Five Minute Friday: Five


Gentle Reader,

Tonight for the five lead by Kate, we write on: five.


Sometimes the crap hits the fan, and there’s no disguising the mess. Or smell.




My faithful buddy, the fat and neurotic Benny, has congestive heart failure. He’s somewhere around 12-13 years old, so it’s not entirely surprising. But so hard. So very hard. The kind emergency vet lady gave him lasix pills, which seem to be helping, yet I know that the end of his life is nearer than the beginning. I can’t even start to think about what it will be like without him pressed up against my hip as I sit, curled up in the couch corner, tapping away at the keys.

Blessed are those who mourn,
    For they shall be comforted.

– Matthew 5:4 (NKJV)

This stage of existence is one of steady trouble punctuated by moments, tastes, glimpses of glory. Not one of us has an “easy life,” despite appearances. There is always something. Always tears lurking just beneath the surface, no matter how wide the smile. All it takes is one event or well-timed word to bring them crashing, rolling, down our cheeks.

Christ extends His hands, the ones still bearing the holes. Five fingers on each, wrapping around the back of our heads and pulling us to His chest. His heart and our sobs come together in an silent symphony, a song heard only by the orchestra of two. The lyrics are meaningless to outsiders. The clash of sacred and profane strikes a disturbingly dissonant chord.

Somehow, it is right.

Somehow, there is peace.

We’re trying to set aside just a little more money before we go car shopping, but that’s probably about to fly out the window and into the greedy mouth of a noisy new dishwasher. I can’t stop time’s ravaging effect on the soft, warm little body I see just out of the corner of my eye. I lay my hand on his soft fur, feel the rise and fall of his somewhat-labored breathing that continues only for now. My face is wet. I lean back and imagine myself the Beloved Disciple, reclining on the Savior’s chest that night, in that pause during the dinner, before the horror. He must have known, in that place buried deep in the back of each person’s mind, that the clock was set to shift to a new hour. An unsure hour.

As I know now.

And yet the promise stands,

I will not leave you orphans…

– John 14:18a (NKJV)

I have no solution for this problem, this thing called Pain, that has puzzled the wise down through the ages. I don’t know why things happen when and as they do.

I know only that He has not left me.

Nor has He left you.




29 thoughts on “Five Minute Friday: Five

  1. Beautiful, Marie. I so appreciate the reminder that God never leaves us. He walks with us when anything hits the fan. I truly am sorry about your puppy-buddy. So hard.

    I hadn’t thought about John leaning against Jesus’ chest and possibly hearing His heartbeat. Can you imagine? And to think, it beats for each of us.

    Thanks for this post. It uplifted me.


    1. Have you ever done Beth Moore’s study on John? She talks about how most scholars believe he was the youngest disciple, probably in his early teens. He would have thus lacked the gruffness and gravitas associated with maturity, and it’s not hard to imagine that he just snuggled up right close to Jesus. I long for the day when I can experience Him in that physical way!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m so sorry, Marie. I was just reading Philippians 2: 5- 8 and wept thinking of the path our Savior walked for us. He like no other, knows and sees and hears and feels our pain. Hugs to you from afar. Your words and painfully beautiful.


    1. He’s a sweetie. And mischievous. He loves to steal chapstick and lipstick from my friend’s purses. Somehow he gets the cap off and eats the contents. Weirdo!


  3. Oh Marie, my heart aches for the pain you are going through watching Benny. I love the word picture of John, the Beloved Disciple leaning against our Lord and savoring that moment before the horror of Calvary was upon them! You write about your feelings so honestly and clearly even in the middle of your own pain! Oh how I love you – will be praying!


    1. “Savoring that moment.” Aunt Lenore, that’s a word from God, through you, to me. I need to enjoy this moment instead of dreading the mourning to come. I need to just love on my doggy.


  4. Your post brought tears to my eyes. It is so easy to hear the love you have for Benny. I have walked that road before and you’re right, it is awful. And yet even with knowing the awful pain that inevitably comes, I have chosen to welcome more dogs into my life because there is just nothing like them, right? I pray that you find many moments of quiet time to remind your beloved boy just how much he means to you. I firmly believe that they know it is *because* of the love we have for them that we somehow are given the strength to help them at the end. It is not easy, but I pray strength for you.
    Visiting from FMF#23


    1. Patricia, your words bring tears to my eyes – in a good way. Dogs are little drops of unconditional love, placed on this earth to help see us through. What a privilege to have them!


    1. “Treasure the days.” You echo what Lenore said above, about “savoring that moment.” Again, I sense God speaking to me through you. Enjoy the blessing while it lasts and think of it with a smile when it’s gone.


  5. So sorry to hear your news about Benny and for the pain you are feeling. I’m glad God does not leave us alone in our pain and that he truly understands. I love your description of him holding us close and his heart and our sobs becoming a silent symphony. That’s a beautiful image.



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