I am a dog run over.
Life… hit me… left me for dead on the side of the road. I was crossing, simply crossing, ignorant of the dangers that lay ahead, just getting from there to here. The car hit me out of nowhere. I lay there, hurt, beyond help, alone and afraid.
I whimper, I beat my tail on the pavement but I am helpless.
I cannot do this. Cars go pass, most fast, some slow. I am breathing, quick, shallow, painful breaths. I am dying. I feel the life-blood oozing out of me even as I tell my paws to move, will my body to get up and run to help but.... I stagger, I stumble, I fall. I cannot. I am dying.
I am a dog run over.
I am helpless. The cars go by quickly, furiously, each filled with a person or persons with a place to go, a thing to do… they drive and I bleed. Helpless and alone. I am afraid. I am stuck. I am hurt. I am dying.
Then he comes to save me.
He sees where the blood flows from me. He tries to stop it. He touches me and I snap at him. It hurts and I am ferocious in my fear and pain! I bite. I draw his blood. He pulls back, with curses. I am wounded and he is trying to touch the pain, I do not know what else to do. I growl. His hand recoils… bloodied… and he leaves.
I am alone. I am hurt. I am dying.
She comes. Again I snap… she recoils, moves far off. I have frightened her away.
And… again I am alone. I am hurt. I am dying.
She calls Him and He comes. This Savior, this One who is not afraid. I know when I see Him that He is strong enough. His hands are covered in thick, dark, leather gloves. They are impenetrable. He sees my pain and knows how to handle me despite it.
He is the Healer. He is the Counselor. He talks to me with words I cannot understand. I snap yet He is undeterred. He applies pressure firmly on the parts torn up and also to my muzzle. He is stronger than my pain (though it rips me apart), impervious to my defenses (though I struggle and fight with all the strength I have left) and carries me to the place of surgery.
He holds me and heals me. It is not an easy task, I am a feisty dog… even if I am run over. It is not a quick task. It takes time to mend the injuries, to strengthen the broken bones, to stitch up what was torn open.
I am unwell.
I lay many days, with minimal interaction because I am afraid, because I snap, because I hurt. But He comes, touching the wounds, not to hurt but to heal, to insure they are mending. I understand this now as I could not before. He hurts me to help me. I do not bite the hand that helps me anymore.
Slowly… ever so slowly I trust His face, His touch. He is kind, He is good. He means me no harm, but His hands don’t always deliver kindness. He pats my head, then removes the bandages, exposes the pain, makes sure the healing is progressing.
It is not easy. It is not fun. It is pain. It is healing.
In time, I look forward to his visits tough I cannot say why. I want Him, though He hurts me. His voice begins to somehow soothe me, even as His hands force joints to move that do not want to bend, pull stitches out that are stuck in place and push and press on places still raw and tender to the touch. He is a Healer and despite the pain, I long for His voice, if not His touch.
Slowly, ever so slowly, like His face, I trust His voice. The words He speaks refresh me. His voice strengthens me. He gives me a name I never knew I had.
And He walks with me. And He talks with me. And He tells me that I am His own. And the joy we share... as we tarry there, none other, has ever known!
In time, I can smell Him before I even see Him or hear Him or feel Him. I know Him. He is mine, and I am His and... I love Him! He comes to me and my tail wags. Moving is still hard, pain is still a part of my life, but … with His patience, His wisdom, His touch, His words... I am healing!
Someday, I won't flinch at His caress but lean into it. Someday, I will walk up to Him and hoist my paws onto His chest. Someday, I will be well enough to run beside Him. Someday, He will throw a stick or ball and I will run fast and free to catch what he throws out for me…
But for now… all I can do is heal. I am not well but… I am safe in His care.
And, I will get better. I am mending
But for now my job is to heal.
For now, I am grateful for He who braved the pain to come to me, to save me, to stand with me, pet me, soothe me, stay with me at my worst, celebrate my healing and participate in my restoration.
I am a dog run over, redeemed from the side of the road. I am healing… I am OK.
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