After a last few eternal moments with my old friends, Clyde raised his noble head, and lifted his silky black ears. Something only he could hear was gently demanding his attention, and I knew that he and the other two animals would be going soon, heeding the call of Heaven in joyful obedience. He allowed me a final (for now) scruffing on his broad furry chest, and then he and the others bolted off into the Forest in the direction they had come. I watched them recede quickly out of sight, marveling at the energy and flawless grace of their movements. The last time I had been with Clyde in the world below, he had been a helpless, and pain-wracked cripple.
"Why no people?" I asked back in the Halfway House (when did I start calling the place where I had awoken that?). I took the sudden and instantaneous transition of place in my stride by now. I was amazed (and a little proud) of how quickly I had gotten accustomed to thought-travel. I was, after all, me.
"Do you want the truth?" he asked in response.
There is a choice, here? I thought in my head, forgetting it made no difference.
"That depends. Is it a bad reason?" (I said it out loud this time.)
"I will only ever tell you the truth, or nothing at all. There are many things I could say to you, but you cannot bear them now. This item is borderline. It is not what you will think as complimentary, but it will be helpful, if you allow the truth to have its perfect work."
"Shoot," I said, "I can take it. I'm a big boy."
He nodded, and then took a moment to form his words carefully. He hadn't done that before. My one thought: uh oh.
"You are not really a 'big boy'," he said. I waited for the trademark smile. It didn't come.
"You are, instead, quite fragile. And your level of fear and insecurity is matched only by your desire to appear otherwise. While desiring with your whole heart to have faith in the One who made and saved you, you have what they call on-planet, trust issues. You think they are justified, and you hold onto them like a security blanket. In human terms, they are justified, based on the experiences of your past. But those experiences, and everything else about your earthly existence, all the scars and dents and scrapes inflicted upon you by yourself and others, are utterly transcended by your King. They melt away into vapor and nothingness in the Light of His Presence. But you are stubbornly thick-headed, and fail to surrender your heart to knowledge that your brain knows all too well."
"Don't beat around the bush, pal. Tell me what you really think."
"Sarcasm does not play well in Heaven," he said gently. Then finally, the smile. Oh how quickly I had become an addict!
I relaxed then, because as broken and disqualified as I felt at that moment by his relatively gentle criticism, I knew he still approved. I was completely embarrassed by how vitally important that was to me.
The it struck me how perfectly orchestrated this last interaction with my companion had been, starting with my dogs. His words had instigated the very reactions he was so carefully delineating, illustrating the objective truth about them undeniably, and with exceedingly, abundant grace and gentleness.
As I thought this, his smile grew wider and, well, more.
"You're very good at this my friend!" I said laughing.
"I am so much more than your friend, Dead Man. I am so much more than 'on your side'. But that perception will do for now. Well done!"
His actual praise of me just then, while filling an emptiness that seemed to be there from all eternity, simultaneously felt very, very risky.
Ah! All part of the same lesson! I realized, sheepishly. I am a complicated Dead Man.
"Indeed!" he said still smiling. "Indeed."
