Thursday, July 29, 2010

A lesson learned through puppy love

It is a dog eat dog world out there, but every once in a while, you need a dog to show you what really matters in life.
I have a little sister whom I love dearly. When we were children, we would often be grounded together for one reason or another (it often involved one party making a snarky comment to a parent and causing the other to laugh or a bad report card).
We would pass the summer days when we were grounded by making up ridiculous stories and using the home video camera to document them. One particular video consisted of me falling out of a chair which we filmed for about an hour and still laugh about to this day.
However, in recent years, my connection with my sister was critically injured by the monster that devours relationships — addiction. My sister went to college and encountered a partying lifestyle she had not been familiar with at home. She was thrown into the deep end of this lifestyle and almost drowned.
My family intervened and helped her seek assistance for her addiction. It was a hard process for the whole family and extremely hard on me, because I felt I was a reason she was there.
As an older brother, I always felt it was my job to protect my sister and when I was in another state and knew she was living a dangerous lifestyle, there was nothing I could do to help her. I felt crippled and afraid I would hear something horrible had happened to her and would be helpless to do anything.
When she finally got the help she needed, I was still weak from being helpless to protect her, but I was also angry at the way she had betrayed my trust.
As addiction does with so many, it had driven her to lie and betray the people she cared most about. I was foolish and believed it was a personal strike against me, not having the knowledge of how powerful something like addiction can be and how much it can reek havoc on a person’s mind and soul.
As a brother scorned, I would often lash out at my sister at family outings or avoid having contact with her altogether. She had hurt me and I was angry.
Then something happened. I adopted a puppy.
Two months ago, one of my wife’s co-workers found a box of puppies on the side of the road in the snow. She couldn’t keep the dogs, so Sarah sent me a photo of one to see what I thought. My first reaction when I saw the photo was, “bring him home immediately.”
When she brought Whirley home, we were both instantly in love with the pup. We loved playing with him, watching him play and just having him lie beside us, content with life.
One night, while driving home, a still, small voice many know about told me I should call my sister so she could meet her new four-legged family member. My immediate response was to protest because I was foolishly happy avoiding contact with my sister and any pain she might cause me.
I accidently dropped my dog off the couch that day and he hurt his leg. I apologized profusely and explained that I didn’t mean for it to happen, but he didn’t care. He loved me anyway.
I realized I had been called to love my sister always because she was my sister. She was my little sister and it was my job to protect her and love her, even if it meant I may get hurt in doing so.
I called her and invited her to come hang out with the family. She was convinced my mother had put me up to it, but it was my Father. When I picked her up at her dorm room, she told me she was sorry Mom had made me do this.
I told her I was tired of being angry and I wanted to have a relationship with her. I want to be her friend and I want her to feel like I am there for her — because I am.
Since that time, I have spent several weekends with my sister and have felt the connection I once thought would never re-kindle burn brighter and brighter. I am loving every second I get to watch my relationship with my sister grow along with my dog — whose head could barely fit above the toilet a month ago and is now often found in it.
Life is too short and too hard to stay mad at people. Is it easier? Yes. But the reward of forgiveness is greater than anything you can comprehend. Many people may believe there are things you just can’t forgive, and maybe they are right.
But why not try?
In the end, I can be successful at any job or hobby, but nothing feels as good as when my sister called me last week and asked me for advice for the first time in five years.

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