Easter Miracles

This photo was taken about this time last year. And last night, while Una was missing so dearly, it was snowing hard. We were certain that if she could have come home, she would have returned by now--she is not precipitation-loving dog. And we were also certain that if a good person had found her, surely they would have called the number on her little heart-shaped collar. So we were left with two conclusions: either she couldn't come home (injured, ditch, eaten by coyotes) or she had been picked up by shady characters (think White Fang--or worse, just read the Albuquerque News).

And we didn't realize she was missing until almost midnight, being that we had spent our evening dyeing eggs, doing taxes, and practicing piano for church. So we felt like even worse parents--though in our defense, Una spends a lot of time in here dog run outside our house, or just sleeping in the garage, so it didn't feel that unusual.

So once we discovered she was missing we were making calls to the city, the shelters, the company that microchipped her, pacing, and husband was driving through the streets looking for a body.

It was horrible.

Bedtime was the worst: she has an annoying habit of scratching about 5 times each night to be let in, then out, then back in--which has been driving us Crazy since we moved into this house--she just does it because she can. But last night, we were both listening so, so hard for just one little scratch. And of course there was lots of repentance: for every time we've been less than gracious to her antics (begging, tracking in, barking at us at 6 a.m. for walks, knocking over the baby, sitting herself right down on whatever we happen to be doing that involves floor, etc). If she could just be there to annoy us one more time, we would be forever grateful. I thought about changing Elsa's name to Una, then thought not, then wondered if this would induce labor, then hoped not.

Please, please, God, we prayed.

This morning involved more desperate phone calls and gray-dawn drives up and down Tramway to make sure we didn't see any fluff balls on the side of the road on our way to church. I don't think we'll see her again, I finally said to husband.

But it was Easter, and we are called to celebrate and be joyful, so we woke Heidi up with a smile and drove to church hoping for a miracle.

Wouldn't it be amazing if she just showed up at church? It's totally possible: we only live 3 miles away and she could have just taken the trails all the way there...and we kept praying.

We had just pulled out of the driveway and were only a few houses down when I saw that familiar tail wag in front of a neighbor's home. And there she was! Covered in mud and shell-shocked, but alive, whole, free, and in one piece! And happy to see us too. Totally Incredible Journey. Except one night instead of a year, but that one night was long enough for me!

There is a deep lesson here too: I'm sad to say that I have never grieved so intensely on an Easter weekend or rejoiced more loudly. I'm sad to say that it takes a missing dog for me to try and understand what it means to be lost and found, to be dead and resurrected. But there are always crumbs for dogs, and I am thankful for the smallest ways that God brings me to understanding.