Jose and My Handy Dandy Tool Kit

            This is Jose. You can’t see his little Chihuahua mutt face, yet what you see is truly representative of Jose. You see, Jose is an adventurer.

            When my daughter was in Mexico working with Adventures in Missions, she missed her dog. So she went in search of a dog to have away from home. She and a friend came upon Jose one hour before this sad little dog was to be put down. Who could resist a dog in a situation like that? Few, especially my daughter. When the dog sprinkled the sneaker of her friend, it seemed that it was a done deal.

            Such a life Jose lived that summer in Mexico! He ran wherever he wanted, chased neighborhood chickens, and stole tacos from a garbage pail. And he had someone to come home to and love him. Once, when I called my daughter, I asked where her dog was. “I don’t know. Out somewhere.” Then a few seconds later she gave me an update. “Oh, there he is, running through the grass. I see the tips of his ears.”

           

Jose the Adventurer

Life was good until Jose came stateside, and he had to retire as a runner.  Retire, that is, unless he gets a chance to dash away, carefree once again. The problem is that those who care about him aren’t carefree when he is. Once the animal shelter called, once a concerned neighbor, and once the pet hospital. Oh, Jose, could you just settle down and be like your sidekick Doodles? Why do you have to be like that?

            Recently my daughter thought special training would work, and it seemed to.  Nope. Jose broke free. That was when the pet hospital called.

            I’ve been thinking about Jose and people. He’s not unlike some people I know—challenging. I just wish Jose would stop being Jose, and I wish some people would be—well, different. Life might be easier. For whom?  Yes, I’ll admit it. For me. Do you have people like that in your life? I imagine I’m that person for at least someone.

            My daughter does need to protect Jose from himself. But I’m wondering if she just needs to accept the fact that that impish Chihuahua is always going to be a runner. That’s what he is, and he is unbelievably fast.  Maybe she just needs to accept that and always be prepared. She’ll have to decide.

            When it comes to people, I don’t get to decide. I don’t get to change people. Would you love to get out your people tool kit and fix those people around you?  Tempting, isn’t it? Yet I can’t think of any place where God says I get to fix people. He says I can love them, honor them, care for them, feed and clothe them, but he never says I get to change them.

            What he does say is that I can by his grace change myself. There is enough of that to do to keep me busy for the rest of my life. When someone changes significantly over time, do you pay attention to that? I do. It’s like someone losing a lot of weight. You notice one day that she is significantly smaller, and you sidle up to her and ask what she’s been doing. It’s like that when we change, too. We have influence because we’ve changed.

           I think I want to put away my people tool kit and work on changing me, with God’s help, of course. Then, perhaps unbeknownst to me, God will let me be influential in ways I would have never even thought of. Faith says, “Okay, I’ll let God do that.”