Watching a sparrow just now as she feasted on a dandelion flower seed, I was reminded of how Jesus shepherds us through every day – no matter how small the circle we inhabit or how insignificant we may see ourselves. [1]

Oh, that I would have ears to hear him and eyes to see where he’s leading me! The demands of my body and flesh are often so loud I don’t recognize his presence, but oh how I long to!. He has chosen to be with me forever, and in that I rest. As he opens my ear to hear, I will obey. Wherever He leads me, I will follow.

Thinking of sparrows, as a symbol of God’s caring presence in my life this morning, my thoughts also turned to the amazing dogs that I’ve had over the years. Dogs that willingly listened to me and mostly obeyed, mostly followed—mostly gave me such immense comfort and joy…

Boston, a Beagle that loved to play and would chase me and my brothers around as very young boys.

Sandy, a medium sized mixed-breed that was my companion during my tween years when I felt so lonely and would wander on the North Dakota plains,  or was laid up for six months in a full leg cast. Sandy later welcomed me home from college and defended me against my younger brothers who wanted to wrestle me to the ground.

After marriage, Julia and I had August, a small, black, mixed-breed dog.  August was a quiet, energetic dog that loved to go on walks. When we were preparing for the mission field and moved to Washington, he became Oma and Opa’s dog, even though Oma did not appreciate him at first.

When we moved to Lake Zurich, Illinois, during my time in seminary, Little Miss Salt and Pepper (Pepper for short), came into our lives. She was a Siberian Husky with 1 blue eye. She was very strong in body and mind. When I finally took her to obedience school, it took nine weeks Before she adopted  me as her one and only master. Before that, I think we served her—or was it that she served God?

One day, while visiting some friends that lived on a farm, Pepper bolted away from me and ran into the highway. I called out to the Lord to save her from that busy highway. At that very moment, with a full head of steam in her run, she suddenly sat down right in the middle of the road on her haunches! Yes you can guess what happened. At just that moment, a car went racing by. If Pepper had not sat down at that precise moment, in a dead stop from a full run, she would have been lost and who knows what would have happened to the car or its driver.

Pepper got ovarian cancer when she was five years old. A very kind vet agreed to do surgery on the dog on New Year’s Eve for only the cost of surgical supplies. Pepper lived another 4 years.

After Pepper came Brandon, a little brindle-colored Boston Terrier. Brandon was a little dog that I swear could see angels. I’d be walking along in the park, pouring my heart out to God, seeking his protection, and feeling Him or his ministering angels nearby. Brandon would stop and stare, at what I couldn’t tell. And when we started to walk again, would skirt around some unseen presence. Brandon was a bold, little guy. The Rottweiler, German shepherd and Newfoundland in our neighborhood didn’t scare him and in fact, they seemed nervous around him.

One time, when we were walking by a home we often passed, a large dog rushed out to the street barking aggressively at us, Brandon promptly turned on that dog and chased it up on the porch. Brandon could be a handful around other people also. He either liked you or didn’t. You either like him, or didn’t—perhaps you might even be afraid of him. One day, Brandon was trying out his macho behavior on Dirk, who later would become our son-in-law. Dirk reached down and wrapped his hand around that little dog’s mouth to shut him up. From that point on, I don’t believe Brandon was ever aggressive toward him. Brandon moved with us to Oregon, where he is buried under an apple tree. He grew blind and crotchety. One day he wandered on to the hill above our the river behind our house that had some pretty steep drop offs. Yes, he dropped off and that was that.

Following Brandon, we had one of our most beloved dogs. Julia named her Creme Brulee, after her favorite dessert. For short, we called her Bru. She was a cross between a full blooded white lab and a pure bred golden retriever. That gave her a fawn color with a streak of red curly hair down her back (hence, “crem’ brulee”).

Bru was so much fun. She was filled with play and a desire to go with us wherever we would go. She was the perfect hostess for our retreat home called Nehalem, or House of Peace. The many people that visited us there and the young people that came to stay in our home grew to love her as much as we did. Children would sit and talk to her. Our niece Kristen wanted to dress her up in clothes and she willingly allowed her to. One of the most wonderful parts of our life with Bru was how she encouraged my wife Julia. We would take her to the ocean and those two would be in 7th heaven, so to speak. Julia would tell Bru to go have fun and off she would race to chase the seagulls and to dig up little creatures out of the sand. It broke our hearts when one day she couldn’t get up anymore and we had to put her to sleep.

Moving from Winston, Oregon, our good friends Ed and Tamara gave us a little Shih Tzu puppy [SHEE-tsoo]. We named that little, black ball-of-fur Winston in honor of such great friends. Incidentally, “Winston” which means friendly and he certainly has lived up to his name. Here in Castleton where we live he is known and loved by all the neighbors. His greeting at the door with a wagging tail, his love of playing in the afternoon, his wanting to be with me wherever I go, has become such a comfort to me since Julia passed away four years ago.

And, remembering that, he was Julia’s comfort in the last—so very difficult years of her life.

When I put him on her lap Julia was able to be more content and relaxed against the pains and the breathing difficulties. So, without question, Winston has definitely been a gift from the Lord. First he was a gift of friendship and love from Ed and Tamara. Then he was a gift to our old age, a comfort to us in our physical struggles. Now, he knows my every mood and simply and quietly is present to me.

For a brief year and a half, Bella came into my home. Bella was a rescue dog that belonged to my daughter and son-in-law. They described her as a Pitbull mix and yet I believe she was very much like an Australian cattle dog called a Heeler (which Aussies describe as a breed developed from a pitbull type dog). When my kids got a very energetic and dominant German shepherd puppy, Bella came to live with me and Winston. It was just about the time that I began treatment for cancer.

Bella was the personification of calmness. She was what Dirk describes as an empath. Even more than Winston, Bella could tell exactly how he was feeling. She would sometimes come and lay her head on my feet or on my lap when I was feeling the worst. Six months ago, Bella no longer got up and could no longer eat her food. She too was put to sleep after serving my home so faithfully for 18 months.

This morning as I consider God’s presence in my life, I give thanks for these many wonderful gifts—the birds and the dogs—that He has given to me and my family.

As I’ve thought about them, I’ve had a tantalizing thought that I won’t know the answer to until I see Christ face to face: Will He restore them to me and my family in the new heaven and the new earth?

If so how will they all get along? Will Brandon and Pepper both be humble dogs?

Will Winston still be the champion tail-wagger of the group and Bella the wise empath?

Will Boston and Sandy and August beg me to go on adventures with them?

Will Bru want to chase seagulls and butterflies?

Will they meet a dog named Skunk? To read about Skunk, click on this link: The Angel and a Dog Named Skunk!

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[1] HIS EYE IS ON THE SPARROW (Wintley Phipps)