Marking My Territory

My dogs, Jack and Sophie, love their walks.  They enjoy any road that I take them on, but the place that they seem to most enjoy visiting is Manito Park--a beautifully landscaped mix of water, flowers, and dirt trails a couple of miles from our home.

On their walks, Jack and Sophie like to do the common dog things.  They sniff, they bark, they strut, and they do their personal business.  Sometimes that business is a physical requirement, but often, it is far more significant than the relieving of a bladder: it is an intentional effort to mark a certain spot as their own--to claim it as a territory.  I suppose it is a dog's way of sticking a flag into the ground.

Jack, as the boy, is funny to watch because he just walks around and lifts his leg on things that apparently do not smell as if they belong to him.  Then, after he walks away, Sophie approaches the same spot that Jack has just marked.  With a deliberate squat, she erases Jack's ownership and puts her own seal in place.  Then she moves on.  Who knows how long it will be before the next canine comes by and relieves Jack and Sophie of all their real estate claims? 

It is interesting to note that my dogs never actually own any land.  It doesn't matter how many times they sprinkle on any particular patch of grass or dirt, they will never own it.  I give Jack and Sophie a yard to run in.  And I take them to parks to play in.  They like what they see and say, "This is mine.  I claim it with the magic of my pee."  But the spot never actually becomes theirs, no matter how strongly they might believe otherwise.  The yard and the park are only beautiful places that I have given them, or taken them to, for their enjoyment.  My sharing beautiful things with them does not create possession.  In a minute, an hour, a day, or a few years, they will have to leave their claim behind.  It has served its purpose of bringing them enjoyment. 

This world is not our home.  God gave it to us to find enjoyment in, but also so that we might see how wonderful a gift-giver He is.  I can put a flag in it, throw money at it, and even pee on it--but it won't matter: I can never own the world or the things in it.  I can only enjoy them for a little while, in the process learning to love the actual owner and the giver of all things.  Then I will move in.

I hope that Jack and Sophie do not like the places that I take them better than they like me.  And I hope that they will learn to love me more because of the joy I find in blessing them.

I think God hopes we do not like this world more than we like Him.  And I think that He hopes we learn to love Him more richly because we are fully aware that He is the giver of all good things.