HEARTLAND | Nate Adams
About a month ago, our family dog Willy went blind. When we adopted him from the shelter as a puppy, we knew he might have some health issues. During his first check-up, the veterinarian said it looked like he was made up of spare parts. For one thing, his eyes didn’t quite match, and it turns out one of them probably never did work. So when the retina detached from his good eye last month, he was left in the dark.
This actually happened the same week that we took our youngest son Ethan off to college. So it was already a pretty emotional time for my wife Beth. I thought I was helping by suggesting that we return the dog to the shelter. I know better now.
So because of my wife’s compassionate heart, we are now learning to be masters to a blind dog. Let me share with you a little of what we’re learning.
First, unless everything remains pretty much the same, Willy has to bump into things and learn by trial and error. The only time he seems to be able to avoid this discomfort is when we’re clearly guiding him with our voices, or with a leash.
Willy still loves going on long walks, even without his sight. Yet somewhat surprisingly, he still sometimes disobeys our voice, or pulls the other way on the leash. It’s almost as if he feels he knows better than those of us with greater intelligence, and sight.
Sometimes God allows us to learn from our mistakes and develop our spiritual senses.
Willy’s other senses, like smell and hearing and touch, have become much more important to all of us. Because he no longer sees things the way they truly are, he has to sense things in a less than perfect way, or rely on the voice commands of those of us who can see.
Willy always enjoyed being around us, but now more than ever he wants to be near us. Whenever he is awake he wants to be where he can hear us. And when he can hear us, he wants to come close to feel our touch. That’s when he seems completely at peace. In fact, the only time I’ve really heard him whine or complain since losing his sight is when he thinks we’ve left him alone.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose sight so suddenly and completely. Or maybe I can. Maybe you can too.
There are times when it seems that I just can’t see things, or can’t see where things are going, with the clarity or certainty I would like. Things in my family, my work, my church, things in Baptist life, things in our nation, things on the world scene – all seem to be less predictable, less comfortable than in the past.
In times like these, we can all learn some things from a blind dog. Our loving Master knows and sees everything perfectly. It’s silly for us to pull in different directions than He is leading, or to move contrary to His word, or His Spirit’s voice. Yet sometimes He will allow us to bump around on our own, to learn from our mistakes and develop our own spiritual senses more.
As we walk with Him by faith, we learn that none of the discomforts of change or uncertainty need threaten us, if we persistently pursue His voice, His touch, and His presence. That’s when we experience peace, even if the entire world seems to be rearranging the furniture of our lives.
I would never have wished blindness on our dog, and sometimes it is frustrating to be his master. Yet there is a new closeness in our relationship that did not exist before. Through his blindness, Willy is learning how deeply and desperately he needs a loving master to navigate the unprecedented changes of his life. And his blind faith is inspiring me to do the same.
Nate Adams is executive director of the Illinois Baptist State Association. Respond to his column at IllinoisBaptist@IBSA.org.
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