WAS THERE A DOG AT THE MANGER?
Be
carried on the wind of your imagination…
The
nite is black and raw.
One star alone shines brightly in the sky. The unusual illumination makes her nervous. Her bones are old and brittle and the ribs protruding from her frail body carry very little flesh. She is hungry and weary. She slithers into a back corner stall in the dark building where the animals rest, circles several times in the old, used straw to make a warm nest, and curls around herself. A gap between two boards of the stall give her visual access and her ears lay flat against her skull always listening for any threat from the world. Splintered remnants of bones are buried under the straw. She has slept here before. And so she dozes in the cold occasionally stirring to pick up her ears and listen to voices carried on the air from the inn.
She is not an OTCH. She has no title designations either before or after her name. She doesn't even have a name. Her legs are long and wolf-like and her hair is wiry, short, and mangy. Sort of a honey color, she has never known a home or regular meals. While many human feet have taken kicks at her, she has never known the love of a human hand.
She barks softly in her sleep, perhaps dreaming of a meal, perhaps the ache of arthritis enflamed by the damp bedding when suddenly -- instantly -- she comes awake. Alerted by the unusual noises emanating from the manger down where the humans lie sleeping, she cocks her head to one side and listens to this strange cry.
You
probably will not see her in your manger scene, but she was there. A gift to the
Christ from God. If you doubt it, look into the face of your canine companion.
There…..behind his eyes…..you can see it. The instincts that no one can
explain. He will look at you as if to say, "I have always known that she
was there". And while you're looking, be reminded that he is a gift from
God to you.
Kristen Dickinson