I want to share with you a good grace in my life: I buried my dog Copper Moses yesterday evening.
Many of you have grieved a beloved pet, some of you see it in coming years. This was hard for me.
My Christmas Eve sermon this year highlighted my constant companion Copper, with a picture and the showing of her bowl as a modern day ‘animal food dish’ (the manger). Five days later I learned that in addition to her advanced age (14.5 years) she had a cancerous tumor filling 25% of her lungs. The boys, Angie and I spent their winter break beginning to say goodbye to one of God’s best gifts to us. I did not tell many people because even I need privacy now and then.
Lately, her periodic struggles to breathe and other problems peaked, and her Vet and I decided it’s time.
Mid-day Tuesday my compassionate Veterinary Doctor sat in the floor cradling Copper along with me, and she went to final sleep. And entered whatever intermediate rest is reserved for ‘soulish’ creatures – that word the Bible uses for mammals at the dawn of creation. She is now resting before the restoration of ‘all things.’ I know not what her lot will be on that Great Day, but I know she is covered by the biblical phrase ‘all things.’
Before the end, I was ministered to by Lake Forest Church. The veterinary assistant was a twenty-something young woman who grew up at LFC. She paid special attention to Copper when she was boarded or tended over the past year. So she scheduled herself to help the doctor this day for this task. She asked for time alone with me and Copper, and said ‘would you like for us to pray?’ I nodded yes, and began to pray in grief-cracked voice. Alyssa stopped me – ‘no, you often pray for others, this is my time to minister to you, I was taught well,’ and she prayed the most dear prayer – for me, our family, for Copper, and glorifying God for all of his good gifts.
The cardboard coffin was loaded into my car, and I made a beeline for the place Copper and I shared together, alone, most often – Windy Ridge. My parents 1890’s Virginia farmhouse on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Where I go monthly for sermon writing, prayer and reflection. My car did not smell good as I drove northward, subtracting from any romantic notions I had.
I selected a spot along one of our favorite walks for her burial site and started to dig. Deep, wide and long was the cardboard coffin, so the task was appropriately arduous. Nor did I want wild animals to dig her up. The weather was deep fog with occasional rain, matching my gray mood. Perfect. I could not tell when the fogging of my glasses was from external moisture or my grateful tears.
At seven in the evening I laid her to rest in the dark, placed her leash and a few other tokens in with her, and covered Copper’s body over with the soil of our traversing. Then the rain began in earnest and continued all night. Perfect. Thank you Lord.
Even the Lead Pastor, Moderator and normal Lake Norman dude has need to do this once in a great while – I cancelled everything for the next two days. Some life moments are too great to just move on in normalcy. I needed to just be, and to reflect, in honor of the completion of this great gift I had been given.
Last night (and into today), I sat by the fire and found comfort in the following ways:
Psalms 145-150. These are pure praises to God, such as ‘everything you have made pleases you…comprehending your blessings we sing for joy upon our beds…all you have made praise you.” I listened to these six Psalms read aloud on my Bible app. Wow. My thankfulness to God for Copper Moses is set in an even grander landscape. I am thankful for the good gift of Copper for almost 15 years. God is good, and sovereign. Life is so good, I am okay with God’s decrees, which include endings.
Writing down favorite memories of Copper.
Reading, almost memorizing the poem “The Eager Dog” by Wendell Berry. An American intellectual, agrarian, some say hippie, and Christian. He gives intellectual backup to movements today to live and eat and work ‘close to the land,’ etc. He is a creation-affirming man, poet and Christian. Here is one of his poems, written on a Sunday, that I read and re-read today. It fits me and Copper, especially our blest times at Windy Ridge:
“The eager dog” lies strange and still
Who roamed the woods with me;
Then while I stood or climbed the hill
Or sat under a tree,
Awaiting what more time might say,
He thrashed in undergrowth,
Pursuing what he scared away,
Made ruckus for us both.
He’s dead; I go more quiet now,
Stillness added to me
By time and sorrow, mortal law,
By loss of company
That his new absence has made new.
Though it must come by doom,
This quiet comes by kindness too,
And brings me nearer home,
For as I walk the wooded land
The morning of God’s mercy,
Beyond the work of mortal hand,
Seen by more than I see,
The quiet deer look up and wait,
Held still in quick of grace.
And I wait, stop footstep and thought.
We stand here face to face.”
(This Day: Collected and New Sabbath Poems, Wendell Berry)
Your friend in Christ, and fellow griever of losses (human and creaturely) in this fallen world,
Mike Moses (next week I will post 3 more reflections occasioned by Copper's death)
