I sing at church, mostly without a hymnal, and to the surprise of many leaders. I guess it's because I'm male. I also sing tenor, which delights many choir directors until I start making up my own parts because I'm usually the only tenor and feel like I should be able to do what I like. However, there are some hymns in my Faith that I don't sing, where I sit there arms folded, a stern and dour look on my face in sullen silence until they finish because I don't feel like it. Until this fall, one of these was "Love at Home"; I realized that although this hymn implies family and posterity, it also obliquely refers to anything and everyone that provides love at home. I realized that I have love at home in the form of my dog.
There is beauty all around: my beagle buddy is pretty handsome. The young kids in the neighborhood think he's a puppy. He has pretty good posture for his age. You should see his cute face. I have something beautiful to look at every day at home even if I don't leave the house because I have this handsome dog as my house mate.
There is joy in every sound: when I wake in the middle of the night, arrive home from work, or come in from outside, I hear the clickety clack of his nails on the flooring as he comes to the door to see if I'm there. When I hear him breathe or snore, I know he is alive still, and that brings me joy too.
Peace and plenty here abide: very little gives me the peace I feel like lying on the poof and rubbing my dog's belly and scratching his head. No matter how my day was, I feel comfortable there, loved, as I feel his breath and hear him purr. When I awoke Christmas morning and heard him snoring, I felt like the richest man in Christendom. I thanked God for my first Christmas present that morning.
Smiling sweet on every side: my beagle makes me laugh, makes me cry, makes me smile, makes me feel welcome when I walk through the front door. I don't think anything in my life gives me the joy that I feel being with him.
Time doth softly, sweetly glide: I can hardly believe that I've had this beagle since June 2003, how much time has gone by, how we've been on adventures and taken rides and been places. I remember picking him up from the airport in Sacramento on a hot June afternoon, how he shivered with fear. He'd been there alone for hours, and on the way home, he learned to trust me and love me. I really hope I age as well and live as long as he has.
In the cottage there is joy: I already mentioned my joy, but you should see his. If I grab a treat or the leash or open the back door, he will leap up and turn in the air (not so much anymore) and excitedly get ready to go. We never go very far or for very long, but he's so excited by simple things, it's an ensample to me about just how glorious simplicity can be.
Hate and envy ne'er annoy: one of the great things about a dog is his abject lack of selfishness. Other dogs will take things or defend territory, but even when he's attacked, he never fights back. I do the fighting. If he smells other dogs on me or if I had another one, he wouldn't be jealous, and he doesnt' care how many Doug treats I eat as long as he gets at least one dog treat.
Sweeter sings the brooklet by: we spend a lot of time together out back, and my house backs up to a riparian area where a natural spring drains towards the lake. So, the birds and beasts that also occupy this area have learned that the dog is no threat, so I can watch them perch on trees above him or drink from his bowl or just watch him. THey watch me, and they know that I'm the gardner, and in the yard there is peace.
Brighter beams the azure sky: one of his favorite things to do is just go outside and stand in the sun. I imagine, particularly now that it's cold, he just wants to warm up as he stares at the sky. But we sit out there just enjoying being in nature while I rub him, and life seems bright even if only for afew moments when we're together.
Oh, there's One who smiles on high: I really think this is the literal manifestation of God's love in my life right now. Some people have successful businesses, beautiful families, or other gifts, but I have this wonderful dog, which is essentially the mirror reflection of God.
When there's love at home. When there's love at home, a house is a home. I have looked forward to getting home almost every night since he fell ill in September. I am excited to spend time with him. We're going for a walk when I finish this post. For the first time since I was newly married, I feel love in this house, in my house, in my life, in a way that holds water. Ok, he makes a mess drinking water, but there's someone here with skin on, and he may be a dog and "just" a dog, but he's the closest thing to a son I have. I will watch him die some day and probably soon, but until then, I have the literal physical manifestation of God's love for me and dog's love for me sleeping on the poof just awake enough to watch for when it's time to leave. And I consider that a great blessing. It's been a tough year in many ways, but he has been there to comfort me, to greet me, to accompany me, to listen to me, to make me feel loved, and I could not be more grateful. I have love at home, and for the first time in my adult life that song doesn't bother me anymore.
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