New Beginnings

Although the classic example of patience is Job, I want to take a break from our serious studies and tell you a true story about a patient dog. In my early years, when we lived out in the country, Daddy came home from work one day with a black, gray-nosed, stray dog he had picked up on the side of the road. I can’t remember who named him, but we just called him Moose. Even though he was already too old to be very playful, and never showed much affection for us, he soon became an inseparable companion with my older brother Billy and me as we played in the pastures and woods. This dog dearly loved to hunt, and it did not matter what kind of animal he pursued—squirrel, rabbit, skunk, raccoon, opossum, armadillo, fox, or snake. Almost every night, shortly after dark, Billy and I would hear Moose barking, and he would continue barking until we got out of bed and went to see what he had treed.

My brother relishes telling about the night Moose treed something in a pine tree. We could not spot the animal with the flashlight, so Billy decided one of us would have to climb the tree and flush the varmint out. For some unknown reason, still not entirely clear to me, I was always elected for such jobs. I resisted by arguing that I had forgotten my knife and was not going up there without any protection. Naturally, Billy had brought along his pocketknife and generously offered to loan it to me. I opened up the biggest blade, put it between my teeth, and shinnied bravely up the tree. I still distinctly recall encountering some kind of large, angry animal that was unhappy about sharing its space, but my memory is a little hazy from that point forward. According to my brother’s version, I came flying out of the tree on one side and a big bobcat jumped out on the other side. Fortunately the bumps and scratches were soon gone, but the memory of that night lingers on to this day—mostly because my brother loves to tell the story.

We had to be very careful when Moose cornered a snake. He would circle round and round until he spied an opening, then rush in and grab the unfortunate victim about halfway between its head and tail. After a few violent shakes, he would sling it as far as he could with a quick whip of his head. If you were anywhere nearby, you might suddenly see the snake come whirling through the air straight at you. Moose would repeat this vicious procedure over-and-over until the poor snake was either dead or wise enough to remain very still.

Once every year or so, during the summer, Mother would take us to Orange, Texas, to visit our relatives, while our father stayed home and worked. On one occasion, while we were away, Moose treed a possum just after dark in an old thorn tree near the house. Daddy, tired from a long, hard day of work, was not as interested in Moose’s hunting escapades as we were. So, our faithful dog continued to bark, confident that someone would eventually come and pat him on the head for a job well done. The next morning at daylight Daddy could barely hear a faint, Woof, woof. Going outside, he discovered that Moose was still patiently barking, even though he was so hoarse his voice was hardly audible. According to Daddy, he wagged his tail, and had a quizzical look that seemed to say, What took you so long? I suppose the moral of this story is that patience is eventually rewarded for those who refuse to quit!

Everything cannot be solved in a day. Many times patience is required for God’s perfect will to be done! Consider Longfellow's translation of Friedrich vin Logau’s, Retribution.

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small;

Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.