My poor Lucy. She had chewed the fur off a spot in her leg and now bare skin was exposed. I sensed there were going to be physical consequences if left unattended, so our vet gave me an alcohol spray to spritz on the area twice daily.
The first night I sat on the floor and called her over, spray in hand. When she sat beside me, I aimed the medicine at the bare spot and squeezed the trigger. As it hit her skin, she jumped and pulled in closer to me. Knowing I didn't get enough on, I sprayed it again, and this time the pain was so great that she pressed into me hard enough to knock me off balance.
And if she hadn't knocked me off balance, the sheer irony of the situation would have.
You see, I was the one currently responsible for causing her pain.
But because of our relationship, she knew she could trust me and sought to find comfort in me.
It blew me away. Instead of running from me, she sought my protection. Instead of lashing out, she drew closer. Instead of blaming me, she wanted my love.
I thought about what I do when I sense that God is allowing some pain to pass through His hands and into my life. I realize that I
run the other way,
let Him know that this is not part of my plan,
usually have a hard time cozying up to Him because I now feel life is unfair; this should not be happening to me.
I don't usually body slam into Him for comfort, love and protection.
But according to my dog, that's exactly what I'm supposed to do.
And once I'm there close to His side, God will do for me exactly what I did for Lucy that night - put His arms around me, tell me He's so sorry but this present pain is indeed necessary, and stick right beside me until the hurt starts to diminish.
And show me that a healed wound is better than an open one.
Posted by Beth Coulton