Missing Dog experience:
Recently my sonís dogs ran away. We live in the country where
dogs often get the urge to travel to foreign lands on their own. Roger
came back that night but Joshís Ko-Hai did not show up. (Ko-Hai
is Korean for "one in service to a Master.") Days of tramping through the woods
calling Ko-Haiís name ended with no dog.
The rule of thumb around here is that if you canít find them by
the end of the second day, then itís up to the dog to find his way home. Many
times, we never know what has happened to them. You kind of accept they are gone
for good and at the same time keep one ear tuned for a familiar bark. An uneasy
alliance of truth and hope.
Five years ago, my husband (David) lost a special dog. Every
once in a while, he still thinks he has seen her running through the woods. It
was hard for him to see our son going through the same experience. He could see
that Josh would get all heavy when asked about Ko-Hai, so David left it that he
wouldnít ask any more but to be sure and let him know if Ko-Hai returned.
Well, two and half weeks later, Ko-Hai did return. Thin and
raggily looking but at their door. Such a delight and upswing in energy as the
weight of loss is transformed. Son and dog are happily together again.
You canít always expect the logical thing to happen - you have
to leave room for the unexpected. You canít push and shove the improbable into
place but you donít have to close and lock all the doors and windows either.
Where in your life can you leave room for the improbable and
unexpected miracle to happen?
Mary Ann Copson