“…But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

“But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

Luke 15:20, 32 NIV

I heard a car horn honk in little bursts down at the road. Looking down from the hill I could see four cars at a dead stop. The honk sounded again and the cars crawled slowly forward. Unusual for this road with 30 miles an hour posted where drivers have decided the law doesn’t apply to them. They have somewhere very important to go and they should have arrived already. As the cars creep by, I notice the cars meeting them are traveling at the same slow-motion pace.

I spy Jeff near the road with his chainsaw preparing to cut up a downed limb. "What's going on?" I call. "There are two dogs standing in the road," he answers. Oh good gracious! They won't last a minute on this race track, I think, panicked. "Call them!" I yell back.

I grab leashes and dog food and meet Jeff in the front yard. There they are; a black lab mix teenager who will follow us anywhere and her grumpy much older terrier friend who distrusts us and obviously is not happy about this adventure they are on. She growls at us, runs a few feet away while looking angrily over her shoulder at us. Both of them are soaking wet. Neither have collars. Well, this is not how I want to spend my Sunday afternoon.

We make a phone call to my cousin next door. We text their photos to Nancy. No one seems to know where these lost dogs live. We decide to lock Mrs. Grumpy inside the pool fence, since she will not cooperate, while we walk the lab around the block, knocking on doors.

We meet new neighbors, we confront other dog walkers, bike riders, and joggers; "Have you ever seen this dog?" We find out these two have escaped before but the previous rescuer isn’t home. We keep walking, we keep knocking. We have been at it for well over an hour. One more house and I am done – at least for the time being.

A man answers the door. I point to the street where Jeff waits with the lab, “Have you ever seen this dog?” He answers a simple “Yes”. Relieved, hoping the dogs belong to a home in the neighborhood behind us, I jump into my story about finding the two dogs standing in the street. With almost no emotion the man at the door answers, “That’s my dog. But I don’t understand what you are talking about with 2 dogs.” I explain more. He looks at me like I am nuts.

“We have an older dog, but she’s asleep in the kitchen in her bed.” My turn. “Are you sure?” I ask incredulously. “Yeah, she rarely goes out. I just walked by her a minute ago.” Me again, “But this is your dog?” pointing again to the lab. Him; “Yeah.”

It is dawning on me that this guy is completely unaware his two dogs have been out joy-riding the neighborhood for the past couple of hours. The older one got bored, escaped our fence, plodded back home, snuck in the back door, and was now resting from her big adventure.

We handed off 'Laura' the puppy lab, exchanged names, and shook our heads at our lost dog adventure. Jeff spent the next two days bemoaning that we found the owner and returned the lost dog. “She was a fine dog. She liked me,” he would say out of nowhere. “Her owner never even noticed she was missing.”

And that was the thing we were most affected by; the lack of celebration at their return. Those two were as good as dead, standing in the middle of the road – oblivious of their predicament. Their homecoming – excuse me, Laura’s homecoming, was met with a nonchalant note, “Oh yeah, the workmen damaged the electric fence Friday, and we can’t get it repaired until tomorrow.”

I think of the one lost sheep.

 Jesus told a little story of a sheepherder with a flock of 100 sheep. If one sheep was lost, that shepherd would leave the 99 to go in search of the one. (Luke 15:1-7). When he had found that one lost sheep, he would lay it on his shoulders, rejoicing. When he returned home, he would call together his friends and neighbors to celebrate. Jesus said this is like his Father in heaven – that there is rejoicing over one repentant, found person; one who was lost, wandering, in danger of wolves, deep crevices, speeding cars.

 And I have to ask myself, how much do I care about lost sheep? Do I care as much as I did on Sunday about a lost dog?

 And when I read the three parables Jesus tells us about lost things through Luke, I have to ask myself - which am I? The old grumpy dog, curled up snoring in my bed like nothing is wrong? Or am I the willing pup, fully exposed, no denying my wrongdoing, waiting expectantly to be welcomed back home?

 How Deep The Father's Love For Us | Cameron and Kelly | One Sound Music

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0aa-cXvNMLE

Photo by Daniel Frank