Sunday, September 1, 2019
Lessons:
Jeremiah 2:4-13, Psalm 81:1, 10-16,
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16, Luke 14:1, 7-14
We arrived at the campground on a Monday evening two weeks ago. We like arriving on a Sunday or a Monday and camping mid-week because the State Parks are generally quieter.
This time around, we did not pre-select our campsite. Instead, we drove around the campground, looking for the “perfect” space for our pop-up camper. We found the one we wanted. And our nearest neighbor was three campsites away. A man and his dog in a tent.
It didn’t take long before we realized this man was likely
homeless. He rarely left his tent. Employees from the park would stop in and
check on him and he didn’t seem to be eating.
On Wednesday, Jeff and I decided to invite him to
dinner. We had three pork chops for the
grill and it was unlikely we would eat them all.
I walked over to his tent and asked him if he was
hungry. He said he was. He told me he was homeless and that he was
waiting to hear if he would be in a shelter the following week. His dog was nearby. He said, “I have to get rid of my dog.”
You see, the shelter would not take both of them.
I asked him if he wanted me to bring him a plate or if he
would like to join us. He chose to come
to our campsite and join us.
He smelled funny and he walked funny. He didn’t put on a shirt. His little dog was on a leash, but the dog
didn’t need him to hold it, so it trailed him as they came over.
The dog was a tiny little thing. I asked about the dog. What kind is he? He thought he was a Jack Russell Terrier.
I have friends from seminary who rescue dogs, so I knew I
had a resource to help, so I asked if he wanted help finding a good home for
the dog. He said yes.
Then, I asked, “What’s the dog’s name?”
He replied, “Hot Dog.”
Well, that was perfect.
My friends have a bunch of dogs and all of them have food names. I was pretty certain I had found a home for
this little guy.
I sent a message to my friend.
“Hi, I’m camping with Jeff and we are having dinner with a
homeless man who has a Jack Russell he has to part with, named…Hot Dog. Can you help?”
I sent two pictures.
“How old?” She asked.
“Maybe 8?"
“Maybe 8?"
“He looks like a rat terrier,
not a Jack. Friendly?”
“Very.”
“Damn. You know I want old ratties. You suck.” Winkie face.
“Very.”
“Damn. You know I want old ratties. You suck.” Winkie face.
And so it began.
While this was happening, Jeff was getting to know our new
friend. His name is Thomas. He is recently homeless. His mother died when she was 50 and he is
still grieving. He was born with Spina
Bifida, and in recent years, had his right leg amputated below the knee. He has a prosthesis.
No wonder he walked funny.
He told us his mom gave his sister up for adoption when she
realized how much help he was going to need.
He and his sister recently reconnected and they talk frequently.
My friend asked for his name. When I responded with “His name is Thomas,
that’s as far as we’ve gotten.” My
friend responded, “You don’t need a last name to make a new friend.”
“That’s true.” I responded.
We had dinner together, learning more about his story. He smiled.
He ate well. He appreciated a hot,
healthy meal. People had been bringing
him non-perishable food from the dollar store, so meat, rice and fresh
vegetables were probably a nice change.
We talked about the raccoons that had come to visit us the
night before. How bold one was, sneaking
up under the table, nearly walking through Jeff’s legs before I caught sight
and gasped. How one walked right up to
my foot and leapt back when I wiggled my toe.
How one got on the table to check out the box with the s’mores
makings. Then, when Jeff left me alone
at our campsite, I turned around to see at least four of them walking toward me
from under and around the camper.
Thomas was fascinated, and uncomfortable at the same
time. He wanted to see them, but he
didn’t want to see them at the same time.
We were sitting around the fire, getting ready to have
s’mores. Thomas was on the phone with
his sister, telling her he had never had a s’more before. Unfortunately, it began to rain, so we went
to our respective lodging for the night.
The next day I told Jeff I didn’t think we had enough food
for Thomas to join us for dinner. But
when it came time to eat, Thomas and Hot Dog joined us again. We had s’mores that night! And the raccoons visited us, too.
Hot Dog really took to us.
But he also really stuck around Thomas.
They had been together for about six months. Hot Dog had been Thomas’ aunt’s dog, but she
had to let him go because there were too many dogs in the house. I could tell that while Thomas knew he needed
to part with Hot Dog, he really didn’t want to.
He was happy to know that I had found Hot Dog a home where
he would be safe and well cared for. And
my friends were getting ready to welcome Hot Dog into their pack. We were getting ready to do something we had
never done before. We were going to
rescue a dog. We might even have rescued
his human.
There is some key information I didn’t share. My friends live in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. They have six dogs and six cats. Jeff and I were committing to driving this
dog from Albion, Indiana to Naperville, Illinois to meet one of the dogs in the
pack and one of the humans who would be taking Hot Dog into their home.
It wasn’t a banquet by any means.
It was pork chops, Rice-a-Roni and fresh vegetables. The next day it was sausages, generic boxed
macaroni and cheese and the rest of the vegetables. Simple food served on a faded red and white
checkered plastic tablecloth on a worn wooden picnic table.
While it wasn’t a feast either night, there was still
hierarchy.
It wasn’t a Sabbath meal, but we were taking time for
respite.
We didn’t make the lame walk. But we might have healed him in another way.
He could not repay us.
He cannot invite us in return.
And I don’t know whether we helped an angel unawares.
But hopefully, we provided him with respite, with comfort,
with the ability to easily move into a homeless shelter when space will open up
for him.
When we took Hot Dog on Friday afternoon from his tent,
Thomas had tears in his eyes.
I promised him I would send him pictures of the exchange
with my friends. I needed him to know
that we did what we said we would do.
When I sent those pictures he wrote back saying, “I miss my
hotdog but I’m glad he got a good home.”
And he does have a good home. He’s already been to obedience school and to
the vet. He has found his space on the
bed at night, he’s exploring his backyard and he’s playing well with his new
doggie family. He is part of their
family, or, as they call it, their “pack.”
I haven’t heard if Thomas is in the shelter yet. I pray that he is soon. He really wants to get back on his feet and
make changes in his life.
I’m not sure we’ll ever rescue a dog again. But I am sure that God was with all of us in
those few days. We were supposed to camp
in that spot, near Thomas. We had food
to share. We had resources to help.
That’s what it’s all about, folks. Opening our doors, setting places at our
tables, allowing our hearts to welcome others, not because we expect anything
in return, but because it is what Jesus would do.
Let us pray. Heavenly Father, we pray especially today
for Thomas and all those who are homeless.
We pray for shelters and their volunteers and their staff. We pray for food pantry clients, employees
and volunteers. We pray for animal
rescuers and shelters. We pray for those
who will open their hearts, their wallets, their car windows and their homes to
those who need support. We pray for
ourselves, that we may recognize the ways we can help others and then act and
help. Thank you for Hot Dog and all pets
that help us learn what unconditional love can do when we open ourselves to the
comfort and joy each pet brings. We
thank you, Jesus, for teaching us how to welcome others into our lives. Amen.