I woke up this morning to a husband moving through the house frantically. As I pried my tired eyes open, I saw he was throwing on clothes instead of jumping in the shower as is his normal routine.
Even though he said a lot of words all I heard was, "...Giz got out and I have to find him." Seconds later my feet hit the floor and carried me out the back door.
A quick scan of the neighbor's yards and I saw nothing. A couple shouts for my little "Gizzy" and "Big Boy" still brought nothing.
I had no idea how long he had been out and was starting to get a little panicky. Mentally, I was reminding myself to not panic. Panic for me can turn into an attack which would render me useless in a search for Giz.
It was clear he had gone further than I had hoped. Kent went to grab his keys and I took off walking. I'm sure I looked like the walking dead with wild hair, in my mismatched pjs and socks with sandals.
I headed down the street looking every direction. Most of our neighbors have fences that are closed. Their dogs didn't stir and bark until I walked past. That seemed to be a sign that he hadn't gone my direction.
Kent headed around the block the opposite direction. My heart sank as I approached the busier main street through our neighborhood. I prayed I wouldn't find him on the street or hurt, but that I would find him. I passed a woman out for a walk, who said she would keep an eye out for him. She also said she hadn't seem him on her walk two blocks the opposite direction.
I made it around to the next block and jumped in the truck with Kent. I think it was the first time I started to tear up. As we turned onto the busier street, I saw a truck headed toward us. A little closer to us, I saw my little guy dart across the street a half block away.
He disappeared behind some bushes as we drove up the street. As we pulled in front of the house, I saw him heading up to the front door. I think he knew he was lost and was checking out front doors to see if someone would let him in or help him.
I jumped out of the truck, literally. I don't think Kent had come to a stop before my feet hit the ground. I yelled to the dog and he came running. I picked him up and took my first full breath in 20 minutes. He let out a grunt and danced around the truck.
I'm not sure who was happier, me or him. He ran through the house, got a drink, ate and then slept for the next four hours. Woohoo!
We thought the gusty wind had blown open our fence. When I went out with them at lunch time, the gate was open again. Not just blown open but opened far enough to be stuck on a lump of dirt and the wind wasn't gusty. It makes me wonder if someone hadn't opened the door on purpose, which has happened before.
Needless to say, I was elated to have all my pups back home and safe. I won't soon forget that frantic feeling and the great relief I felt when he ran straight into my arms.
As we pulled into the driveway, I had one thought...
I wonder if God is that happy when we run back to Him after being gone for so long. I wonder who is happier, us or Him. I wonder if He patiently waits for us while we search frantically for something to hang onto. Hmmm....
No comments:
Post a Comment