Neurotic Dogs, Rotten Squirrels, and the Path of Christ (Re-Visited)

[IN MEMORY OF OUR BELOVED MAYA WHO DIED A YEAR AGO TODAY]

Her claws would click lightly on the worn linoleum of our kitchen floor whenever she sensed a familiar foe just outside the door. Her nose pressed stealthily through the rubber flap of the dog door, giving her a clear view of her target. The rest of her body remained inside, motionless, rigid, and ready. Her tail pointed straight as an arrow while her foe pretended not to notice her. Oh, he saw her, but he arrogantly continued chewing his acorn. “How dare you?!” she said with a growl. Or, at least, I imagined her saying this if she could.

Then, like a rocket, she launched through the door in pursuit of the squirrel. He darted away, acorn firmly tucked in his cheek, and up the playground ladder. Maya arrived a split second too late. She barked at the bottom of the ladder as he, once again, made the impossible leap from the playground to the top of the privacy fence and out of sight. After a few more barks, Maya (our neurotic boxer/beagle/pit bull hybrid) returned to the patio. She flopped down with an exasperated harrumph and said, “I’ll get you someday, you rotten, no-good squirrel!” Or, that’s what I imagined was the meaning of her harrumph.

This chase happened often. Sometimes, the other dogs followed Maya’s lead and joined in, but it was mostly between her and the squirrel. It happened enough that she wore a path down the center of our yard, where she chased in pursuit. Every time she darted out, she took the same route to the back of the yard, wearing the grass down a little more each time. But it wasn't just when she chased her old foe, the squirrel. She took that path every time she went out while the other dogs followed.

My path in life isn’t always so direct. I often veer off course. I’ve taken lots of twists and turns. Some have been purposeful, others forced. Some happened after careful thought and planning. Others just happened. I get bored when everything stays the same. I like change and fresh adventures. Maybe that’s why I made another significant career change in my 50s.

As much as I love change, adventure, and new experiences, I also need a familiar path to always orient myself. I need something I can always return to when I’m lost. I need something that reminds me of my identity as everything else changes. For me, this steady path is my faith. My faith has taken many twists and turns with the rest of me. It doesn’t look the same as it did just a few years ago; my experience won’t allow it. I struggle to identify with some people I supposedly share a faith with. Sometimes, I’m embarrassed to be called a Christian if it means being associated with a hate-filled, homophobic, racist, gun-worshiping, conspiracy-believing crowd. But I AM a Christian. That is my well-worn path, which I intend to stay on. Christ is who I am chasing. That sounds weird. Christ isn’t running away shouting, “Haha! You can’t catch me!” But Christ is on the move. Christ is at work in the world. Christ is the path I always want to come back to when I wander off. The way of Christ is the well-worn ground I want to follow.