Death is a myth

There is no death. Death is but a myth, a feeble attempt to explain the inexplicable. For, what is "death"? "Death" marks the end of a body, a cessation of breath. But is the "end" really the end? The "end" does not mark life's final chapter. A life, or soul if you will, is so much more than the 30 seconds spent on earth. A life is eternal. Life does not need to body to exist. It will go on long after the body fails it. The question remains: where will your life go? Two paths present themselves: life apart from God or life with God. Life apart from God is marked by suffering, pain, torment, fear, isolation, agony. Forever. Life with God is marked by belonging, worship, embracing, joy, fearlessness. Forever. The choice is yours, but make it well, for when your body quits it is just the beginning.

Why I Believe In God

Many Christians have great stories about how they came to believe in God and have a relationship with Him. For some, it started when they were at the lowest point in their lives, and through their despair they saw the light of God's salvation. For others, it involved studying about religion, and finding a relationship with God to be the most fulfilling promise of all religions.

I have often wondering what it was in my life that caused me to believe in God. Was it an event? Was it a thought process? Why does anyone believe in God? It certainly can't be because it makes sense to believe in God. Almost everything about God defies human logic and reason. In a recent interview with CNN, Virgin CEO Richard Branson said "If somebody could convince me there is a God, it would be wonderful."

After some searching, I have concluded that the reason I believe in God is simply because He caused me to believe.

The Loss of a Friend

I'll never forget the first time I saw her. She was huddled in the backseat of an old station wagon with one of her siblings, wood shavings all over the seats and floor. "Whadda ya think?? She's gorgeous, ain't she??" said the toothless wonder who welcomed her into the world. Bonita was her name. She raised German Shepherds on her farm in the middle of Podunk, Oregon. This lady was the epitome of redneck. She would shoot and kill deer on her property and feed it to the dogs. The farm was, without a doubt, every dog's dream.

"Well, normally I charge about $600 a pup, but if you ain't gonna show the dog or breed 'em, and don't need their papers, I'll give 'er to ya for half off." We didn't have much money, but both Mary and I are huge dog people, growing up with them our whole lives. Having been married for a year and a half at that point, we thought a dog would make a nice addition to the family. I'll never forget riding home that afternoon, a shivering little puppy curled up on my lap. She was so skittish and timid, but it was only a matter of time before her playful side would emerge.

Our first day home. She was so scared, but I laid with her on the floor almost all night.

Our cat, Jake, didn't know what to think at first. What began as curiosity quickly turned to fear, then annoyance, then flat-out bitterness. Billie was about the size of a cat when we first brought her home, and the two of them would tear through our little apartment non-stop. Years later, at nearly 70 lbs., Billie still continued thinking she was a cat and constantly pick fights with Jake, and she would usually end up running away with her tail between her legs.

Billie and Jake: frienemies from the start.

The apartment we lived at during this time was about a 10 minute walk from the river, so we would take Billie there often. There was a little-known island on the river, about the size of a grocery store, that, when the water is low, you can walk out to. We would take off her leash and just play for hours.

As Billie grew older and we would go for hikes, she was never more than 20 feet ahead of us, before she would look back and make sure we were ok. This would become one of the traits that most clearly defined Billie: her care and love for our family. She truly was the "shepherd" in German Shepherd.

"Just makin' sure you guys are ok!"

Maybe it was the nasty river water, maybe it was another dog, but I swear Billie contracted just about every bacteria known to man that first year. We would regularly wake up to find her in her kennel covered in her own mess. The poor dog...and the poor man who had to clean up after her! And that's the thing about dogs: you feed them, clean up after them, take care of them and it's hard work, but you get so much more in return. As I'm sitting here writing this post while trying not to lose it completely, I'm not just reminiscing about a dog. I'm remembering the time she chased off another dog who was threatening me and Wyatt. I'm thinking back to the time that we would go to the island and I would run off and hide behind some rocks, and no matter how hard I tried she would always find me. I'm thinking about the times she and Wyatt would just spend hours out in the backyard, bathing in the sunshine and sharing in the mutual love of warm grass. So, no, I'm not just remembering a dog; I'm remembering family.

I didn't expect losing her to be this hard. I had lost family dogs growing up, but I was either too young or too far away to be greatly affected like I am now. And telling Wyatt, our 3 year old, about her plight, that's a whole different story. I didn't expect him to comprehend much, but I realize how much I constantly under-estimate that boy. Explaining to him that Billie wasn't coming back, that she was going to heaven forever, having him cling to me in tears not understanding why he can't go with her, is one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life so far. Wyatt lost a playmate, and constant companion in his life, and he grew up a little bit that day.

Best friends.

Getting to hold Billie in my arms, much like I did that first day we met, as her life slowly slipped away is a memory I will never forget and cherish forever. We will have other dogs in our family, and those dogs will pass away, and we will live in this constant circle of life and death, but for a brief moment in time there was Billie.

Rest in peace, Bill-Bill. 2/10/2008 - 4/2/2012.