Tuka and the Fence

            She can’t help it. Really, she can’t. She’s a beagle, and beagles operate according to their noses. So Tuka acts exactly like a beagle should.

            Tuka’s nose is always “on” just like my husband’s sweet tooth is always in the “on” position. That’s how they live. For Tuka that means every walk is a stimulating adventure with endless possibilities for discovery. It could be a rabbit, another dog, a raccoon, a fox. Or it could be the delight of garbage! She’s always on the sniff for something. When she catches a scent, my daughter, Tuka’s owner, instantly gets pulled into the hunt as an unwilling sidekick, or incidental, as far as Tuka is concerned.

            A few weeks ago Tuka and her sidekick visited us, and Tuka got to investigate the backyard. Quickly the outing became a hunt. We have a menagerie traversing our yard, and Tuka could smell it, and the place she liked best was the hole in the fence where she could straddle the world of our yard and the world of the other side just like the neighborhood cat, squirrels, and rabbits do. The only problem for Tuka was that her sidekick became her master and kept her from going to the other side of the fence.

            And then Tuka was truly Tuka the Beagle. She threw her head back and howled the unmistakable howl of a beagle.

           

           Lately, in a few ways, I’ve been like my four-footed friend, Tuka. When you become a Christian your life changes drastically. Your viewpoint is different, and your purpose and destination are transformed. For me, that sometimes makes living here a challenge that wears on me because this is no longer home. I’m only a nomad. Recently I’ve felt a profound sadness envelop me. At first I couldn’t explain it, but then I realized how all the “smells” of my life hadn’t been as delightful as they are for my friend Tuka; they were painful, distressing smells of sin, decay, and works of God’s enemy. I felt like I was stuck in the fence and howling just like the beagle in my backyard. Only my howling was from the pain—pain from what’s wrong, what God hates, what should be different.

            My Master had to pull me back, too. He had to remind me AGAIN that he isn’t dead, asleep, lethargic, inept, or anything other than being in control. Then he let me catch my breath from my “howling,” set me back on my feet again, and sent me out to work in the messed-up world we live in. Why? Because he uses us to reconcile the world to him. It’s smelly. It’s heartbreaking at times. And, as I look back, whenever I get stuck in the fence and howl like Tuka, he rescues me from myself and reminds me who he is so I can go on.

            Sometimes Tuka is sadly disappointed in her adventures, but no matter how difficult things are now, we will win in Christ. That is indisputable!