Goodbye Old Friend

Faithful Pat the white hound died today.  It was a freak accident,  An old blind and deaf dog wandered in front of a truck.  We were all broken hearted.  I have cried a lot today.

Some people divide their lives according to great events such as births and marriges.  Some establish their eras of living around military service or schools attended.  I have always imagined the calendar of my life according to the dogs who were by my side.  Pat joined our family through the kindness of friends at a very dark time for us all.  It now seems so long ago.  He was there for our rebirth, and our new home, and the real living into our beliefs as a family of Christians.  He was there when Ashley married, and when Tristan was deployed, and when the girls were born.  And now he is gone.  We buried him in a simple ceremony in the rose garden, and his grave will be marked by a white tea rose come spring.

Like Pat, so much of my world has passed in the last few weeks.  The electoral college spread in the recent elections here made it pretty clear to me that the demographic realities of the Republic have changed to such a degree that I am unlikely to see a major party presidential candidate who shares my philosophy of culture and government again.  The number of bishops who have been charged recently under the Episcopal Church's disciplinary canons would seem to indicate that my vision of what the Church should be is as endangered as my political philosophy.  But for all of the change, I remain optimistic about the future.  Jesus Christ still reigns, and all the feeble actions and attitudes of us men are firmly in the hand of God, guided ever so gently and lovingly by his holy providence.  Even when we oppose him, he is working through our disobedience to glorify himself and to bring us back to himself. 

I will miss Pat.  I already do.  I will miss what the Republic and the Anglican Communion have been.  But God who gives me breath will still reign, and he is faithful and true, as was old Pat.  There is something very comforting about remembering an old dog after the tears are dried and you come to terms with the fact that he is gone.  There is something very liberating about knowing that the game is over and you have lost.  It frees you to be yourself and to be faithful in a new and comforting way. 

Thank you Pat for being my friend.  As long as I live, you will have a place in my heart, and I will tend your rose as long as I am able.