The Orphan
We have a new resident in the house these days. She will have been here two weeks tomorrow. Like any newcomer who gets grafted into a family, in their own unique way, they bring disruption to the routine and flow of things. There are adjustments that need to be made. Schedules might have to change. Routines might have to be altered. Space might need to be rearranged. Relationships, de facto, might be affected by the new addition. And sometimes when an orphan is brought into a home, the pitiful waif can be a constant reminder of the tragedy or trauma that left them in such a condition.
On top of that, no refugee can totally leave everything behind when they go to start a new life somewhere. It’s hard to leave culture, history, experience, tradition and other baggage behind. The material things can be abandoned but the very nature of who we are and where we’ve been and whose we’ve been can’t be altered or erased very well.
I ‘m sitting here this morning starring at my mother’s dog Maggie. Mom passed away just a few days ago. I think one of the things holding her here was just her wanting to make sure that Maggie was going to assimilate into our family okay.
So here’s Maggie: a 12 year old mutt. She’s part beagle and part something else; supposedly Chihuahua. She has bad breathe, crooked teeth, came to us un-housebroken, and has that hound dog kind of heavy oily smell to her skin. She’s so ugly that she's sort of cute; She’s not the first pick for someone like me who loves Jack Russell’s. She is a real ragamuffin in every sense of the word.
Before she came here she spent 6 weeks at a boarding kennel while mom went from one hospital to the next. Maggie lost a lot of weight in that time, which really was good for her health. Mom had a bad habit of feed her all the wrong stuff and had her grossly obese.
Our other dog, CoCo, a three year old Jack Russell mix, has been tolerant of her, occasionally expressing some jealousy. Over all though, their new relationship seems to be symbiotic: it’s good for both them to have company as they have both been isolated from the rest of the dog world and, be it good or bad, Maggie has learned to bark, jump and even run a little bit. It’s been quite the awakening for her.
But there she lies quietly this morning on the old towel that is now her corner of the kitchen. She’s looking a little lost and sad as I stare at her. Truly we didn’t want another dog in the family right now, but out of charity and honor for mom, we took her in. She has attached herself to me without my solicitation. She whimpers when I leave and has begun to assimilate in her own way, Coco’s celebration dance that “daddy’s home.”
She will be a constant living reminder of my mom for the rest of her days. I’m sure when Maggie passes some day it will be a time to grieve mom’s passing one more time. But, I’m finding this morning that she’s more than a reminder of mom: she is at the moment a reminder of how we should live reflecting God’s grace.
Weren’t we in the same condition when we came to know how unconditionally God loves us? Pitiful orphaned sinners that we are with our bad breath, crooked teeth and smelly skin, God allows us into the kingdom by His grace and by His mercy.
Through His son Jesus there is a way provided for all us ragamuffins to be a child of God. And as followers of Jesus, are we not called to a new life in Christ? One in which we are called to see the world as God sees it: offering love to the un-loveable, charity to the destitute and providing a seat at the table for those who would find it no where else.
In the stillness of a quiet summer Sunday morning I am flooded with God’s presence. Welcome Maggie, to the little kingdom that is part of the greater Kingdom. It is by grace you have been saved . . . just like us.
2 Samuel Chapter 9
