Dogs and angels

What we learned today.

We learned our dog Keela, whom we adopted in January, loves to swim. She also loves to chase squirrels and birds, but we already knew that. Linda took both our fearsome pit bulls down to the beach. As they reached the shore the leashes got tangled. At that moment a family of ducks filed by. Keela took off. The ducks swam straight out into West Bay. Keela followed them. They flew away. Keela homed in on a nearby swan. Thankfully it did not attack her. (We've seen swans go at dogs and people.) Instead it swam farther away. So did Keela. By this point Linda could barely see her.

We also learned angels exist. A man on a jet ski—with his dog on board—tried to coax Keela back. She ignored him. He drove away. A man with his retriever on a leash approached. He tried to console Linda with the thought that Keela would swim back. At this point Linda believed Keela could never make it all the way to land. The water is still extremely cold.

A man appeared out of nowhere to ask Linda what was wrong. She told him. He returned to his parked van, retrieved a paddle board, and began sprinting toward Keela. He tried to get her up onto the board but she, panicked and what they gently call a “reactive dog” (translation: apt to go ape crazy if people or dogs upset her) would not cooperate. Linda is not sure what he did next. Maybe he grabbed her leash—still attached to her collar. Or maybe he just kind of led her back. But back she came. All the way to Linda.

(A note for those of you familiar with Traverse City. Linda estimates Keela swam about halfway from West End Beach to Clinch Park Marina, and perhaps a quarter mile north out into the Bay. And back.)

The angel put his paddle board back on his van. Linda asked how he could repay her. He said he was glad to help and no payment was necessary.

I guess Keela really is a rescue dog, after all.

Geriatric baptism

Last week we baptized an 88 year-old man. Our Clerk of Session and his deacon wife, also octogenarians, witnessed the sacrament. We performed it during our weekly worship service at a local retirement community. “Jim” (not his real name) had approached me the previous week and said, “I have never been baptized.”

“Would you like to be?” I answered.

He hesitated. He had belonged to the Presbyterian Church all his life without getting baptized. Our denomination is more enamored of rules than the average church; his slipping through that legal crack surprised me. Since we baptize babies his parents would normally have taken care of it. But his father had opposed it. Jim did not say why, but clearly implied` his father did not believe.

But here Jim stood, pondering whether to get baptized. He asked a couple of questions, then said, “I would very much like to be baptized, if you would baptize somebody like me.”

As a matter of fact I can think of few things that honor and delight me more than the chance to baptize somebody like Jim. I have known him for several years. I knew he was thoughtful. I knew he struggled to synthesize his economic conservatism with a big heart for all kinds of people. I knew he carried a heavy burden for something he did in the Navy, but he has never done more than hint at what that was.

We talked about how baptism symbolizes the mercy of God, how our gracious Lord Jesus forgives all who pray for it. I shared my sense of my own sin. Like many aging men, my awareness of my own guilt is growing. All the more do I praise God that I do not have to let that burden of guilt grow until it crushes me. This seemed to matter quite a lot to Jim.

The day arrived. Jim's daughter came. So did his son-in-law. He introduced them with a quivering voice. But when the time came, he steeled himself and stood before a room filled with his generation. I wish I could have bottled the air in there. It was so full of love it would make a healing tonic for many a malady.

Tears came into Jim's eyes as I placed the water on his head. We all cried. We sang a hymn, stood around and talked for a while, and departed into a sunny afternoon.

Every now and then I feel blessed to get to do my job.