Pain Management

The day my dog Buffy died, I shut down.


It was a summer afternoon and I was playing in the front yard.  My dog had decided a few weeks before that he would be able to catch a car tire if he tried hard enough.  He was persistent even though we yelled at him.  I'm pretty sure he would not have known what to do with it if he caught it.


A teenage guy in a jeep hit him.  I looked up as Buff flew through the air and then I ran over screaming as my dog lay in the middle of the road.  He was taking his last few breaths as he died in my arms.  I cried really hard.  It still hurts to think about it.


I don't remember ever wanting a dog again.  Even now, as my son is getting older, I think about him having a dog.  Every little boy needs a dog.  But I don't want him to have one because I don't want him to experience his dog dying.  I want to shelter him from the pain of losing something he loves.  So if I can shelter him...and me...from ever loving, then I can shelter him from the pain of losing.


That sounds healthy enough doesn't it?  Don't engage in relationships because if you do, you might get hurt.  


In my current life, I am planting a church.  I hear from smart people that this kind of thing is a strain on relationships.  "People who start with you don't stay with you," they always say.  I begin to posture so that when it happens, I can be numb to the pain.  It feels like getting a dog.  


I need hope in the gospel so that I am free to invest in people in spite of the pain and disappointment. 


And I think we need a dog.