Usually at this time of night, I would be turning off the TV, closing down the screen of my laptop and noticing Sam lift his head from his little "dog nest" and look at me with those eyes that say "is this it?" Then "it" would be moving from my office to having a little time as I perched on the hearth of our fireplace. I sat. He was petted near my feet or with my feet. Sam settled in and so did I for a time, a time of quiet and a time of peace, a time of sitting, and a time of doing not much of anything. Oh, my Sam.
When I think of "dogs," I think of the dogs we have loved and lived with and cared for -- Sheba, Molly, and Sam. The dogs in our homes have been indulged, fed lavish meals at the ending of their days, bathed in human bathtubs, and on their own and sometimes unbeknownst to us they settled into the coziest places in our homes.
They have trembled at the approaching storms and climbed into our laps for comfort. They have ignored intruders. They have run away from us (because there is such a world out there to explore!!) and then quickly jumped into Earl's truck as we went looking for them and they were looking for the next adventure.
Oh, these dogs of ours. Our life would not be the same without them.
In the gospel reading for this coming Sunday, Jesus speaks to the "dogs." The dogs are cared for and fed.
We are dogs who are fed at the Table of the Lord.
Who else shall we invite close to the Table of the Lord?
Heading to the hearth.