Prodigal Dog/Prodigal Me

Just as my husband and I were headed to the car for our weekly Praise Team practice, his service dog (who has become a pet instead of a working dog), took his chance to make a break, running out the door, through the open garage with his eyes on the farmer’s field behind our neighbor’s yard.

I was chasing after him and calling his name, but he had already made up his mind where he was going. I watched him wiggle his 80 lb. furry frame under the barbed wire fence that kept him from exploring the vast openness which he had so obviously predetermined to be his destination. It was quite evident that our clever service doggie had been plotting this great escape for who knows how long.

No amount of calling his name, offering treats, or sweet talk deterred him. He kept going across the field until he was just a black speck in the wide-open expanse.

Not knowing what to do, I texted our praise team leader to explain why we would not be on time, and to pray. I also called a neighbor friend to help.

I walked down the road, going through people’s yards trying to find him. Jon stood on our driveway making the sound with the leash that he does when it is time to go for a walk. I couldn’t tell which house would give me the best entry into the field, and since I was thinking I would have to crawl through barbed wire, I didn’t want to have to do it more than once. 

I circled back home and got a better view of which house it was, then headed on foot there again.  By this time, our friend was driving by. He stopped his car just as I spotted the dog. As soon as I called his name, he ran right over to me, tail wagging and happy as can be.

Embarrassed that I had dragged our friend over for nothing, angry that we were now a half an hour late for our Praise Team practice, I didn’t even want to speak to the dog.

Once we got to the church, I looked down at my shoes and saw how completely muddy they were. What this meant was when we got home, there would be muddy paw prints all over the white carpet (I did NOT choose white carpet and have no idea who in their right mind ever would).

I was still angry at the dog and hyped up from the adrenalin rush, but I did allow the music to bring me back to abiding in the vine once more.

The next day, I received some rather devastating news. I was overlooked for a full-time position that I would have loved to have had, and the course that I most love teaching as an adjunct has now been given to the new full-time hire.

I wanted to run away. Just like our prodigal dog. I wanted to sprint clear out of town, out of state, out of the country. I started to wallow into the self-pity trap, being reminded of all of the old lies that I thought were totally healed. “You aren’t enough”; “You don’t fit in”; You don’t measure up”; “Others can do this job better than you”; “Nobody likes me everybody hates me, going to the garden to eat worms… yada, yada, yada.”

But then, I remembered. I am not a prodigal. I am the daughter of the Most High! I am a Princess Warrior! I am the head and not the tail! I am His masterpiece, fearfully and wonderfully made! How could I ever forget?

So, like the dog, I returned to my senses, and obediently came home into the loving embrace of my Master.