Gibby and the Good Life

15 May

One thing that worried me as an expecting mom was how our two dogs would adjust to having a new, out-ranking member in the family.

J and I have two pups. Duncan is a 4 1/2-year-old Beagle/Pointer mix. He’s spoiled. He’s only ever known the good life, and it shows.  We adopted him in October of 2006 when he was 10 weeks old and he’s been living the Good Life ever since then.  He pouts, he begs, he’s got an attitude. We still love him.

Gibson, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. J surprised me with Gibby on my 25th (I think?) birthday.  He picked him out by taking Duncan to the Rescue center and seeking out the dog that Duncan would get along with easily.  Duncan and Gibson were immediate pals. And that’s how Gibby came to know the Good Life as well.

It turns out, Gibson was a stray that someone dumped on I-270 and he was found mangled with wounded feet roaming the highway. The very good people at Hope Rescues picked him up and nursed him back to great health.  It may all be in my head, but Gibby’s genuinely positive and joyful attitude and compliance with whatever we want him to do stems from knowing that he’s in the Good Life. He’s always so elated to see us when we come home. He’s so comforted by our attention and pets. He’s so warmed by a snuggle on the couch.

He’s gracious.

I can’t help thinking that the Good Life that Gibby is living is like my own Good Life that I have in Jesus.  One day I’m roaming the dangerous shoulder of a systematically busy highway, wounded, hopeless.  The next day, I’m being washed clean, made whole, and ushered into the ultimate Good Life. Nothing I did got me there, nothing I could have done would have saved myself.  I could have wandered into the busy road and sealed my fate. But I was saved.

It’s no wonder the joy Gibby has in his heart.  I suppose it’s a lesson we can all learn from.


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