Welcome to the KingZoo and Funny Farm, where we learn to live, laugh, and love together. Here you'll find snippets of life in our zoo, parenting tips we've learned along the way, reflections on shining God's light in this world, passions in the realm of orphan care, and our journey as parents of a visually impaired child with sensory processing disorder. Have fun!

Saturday, December 7, 2013

The little things

I love animals, pets included.  I don't know why, however, I allow pets in my house because I just can't handle when they are sick or when one of them dies.  It doesn't matter if it's a dog or a guinea pig, a gerbil, or a snake.  Yes, even the snake gets my sympathy when she's not feeling well.  Twice in the 12 years we've had her, she's gone through some sort of phase or illness or something where she refuses to eat, acts strange, and we think it's the end.  Not knowing exactly how to "just make her comfortable" I do the best I can.  Even the hermit crabs get a proper burial around here.  So when I started to notice growths on the dog this past spring, things started to get difficult.

I ignored them as long as possible, especially the one on his neck, just under his jaw.  I had a cocker spaniel growing up.  He lived a good, long life, but after 16 years, he, too developed cysts in and around his mouth which led to putting him to sleep.  I don't like to spend excess money on my pets (some days I have a hard time justifying my pet ownership to myself, knowing that the money for food alone could be better spent on human need or suffering elsewhere) but I also don't want to see them suffering or dying.  In my avoidance of the cyst on his neck, I failed to notice that it was getting larger.  Over Thanksgiving my uncle noticed it and asked about it.  I decided I needed to check again.  Sure enough, it was almost the size of a tennis ball.  It was time to call the vet.

The Good Doctor valiantly offered to make the call and the appointment.  Anticipating the appointment date, five days away, I assumed the worst and started to say my good-byes to Linus.  I also prayed.  It felt silly.  I have a son who is blind.  I spent three months away from my family, asking God to help my son breathe.  Now I'm asking Him to heal my dog?

But you know what?  The night before the appointment, I planned to show the Good Doctor each cyst so he could be informed and feign interest in the dog's welfare when he went to the vet.  Would you believe that every cyst is gone?

I have learned so much about prayer this year, to ask in the big things and in the small.  I am learning that the God of the universe loves me with a love that I will never fully understand this side of Heaven. A love that cares about the things I care about, a love that takes care of the things I care about.


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