Saturday, November 15, 2008

Deep.

I love the way you watch me from across the room, intently and lovingly. I love the way you always choose to snuggle right next to me after passing by everyone in the hall. And most of all, I love the way you sit by me, utterly content, and how you fall asleep next to my skin.


Somedays, in the midst of busyness where you're too tired to chat and too overwhelmed to entertain, and yet yearning for love, all you want is just a bit of quiet companionship. Undemanding, quiet companionship. And I'm so thankful that at the end of a busy day, I can come back and find you waiting for me.


Not many people know about you.





That's my dog, Roger. We got him 6 years ago. Back then, my ambition was to be a naturalist-veterinarian.





He never was an easy child. He'd fall sick often, succumb to the worst of skin rashes and run loose like a crazy madman, uncontrollable, whenever you let him into the living room. And when visitors came, he'd grab the thigh of an unsuspecting victim and try to hump it. And it'd take nothing less than Herculean strength to pry him away. He still takes part in this embarassing sport today, unfortunately.



My parents pay for his expenses, Daddy feeds him and monitors his health religiously, walking him whenever he can, my sister loves to spend time with him whenever she returns from overseas, and my maid bathes him and takes him on daily walks in the park.



Yet, when we're all in a room together, me studying as usual, it is me you snuggle up to, while everyone else claps their hands, yells out commands and calls your name for your attention, for a morsel of your love. You toss your ears back in disdain and sit at my feet. I say "sit" and your response is immediate. For hours, you are immovable.



And it sounds stupid, to tell you I love you, but I don't know how else to name this feeling, because is this not love that you have shown me? This undeserving love. I hardly even look after you much, save that one major episode you fell so ill and I had to shuttle you to and fro from the vet's, bathe you twice a day, and you were so ill that I cried and fell ill too. That was a long time ago, you still remember?



Going out of the house is the highlight of your day. Whenever our maid holds your leash, you explode with glee and scamper around in circles, prancing and dancing from side to side. You can't wait, and you're not afraid to show it. Sometimes, you even dash out of the house before she's ready. But just yesterday, when you were all ready to go out, and the door was wide open, you caught a glimpse of me studying and sat under my chair. She called you, time and again, and you completely ignored her. "Roger, it's your time out? Don't you want to go?" I asked.



Going out is everything to Roger- you should see him go berserk when he sees the leash. She called him, over and over, but he sat there, immovable and leaned into my legs. She had to drag him away from me to get him out of the house.





I don't know why, but that moment pierced something deep inside of me. I've done nothing to deserve such loyalty, done nothing to deserve such undivided love, attention and faithfulness. And as stupid as it sounds, I was touched.



You're just a dog. I won't even see you in heaven.



And yet, in you, I think I saw a glimpse, a tiny fraction of truth which mirrored God's love for me, for us, too. I don't even bathe you, or walk you, or feed you. Though yes, I did take you for training lessons, bring you to the vet's, care for you when you were a tiny tot. Don't I fall short as an owner in so many ways.


Similarly, I've made so many mistakes, the same ones, over and over, said so many wrong things, made so many wrong judgements, been so proud, self-centred in so many ways. Though yes, I do make a conscious effort to spend time with You every day. Don't I fall short in so many ways.



And yet... You still love me, same as before. And You make me feel special, adored, loved because you are Captivated by me, by each of us.





However underserving we may be of it.





And so every time we let you into the house from your dog pen and you rush straight into my room to look for me, I am reminded of this grace I have received, this undeserved, un-earned love I have received from God, that is wide, long, high and deep, because of what He did for me, for us.





I love you too, Roger.



"... how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ..."
-Ephesians 3:18b

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