I had an unexpected visitor last
night.
Oh, not the kind of visitor who rings
your doorbell, and says, “Howdy do.” However, this visitor has visited in my
home in the past. Matter of fact, she used to live in my home.
But before you jump to conclusions,
she wasn’t a human being. (Far from it). She was a girl dog with a boy dog’s
name.
BUDDY
Buddy was a beautiful little white and
auburn colored Shih Tzu.
Did I mention my Buddy is no longer
with us? Yes, I know that revelation is a bit “in your face” since I just made
you aware that Buddy was last night’s unexpected visitor. Buddy went on to her
reward on March 1, 2006, (and if you “do the math” you’ll realize she has been gone
for over twelve years).
Harry Houdini promised his wife, Bess
that he if he preceded her in death, he would do his best to contact her from “the
great beyond.” As if fell together, Harry died of appendicitis, after having
been punched in the stomach by one of his fans; attempting to determine just
how tough he was.
Not content to be a passive observer,
Bess arranged numerous seances in her quest to contact her dearly departed
husband. Unfortunately, old Harry never managed to transcend the confines of
death. The man who escaped handcuffs, shackles and a locked water cabinet could
not escape the grave. As a result, Beth was bereft of Harry’s soothing voice
and comforting presence, and, ultimately, made her own solitary passage to “the
other side.”
Pt. 2
The late great actor (and Air Force
Reserve Brigadier General) Jimmy Stewart enjoyed writing poems. I recall watching
“The Johnny Carson Show” one night decades ago, and Stewart happened to be the Johnny’s
main guest. As it fell together, he quoted one of his poems, “My Dog Beau.” (You
can view this video segment on YouTube.com)
The jest of the poem is that, at one
time, he loved a dog named ‘Beau’ and that at some point his blessed canine
passed away. However, near the end of the poem there is the implication that,
after he has retired to his bedroom one night, Beau somehow manages to make his
ethereal presence known to his beloved master.
I can’t account for why Harry Houdini,
great escape artist that he was, failed in his attempt to come back from the
dead and visit Bess, no more than I can account for the reason Beau, an humble
little dog, somehow managed to do what Houdini could not do, (and no more than
I can account for the reason my dear little Buddy managed to visit me last
night, and a couple of other nights before that).
(Yeah, she did).
But speaking of a “couple of other
nights,” allow me to reminisce a bit.
Buddy had only been gone for a few days,
as I remember, and one night I was strolling along my neighborhood streets
thinking about my dear little pooch. And as I was nearing my house, I saw it.
Or more precisely, I saw her. My beloved little Buddy.
What appeared to be a white Shih Tzu
suddenly appeared, perhaps three feet in front of me, walked across my pathway
into my neighbor’s yard, …and disappeared.
(I kid you not).
Of course, I was surprised, but not at
all afraid.
Pt. 3
It was about this same time, shortly
after the passing of my Buddy, that I headed off to bed one night.
And before I drifted off to sleep I
sensed something slide up against my right shoulder. I never saw it but I
sensed its weight, and then, (not unlike that old Boris Karloff movie in which
the main character shouts, “It’s alive, It’s alive”) it was as though the thing
was breathing. In and out. In and out. I lay there a while, and the sensation continued
for several more minutes.
I knew. I just knew. And, no doubt,
the sensation of weight, and the consciousness of respiration was for my benefit,
not that of my ethereal little Buddy; (who by this time had neither weight, nor
any need or reason to breathe).
A few days later, I suddenly sensed
the weight of something against my right foot. I had no doubt whatsoever. Buddy
used to sleep in the bed with me, and she would lie on a pillow at the end of
the bed. I dared not move. Not because I was anxious or afraid. But I knew. I
just knew. Buddy had come to visit me again, and her presence was just so
welcome and assuring.
Over a decade passed, and her visitations
seemed to be over.
However, as I have previously inferred,
I lay down last night, (and while still very much awake) I sensed a presence.
This time around there was no physical sensation of weight or respiration; only
a innate realization that I was not alone…
In Psalm 36:6, we read,
“You preserve both men and animals,
alike.”
Over the past few years, this particular
scripture has given me a great deal of comfort, since I am convinced I will see
all four of my dearly departed pooches on the other side. Yes, I am convinced
that God will preserve the dearly departed pets of all believers, and that we will
be reunited with them when this life is past.
Afterward
I have no earthly idea why God has
chosen to send Buddy back to me three times over the course of a dozen years,
but I am convinced that He did. However, I can tell you that these miraculous
experiences have only caused me to be that more convinced of the reality of
heaven, and the reality of the God who created the heavens.
And, I have no idea why someone as
prestigious and gifted as Harry Houdini failed in this same quest, though he had
“staked his life” on the claim, whereas an humble little canine managed the
task.
But I’m glad that she did.
by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Vol. 85. Copyright pending
If you wish to copy, share of save, please include the credit line, above
No comments:
Post a Comment