I had just stumbled through the back door from an all-night flight in the spring of 2011 when I noticed something was amiss with Hannah. Normally she would celebrate my arrival with a wild, exuberant, spinning dance accompanied by a vibrating, thumping tail. This time, her greeting was subdued, her gait slow, and her soulful eyes dull.
Joni and I immediately knew that something was wrong. Even though she seemed slightly better as the day wore on, we made an appointment with the vet just to make sure.
A suspicious growth on her spleen and fluid in her stomach signaled a grim prognosis. On Monday morning, we went to a specialist who confirmed the diagnosis. Dr. Carmenn Woolley explained the sad options we faced. Hannah had a splenic tumor which, given her age, would likely be malignant.
Our choices were less than optimal. Without surgery, Hannah’s tumor would rupture and bleed out and she would likely die within days or even sooner. With the surgery, she would still face an uncertain future, especially if the tumor was malignant. We could be talking a matter of weeks. The surgery was very expensive with no guarantees.
Still, a recent tax refund had given us the rare luxury of money to spend as we wished. Joni had a list of projects far more extensive than the refund would cover, and she had been trying to decide which project topped the list. That night we discussed the new reality. We could just try to keep our canine friend comfortable, or we could use the refund for Hannah’s surgery and give her a fighting chance.
Two days later, I picked her up from the Lake Ray Hubbard Emergency Pet Care Center after a successful surgery. So much for the new furniture, house painting, or landscaping. In place of those things, we got a dog friend with a twelve-inch incision on her belly and the hope of some sweet time to say good-bye.
Even after surgery, Hannah’s diagnosis was ominous. Splenic hemangiosarcoma. It was a horrible-sounding disease with an even worse prognosis. Without chemotherapy, the survival predictions were nineteen to sixty days. Six months would be a miracle. Dr. Woolley showed great compassion as tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. The doctor’s eyes grew misty as she shared one of the most painful duties of her job. She handed me a tissue, put her hand on my arm, and quietly said something. Since I was still reeling from the shock of everything that had happened so quickly, her words didn’t sink in until later.
“Hannah does not know she is sick. Dogs have no fear of death, so they live in the moment. Enjoy each moment that you have.”
I thought about that comment a lot in the days to come.
Dogs have no fear of death so they live in the moment. Isn’t that a blueprint for how followers of Christ should live on a daily basis? I had been a Christian for more than thirty years and had not figured out such a succinct philosophy of living. Satan wants us to live in regret of the past and fear of the future, preventing us from contentment in the moment with our God and with those we love.
I began to learn that part of being content on the journey with Jesus is simply trusting Him one day at a time. You can’t live in regret of the past. It is forgiven. You can’t live in fear of the future. It is in God’s hands. Without regret or fear you are free to live in the moment. Or as C. S. Lewis put it, “Where, except in the present, can the Eternal be met?”
Jesus proclaimed that exact message in the Gospel of Matthew.
“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?”
Matthew 6:25-27
It was true. Worrying would not add a single moment to my life or my sweet canine friend. The treatment gave us many months of extra time. And I began the journey of living in the moment thanks to the example of Hannah.
It is now my daily pursuit to trust God and savor each precious day.
A Life Lesson from My Labrador
Dave BurchettOne of the most valuable spiritual lessons from my rescued Labrador Hannah was the genesis of my book Stay.
I had just stumbled through the back door from an all-night flight in the spring of 2011 when I noticed something was amiss with Hannah. Normally she would celebrate my arrival with a wild, exuberant, spinning dance accompanied by a vibrating, thumping tail. This time, her greeting was subdued, her gait slow, and her soulful eyes dull.
Joni and I immediately knew that something was wrong. Even though she seemed slightly better as the day wore on, we made an appointment with the vet just to make sure.
A suspicious growth on her spleen and fluid in her stomach signaled a grim prognosis. On Monday morning, we went to a specialist who confirmed the diagnosis. Dr. Carmenn Woolley explained the sad options we faced. Hannah had a splenic tumor which, given her age, would likely be malignant.
Our choices were less than optimal. Without surgery, Hannah’s tumor would rupture and bleed out and she would likely die within days or even sooner. With the surgery, she would still face an uncertain future, especially if the tumor was malignant. We could be talking a matter of weeks. The surgery was very expensive with no guarantees.
Still, a recent tax refund had given us the rare luxury of money to spend as we wished. Joni had a list of projects far more extensive than the refund would cover, and she had been trying to decide which project topped the list. That night we discussed the new reality. We could just try to keep our canine friend comfortable, or we could use the refund for Hannah’s surgery and give her a fighting chance.
Two days later, I picked her up from the Lake Ray Hubbard Emergency Pet Care Center after a successful surgery. So much for the new furniture, house painting, or landscaping. In place of those things, we got a dog friend with a twelve-inch incision on her belly and the hope of some sweet time to say good-bye.
Even after surgery, Hannah’s diagnosis was ominous. Splenic hemangiosarcoma. It was a horrible-sounding disease with an even worse prognosis. Without chemotherapy, the survival predictions were nineteen to sixty days. Six months would be a miracle. Dr. Woolley showed great compassion as tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. The doctor’s eyes grew misty as she shared one of the most painful duties of her job. She handed me a tissue, put her hand on my arm, and quietly said something. Since I was still reeling from the shock of everything that had happened so quickly, her words didn’t sink in until later.
“Hannah does not know she is sick. Dogs have no fear of death, so they live in the moment. Enjoy each moment that you have.”
I thought about that comment a lot in the days to come.
Dogs have no fear of death so they live in the moment. Isn’t that a blueprint for how followers of Christ should live on a daily basis? I had been a Christian for more than thirty years and had not figured out such a succinct philosophy of living. Satan wants us to live in regret of the past and fear of the future, preventing us from contentment in the moment with our God and with those we love.
I began to learn that part of being content on the journey with Jesus is simply trusting Him one day at a time. You can’t live in regret of the past. It is forgiven. You can’t live in fear of the future. It is in God’s hands. Without regret or fear you are free to live in the moment. Or as C. S. Lewis put it, “Where, except in the present, can the Eternal be met?”
Jesus proclaimed that exact message in the Gospel of Matthew.
“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?”
Matthew 6:25-27
It was true. Worrying would not add a single moment to my life or my sweet canine friend. The treatment gave us many months of extra time. And I began the journey of living in the moment thanks to the example of Hannah.
It is now my daily pursuit to trust God and savor each precious day.
You might also like
One Item Is Not Covered by Grace
I talk about grace so much that the auto-suggest on my phone pops up the word as soon as I hit “G”....
Eternal Hope Blooms Each Spring
Texas seasons can be brutal for plants and trees. Last summer the heat and lack of rain impacted a new...
The Worst Day of Peter’s Life
There is much written about Good Friday. The sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross is incomprehensible...