He Rests

Most moments, at Charlie’s older age, he rests.  Finding the coziest spot in the sun as it moves around the house, Charlie will shift, stretch, and adjust wherever the beams fall.  He’s not constantly nipping at my ankles or tearing up some precious thing, in fact, this very moment he has gathered his personal fleece blankie in a proper nest upon my bed, a full level and three rooms away.  Sometimes, the garage door will open and still he rests upon his nest, seemingly oblivious.  Maybe he doesn’t hear us, maybe he trusts us finally. He knows by now that we’ll come find him if he doesn’t offer a door greeting. That’s relationship, I suppose.  The see-saw balance of me coming to him and him coming to me. Me trusting that he’ll find me if he needs anything, whether it’s food or a touch. I know he’s there, I can rise and find him for comfort if needed and he will seek me out for the things he needs. This relationship isn’t a dictatorship where I  dictate the rules and schedules and requirements (although, I admit some days I childishly wear that hat), instead, it’s a friendship.  I care for his needs because I care for him.  I want to take care of him because I love him. (yes, Tim, I do love Charlie). I don’t want to overlook him for the entire day not only because I know there’ll be a big cleanup but also because I care for his presence. I want him to feel loved, I want him to be the best dog he was built to become.  Where is God and where am I in this parallel?  I’m not exactly positive if He’s the dog or the human here…maybe both. He both rests and interacts, He loves and receives our love. He comes to me and waits for me to come to Him. All of the above and more. This I know…it’s relationship, not a dictatorship.  He’s not a bossy, finger-pointing, demeaning, condemning, heartless, loof… He rests content, likely in the sun, in a fluffy nest, waiting for us to find Him and gently nudging us if it's been too long.