Good Friday cleanup

By Pastor John Hulden

I got out voted. Again.

First it was a golden retriever named Addey. All four of our kids, along with my wife Becky, used democracy to their advantage for a dog to enter our family home. It was fine. She was “a good dog” and very laid back. Then, after Addey died, not too long after, another family vote didn’t go my way. This time it was not for one dog, but two! We added two rambunctious black labs: Thunder and Lightning.

“I suppose I’m not a pet guy because I never had dogs or cats growing up.”

Okay, I have a confession about pets and me. Some of my loved ones accuse me of being deficient in some way, or uncaring, because I’m just not a pet guy. As is borne out by early voting trends, the rest of my family likes pets. Our two oldest adult kids each have a dog. Our two youngest adult kids have cats.

I suppose I’m not a pet guy because I never had dogs or cats growing up. I had a goldfish, once – brought home in a little plastic bag of water – but that was short lived, literally. I also, yes, had a little turtle. But again, that was short lived – and stinky. Once my turtle escaped, somehow, and my mom found it climbing out of her purse in the checkout line at the grocery store. Or maybe my seven-year-old imagination dreamed that it happened that way. There are not many heart-warming pet stories for me growing up.

 

IT WAS THE SPRING when the two new black labs came to our house, and Thunder and Lightning hit the ground running and running and running. Our back yard was instantly muddy – thanks to those pups’ huge paws that wrecked all the lawn that was trying to come back after a long Moorhead winter.

Under the guise of “it would be good for Thunder and Lightning,” we constructed a dog park in a big section of our backyard. We added many tons of pea gravel, climbing platforms made from throw away lumber from Menards, a picket fence, and a dog run to the garage into a kennel. Of course, my family knew this project was to appease me. At least a small section of backyard would have green grass and be free of Thunder and Lightning strikes, … that is, poop.

“On a Good Friday afternoon – between worship services – I grabbed a bucket and the pooper scooper and went to work.”

Usually by Holy Week, the snow in the back yard would be melting (unlike this past week when winter snows arrived after weeks of spring weather). You can guess what was revealed in our backyard dog park after a very long winter. The aptly named pea gravel was full of poop.

On a Good Friday afternoon – between worship services – I grabbed a bucket and the pooper scooper and went to work. For some reason once I started, I wasn’t the bitter dad who grumped about doing something my kids should have been doing.  And that really surprised me. It felt good to do something solitary, helpful, and earthy on a Good Friday afternoon. Every subsequent Good Friday I’d go out with my bucket to take care of the Thunder and Lightning strikes.

Why do I tell you this? I’m not entirely sure, but I’ll leave you with this:

May your Holy Week be full of stories, images, memories, emotions, prayers, music, meaning, quiet, community, and helpful preparations, … as we all come together at the end of this holiest of weeks to hear the best sacrificial and surprising love story ever lived or told.