At the start of my evening walk the other day, a silver pick-up truck slowed down beside me. In the driver’s seat was a big, burly man, his face forlorn. He asked if I had seen his dog, Ranger, a mostly black German shepherd who had run off chasing some deer that had been grazing in his backyard. I told him that I had not seen Ranger, but that I would be on the look-out for him as I walked, since the majority of my walk is in the more secluded areas of our neighborhood where I usually do get to see deer. He thanked me, gave me his address (in hopes that I would find Ranger and be able to escort him home), and went on his way, slowly driving the roads and scanning through backyards and trees.

As I continued on my walk – a 2&1/2 mile journey that weaves through cul-de-sacs and next to a large wooded area with little traffic – I also set my eyes on finding Ranger, especially in spots where I sometimes catch sight of deer. Occasionally, the forlorn man would drive by and wave, twice stopping again to ask if I had caught sight of his beloved Ranger. During those stops, I learned that Ranger was a 2-year-old retired police dog, who was very well-trained and would come to me if I called him by name. I also learned that Ranger had to retire because his bite wasn’t strong enough for police work. Oh, and that he kind of loses his mind when he sees squirrels. It was obvious that this man loved his Ranger and would not be resting easy until they were reunited.

At the last part of my walk, which happened to be closer to the road where Ranger’s home was, I saw the silver truck turn down the road to home. I could not see the driver’s face from where I was, but even the truck seemed forlorn at this point, slowly returning to home, droopy in defeat. Still no Ranger. And, it was at that moment, that I caught sight of a black blur out of the side of my eye. Digging under the fence of a yard with two yippy dogs was a black German shepherd. I called out, “Ranger!” The dog’s head lifted at the sound of his name, tongue dripping with perspiration, eyes wild from the adventure. Once he saw me – a stranger – he went right back to trying to get to the other dogs behind the fence. I walked closer, continuing to call his name, and finally got Ranger’s attention. He allowed me to pet him and talk to him, and I very poorly attempted to herd him back home. Thankfully, at that point, I saw the silver truck again, about a block away – not defeated, but still searching, and waved frantically in the direction of Ranger, who had shot off after a squirrel.

No longer forlorn, the big, burly man stopped his truck, leapt from the driver’s seat and called out, “RANGER!” As if in a movie, I watched all motion stop as Ranger’s head jolted away from the squirrel and towards the voice of his dad. When his sight confirmed the voice his ears had heard was his dad, he bolted to him and they were reunited. My heart warmed as I watched the big, burly man’s face turn from despair to absolute joy. I ran over to congratulate the pair and take a picture. The big, burly man – whose name was Bob – thanked me profusely for helping, we exchanged a few goofy pleasantries and then parted ways.

My heart glowed for the remainder of the night. But it wasn’t until the next day that the story sunk in for me on a deeper level. Ranger’s behavior that night was symbolic of how I have often run from my Heavenly Father. I’ll be with Him in peaceful union and then all of a sudden, something will distract me, and off I go. For me, the wonder of that is that every single time I somehow find my way back to God, He calls to me with a joyous face, just like that of Ranger’s father, Bob. What I was privileged to see in this scenario, was the face of God through Ranger’s dad, Bob. As he searched and searched slowly scanning in all the places Ranger might have gone, his face grew more and more concerned, yet he never stopped searching – he never gave up. He also enlisted help from his neighbors – not just me, but a few other folks I passed during my walk were also searching for Ranger, having had similar interactions with Bob. Had we not found Ranger, I believe Bob and that silver truck would have been scanning the neighborhood all evening, and most likely posting “Lost Dog” signs on trees and road signs the next day. That’s God. He will never stop looking for me. He will never stop calling to me. He will enlist help from others he knows will also search for me and attempt to herd me back in His direction. And when I finally respond to His call once again, He will open His arms and welcome me with absolute joy, just like Bob did for Ranger.