My Aslan

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8 NLT

My dog had died a couple of years earlier, and I desperately wanted another one, but then I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Getting a new dog had to be put on hold for a while. There would be treatments and surgeries to recover from. My husband often reminded me that a new puppy would not be a good idea until I was on my way to recovery. I went on a lot of walks between chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation that year, dreaming of future walks with my new dog. I had already named him Aslan after the lion in the Chronicles of Narnia.

When I was back on my feet, my husband surprised me by putting me on the list for a new Shih Tzu. Every two weeks I got to visit the litter. It was then that I realized there is nothing better than being in a pile of puppies. I knew exactly which one I wanted. He had a beautiful plume of white fur between his eyes like a soft, willowy feather. But when I held him, he cried. When the day came to take my puppy home, I picked up one I had never paid much attention to or taken a picture of. I whispered in his ear while everyone else was talking, “Are you, Aslan?” His dark eyes looked up at me and never looked away. He was my Aslan. We did everything together from that day forward. He was my emotional support dog after having cancer, even though he had never been trained to be one.

You can imagine my surprise when he went blind right after his fifth birthday. It was sudden, almost overnight. The pain of watching him stumble and run into things was almost too much to bear. I was used to seeing him exuberantly chasing the ball as many times as I was willing to throw it for him. Our life together had always been busy, like a city market buzzing with shoppers, vendors, music, and laughter. Now he sat still, confused and cautious, and I didn’t know how to help him.

The rare condition he had been diagnosed with is called SARDS. I call it SADDS. I cried out to God through gut-wrenching tears, “Why, Lord? Why, my Aslan?” As I poured my heart out, I recalled the tear bottles I had seen in the shops in Israel. It was explained, just as Psalm 56:8 says, that God collects each of His children’s tears in a bottle. Our suffering has a purpose, and not one of our sorrows goes unnoticed by God. Jesus’s bottle held the tears of the whole world.  

It’s very difficult when we want answers, and we don’t get any. Why do we experience loss and unfulfilled prayers? Why did my dog go blind? We live in a fallen world, “but God” changes everything, and He promises to work all things together for our good if we trust Him. Do you trust Him today?

Prayer: Caring Father, thank You that I can be confident that You always work ALL things together for my good