A Loving Father

The longer I have Labs in my life, the more I understand God as a Loving Father. I have a porch that is elevated above my fenced in back yard. I love to stand there watching my Labradors as they go about their business in the safe haven I have created for them. I smile as I watch them swimming in their little pool, licking each other, running, laying in the cool grass, sniffing, chewing, watching the birds, or yes, even digging. I love when they love each other's company. I rejoice in even their minor accomplishments, and revel in their individual preferences, habits, and differences. I even enjoy their more rudimentary requirements, like sleeping, eating food, drinking water, taking a bath, or even when they finally go pee when I know they have to! I watch and care for them with tender affection, as God must watch us.

I provide for them without them asking, and they trust I always will. They do not question where their food, shelter, water, or medical care will come from. I mark them with my number so that if they are lost they can be identified as belonging to me-- that they are mine. I reward them with treats for good behavior and I challenge them to learn new tasks because I can see their potential. I watch them always, even when they don't think I do. And although it pains me, I discipline them when they do bad, so that they may learn. I sometimes leave them alone so they grow in character or restrain them for their own good, so that they don't harm themselves. They think I am far away from them, or mean or cruel, but I am none of these things. I love them, no matter how they feel. And I see how when they obey my commandments, they are at their happiness.

But, ultimately, they have free will. They sometimes think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. They find an open door, or create one, and they roam outside my care. They encounter things they don't understand: filth, poor health, true hunger, cold nights, mean people and more danger than they've ever known. And I am saddened to know they are not with me. I worry; I send others looking for them. I call them by name.

They are always found. For some unlucky ones, they are not found until the very, bitter end, when it is almost too late. They are found starved, beaten and bruised - in ill health. But they come home. I mourn their passing, and think back on their life and know others were happier or even made better when they were with me. But for my two, when they come home I welcome them with shouts of joy, and sometimes tears, with pats, hugs and kisses. I embrace them, and give them the finest food. I bathe, comb and brush them. I call everyone to say, "they are found!" I tell everyone I meet, "they've come home!"

Yes, loving is the same no matter on what level is is done: be it God looking down on us, or us upon the life that's in our care. Love is love, and we are better for it. When I watch my Labradors I understand God is a Loving Father.