My mother sent me a picture of my dog when I was about 15. His name was Red. He was a big old fat Red Lab. I loved that dog. He followed me everywhere I went. I feel bad that I didn’t take better care of him. A few walks would have done him good. I took the picture when he was in better days.
I found him dead in the garage, which was traumatic. He was the second death I remember seeing. The first being a pet rabbit of mine that died in a freezing storm that hit our area. Red died slowly. In those days people didn’t really take their dogs to vets. Life just went its course. I think now he probably suffered quit a bit.
I was happy to have the picture. I wish I had more pictures. I have one drawer of a file cabinet filled with photos of my kids and various things. I went through a kick of taking pictures of dilapidated old barns for a while. And then I was into shooting pics of birds. I have all kinds of them.
But I don’t have enough meaningful ones. I need to take a lot more pictures of my mom and dad and Lori. I don’t have hardly any photos of Lori and me. I really need to get a new camera.
I had a theological question come to mind when I saw Red’s picture. I discussed it with Lori. It was, “do pets go to heaven?” And will we see them in heaven. Seems like a silly question for a grown man. But I wanted the answer to be yes so badly.
I wonder if such thoughts aren’t like the debris of creation’s shipwreck floating to the shore of our hearts. Separation is a cruel reality of the fall. Its something we all dread. I think we were never intended in the original scheme of things to experience separation or wonder if you’ll see your dog in heaven. These are memories of a world we long for.
And this is what Christ came to do, “reconcile us and creation with God.”
Actually it is my separation from God that gives me the most pain. I think that was what I experienced the most when I met Christ. It was this feeling I had finally come home to God. I didn’t need pictures or even feelings. I was found by him and happy for it.
We are definitely in the in-between time. We have him and are reconciled. And yet are yet to fully experience it. One theologian called it the “Already, but not yet.”
I had one more thought that connected with me from the picture. I remember playing with Red in the field behind our house. I saw what looked to be a small mud cone lying next to a fence post. I decided to kick it. It was a hornet’s nest. I think Red got stung but they couldn’t penetrate his skin. I got stung but I wasn’t supposed to be where I was so I suffered in quiet.
It’s amazing what we’ll remember given the right moment.
