It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Our little Soft-Coated Wheaten Terrier puppy Rosie had grown to her full size and was becoming a handful for Joan and me.
Yes, a fuzzy, lovable, cute handful. But a handful nonetheless.
We decided that instead of trying to match her level of playful puppiness stride for stride we would try to find Rosie a canine companion.
Ideally, this companion would be a neutered male Wheaten… approximately the same age as Rosie. Finding exactly that dog was a long shot at best, but as providence would have it, the breeder we bought Rosie from was about to retire Rosie’s daddy Patrick from sire service and was seeking a friendly family home for him.
[Theological side-note: I am really not convinced that God spends a lot of time engineering the connections of people and their pets. But it did all fall together pretty smoothly for us, so why not hand out a little Divine credit?]
Adding Patrick to the family has been exactly the remedy we were looking for. Rosie and her daddy get along famously and romp and play with each other in the back yard to the point of exhaustion.
But here in the last week, Joan and I have woken up to an inescapable fact about life with TWO dogs as opposed to ONE: it complicates things.
We have to keep track of two different immunization schedules. We have to buy twice as much dog food and pay twice the vet bills. We have to find house- and dog-sitters that are willing to watch over two animals instead of just one. We have to double our vigilance at the off-leash dog park. We have to wash double the number of muddy footprints from the carpet after a rain. And when it comes to bath time… well, you can just imagine what that is like with two active, energetic dogs.
In fact, right after bath time this past Saturday, Joan and I very nearly looked at each other and asked, “Was it really a good idea to bring a second dog into our home?”
But then something stopped us right at the brink of asking the question. I don’t think either of us wanted to go where that question might have taken us.
We probably refrained from asking the question because we have become quite fond of our Patrick.
But we also might have stopped short because we have never said that a simple, uncomplicated life is one of the goals we are pursuing.
It is also possible that we didn’t ask the question because we each remembered those times in our lives when increasing life’s complications has also led us to increased joy.
Any parent who has gone from one child to two (or from zero to one, for that matter) knows exactly what I am talking about.
David Brooks, in his latest book, The Second Mountain, makes a distinction between happiness and joy. Happiness, which he says is mostly a temporary and situational state, and is about expanding the self. Joy – a much more durable and lasting commodity – is about surrendering the self. Or in the words of Jesus, “ No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13, NRSV).
Brooks goes on to say that two of the things that open us more fully to a life of joy are our CONNECTIONS and our COMMITMENTS… connections to other people, to our community, and to our souls… and the steadfastness of our commitments to abide with each of those.
All of which – I feel compelled to add – sounds like the exact opposite of living a simple, uncomplicated life.
Still, I am reluctant to draw the conclusion that our choice is between a life that is simple, neat, tidy, uncomplicated and joyless or the life that is connected, committed, messy, complex, and full of joy.
I know it is not that cut-and-dried. The lives of the desert mothers and desert fathers demonstrate the great joy to be found in extreme simplicity.
For now, I think I will just stick with drawing the conclusion that bringing Patrick into our lives – muddy paws and all – was a good move after all.
Bow wow.
I love you.
The chain came off my bike the other day.
Settling in, I was struck by how quiet and calm it all was.
I live in the Midwestern part of the U.S.
I preach change all the time.
Worship is weird.
Pat made a mistake.
I almost missed him, and thereby, his invitation.
Russellings of the Spirit 