And the bright, shiny outlook with which we wish we could greet each day has gotten a little mangy from life's setbacks.
And yet, someone loves us. God loves us anyway, and keeps putting out the call for us to make it back home in time for supper. We tear up the yard, howl at the moon, and get into too many scraps with the other dogs, but still there waits for us a good meal, a warm blanket, and a soothing hand.
We should answer to "Lucky."
Amen.
Devin Scillian
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