guest post by Carol Reynolds, pastor at Scottsdale Congregational UCC
If you’ve been to church recently, you’ve probably noticed that there’s a new…um…tail in town. And perhaps you’ve also wondered aloud or to yourself, “What’s up with that? What’s up with the dog?” After all, the annual animal blessing is still another couple of months off. Typically that’s the only time we see animals inside the church. Well, the dog’s name is Brandi, and she is a special pooch. I know, I know, all of our pets are special. But, as Zach, a few other people, and I discovered several weeks ago, Brandi possesses spiritual gifts.
Brandi was originally Robert’s dog. He and partner Zach adopted her together 6 years ago, when she was 5-6 years old. She was a stray they found at the PetSmart adoption center. For 6 years, as Robert navigated life in a wheelchair, with a trach, and many, many health complications, Brandi was his faithful companion. She didn’t get bored. She was perfectly happy to be by his side and love on him and whomever else happened to be in the house. She’d bark a lot when you first arrived, but soon she’d be curled up on your lap like a teddy bear, her bark way worse than her bite.
When Robert entered hospice this summer, it seemed like the right time to bring Brandi on a pastoral visit. In my experience, our companion animals know us so intimately and can thus provide comfort and healing in a very powerful way. So I proposed the idea to Zach, and he readily agreed. We’d head up to Peoria after worship and Diving Deeper. Sure enough, when we got there, Brandi was immediately on Robert’s bed, then curled up on his chest. It was clear to us that she knew he wasn’t doing very well. Her care for him and the love-sadness that emanated from her were at once profoundly beautiful and tragic to observe. I honestly wouldn’t have expected anything less from their farewell.
What I hadn’t anticipated was that Brandi would come to fellowship to wait for me and that she’d minister to people there as well. When I walked out of the conference room into Bond Hall, not only was Brandi there, but she was joyfully prancing around everyone there, delighting in each and every person she encountered. Michele recounted to me how earlier Brandi had even more exuberantly leapt from lap to lap to lap. Not one person there wasn’t beaming at the sight and stories of her.
Very quickly I made the connection between Brandi and a poodle I’d known in Massachusetts. “She’s a ministry dog!” I exclaimed, remembering my friend Debbie had acquired Jeannie for this very purpose after she hadn’t quite met the mark in service dog school. (Jeannie had skills, but apparently she didn’t want to work quite that hard and, given how smart poodles are, she’d managed to figure out a way around it.) Jeannie would come to meetings with Debbie and, by her very presence, lower the blood pressures of everyone in the room. All on her own, she’d seek out the one autistic boy in worship and sit by his side for the whole service. Those were the kind of ministry tasks she performed. Brandi has none of the training, but apparently has a natural gift. And it seems that Zach really took my exclamation about her to heart: Every Sunday since then he has brought Brandi with him to worship and fellowship. Not only that, but they arrive early so that they can greet people as they enter the church.
Brandi loves people of all ages and sizes. It’s obvious from the way her tail goes a mile a minute whenever she encounters a new person, as well as how she rubs up against them, and gives them little kisses, and even hints that she’d like to be picked up. Recently she met a little boy who was new to the church and afraid of dogs. Zach didn’t find this out about the boy until after he’d had a lovely encounter with Brandi. Apparently, since that meeting, his phobia has been drastically reduced, if not eliminated altogether. In worship Brandi has made a point of sitting with people who were crying, and leads the congregation to the communion table with warm, enthusiastic greetings along the way, reminding us that this is, after all, a feast of joy, anticipation of the kin-dom of God’s love and justice we hope to one day be a part of. Come to think of it, Brandi’s unconditionally loving presence is a bit like God’s…
Brandi’s timing couldn’t be more perfect. With as much division and tension as there is in the world these days, she gives us permission to laugh and smile and exchange knowing glances about just how unbearably sweet and cute she is. She unites us in a very positive way on our ways to the communion table. Beyond this, she provides a concrete way for Robert’s spirit to live on among us. While we in turn provide her with a ton of love and attention and a brand-new sense of purpose. Perhaps we minister to her as much as she does to us. Whatever it is that’s transpiring between Brandi and the congregation, it’s a beautiful thing to behold, and I rejoice in it.
