Sheba is our dog. Her lineage is unknown, and there has been much debate as to her breed. We believe her to be part lab, but the other part(s) are the greatest subject of debate. We have been told that she carries the bloodline of everything from border collie (which I tend to lean toward), to great pyranees to Australian shepherd. She has long, thick hair, intelligent brown eyes, and a plumey (is that even a word?) tail that resembles a flag waving when she wags it, which is most of the time. She’s smart, sweet, and perhaps a little spoiled. We love having her around.
We got Sheba when she was four months old in May of 2003. She was part of a litter of puppies that had been left in a box in a dumpster. A friend of ours found the pups, took them home and adopted them out, and we ended up with her. While we lived in Fort Smith, our backyard was a favorite stop in the rounds of a couple of neighborhood Romeos, and being the gracious hostess that she is, Sheba entertained her male guests, and then presented us with three litters of adorable little furballs before we finally had her tendency to be a little too “hospitable” permanently deterred.
She loves to ride in the car, doesn’t care for fireworks, and knows she’s not supposed to wander too far down our driveway toward the road, which is why she has been observed slowly and casually making her way down there with the occasional glance back toward the house to see if anyone’s watching. Hmmm.
This human-like trait of testing the limits is a bit curious to see in a dog, but it does remind me of how we are all tempted to see how much we can get away with, especially when no one is looking. While our flesh tries to lure us down the driveway toward the road, so to speak, the Spirit of God within us is calling us back up the hill toward home. Sheba’s not being allowed down by the road has only one motive behind it – I don’t want her to get run over by a passing car.
Similarly, the boundaries God places for us in His Word are placed there simply because He loves us too much to sit back and watch us wander aimlessly toward our own destruction.
The next time you find yourself about to do something, and you find yourself wanting to make sure no one is looking, stop. Just stop. Turn around and run back up the hill toward home. If you look up on the front porch, you’ll see the face of Someone who loves you watching you, waiting for you to come home.