“I’m going to rename him Velcro,” my husband proclaimed as he shook his head at my little pup, Sammy, who is never more than two feet away from me at all times. “He is constantly stuck to you.”
He’s right. He often has to compete with Sammy if he wants to sit next to me on the couch, or move in for a goodnight kiss in bed. Sammy is perpetually by my side, watching, waiting and trying to anticipate my next move. He follows me from room to room throughout the day, and lies in a dog bed next to my desk when I’m in the office. He’s always at my heels.
Sammy is a good example for me. Not when he barks for scraps at mealtime, or chases the cats, or chews up my socks, but when he sticks close to me.
It’s how I imagine I should be following Jesus. Not just following in a general sense, like I know he’s ahead of me somewhere and I think I can make him out in the distance if I squint hard enough. Or following somewhere along the fence line and only scurrying over to him when something spooks me. But following closely. All the time. Where I can see him and recognize his voice when he calls and can let him guide me down the path one step at a time. Where I can touch the hem of his garment when I need to.
This is how I imagine the saints felt— that every step they took in their spiritual journey was in sync with Jesus. Like they could just turn to the right and turn to the left and see and feel and hear the Lord next to them. They were always near to him, not bringing up the rear of the line in the back of the herd. They were the good sheep and he was their Good Shepherd. He wanted them close and they wanted to be close to him. Right at his heels.
And that’s how it is with us, too. He wants us close. Where we can feel his presence in every room, in every situation, in every challenging circumstance. Where we can feel his great love. And where we don’t have to go far to find his mercy and forgiveness.
I’m going to stick close to Jesus as best as I can. At his heels, even. Like Velcro.
[Sammy is so inspiring. I can’t wait to point this out to my husband.]
I’ve been meaning to write about this topic for two weeks. After all, January is almost over and it’s my New Year’s Resolution. But I just couldn’t seem to get the words from my brain to the Word document with all the other things going on. Perhaps I should have put “Be More Organized” on my resolution list this year!
I have often envisioned Jesus hugging me, especially on days when things get rough and I am not all that huggable (it happens; ask my husband). It’s always been Jesus taking the lead, smiling and leaning down (Jesus is always taller than me) to scoop me in his arms and hold me tight, and consoling me in the way only he can. I am mostly passive in this imaginary scene. I let him hug me to his chest and I just close my eyes and soak it in. This is a calming image, and it has a healing effect on me, but I think in the future I will imagine something different: I am going to envision myself hugging him back. When I next picture Jesus hugging me, I am going to reach out and slip my arms around his neck and shoulders and pull him even closer. It will be a true embrace (embrace is, not-coincidentally, my word of the year) between the two of us, not a one-sided action on his part only. I will hug him back!
“Make sure you take time to connect with the people you’re working for,” our parish priest advised us as we prepared to depart for our home improvement mission work deep in the hollers of Kentucky. We had our project lists in hand, our tools at the ready and our trucks loaded with supplies. All 22 of us were eager to dive in to the manual labor required over the next five days. But our pastor wisely counseled us to put down our hammers and paintbrushes and invest in the relationships with the homeowners we were serving as well.
