When the Dog Bites

It's mostly healed now.  Mostly.

On Christmas Eve, with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, I went out for an afternoon jog around the neighborhood.  Just up a nearby street, a small dog (with sharp teeth!) ran out to "greet" me with some Christmas cheer.  I limped home, but not after asking the man who'd called out after the dog if the dog had all his shots.  I wasn't particularly interested in getting a case of rabies as a memento of the holidays.

"Not my dog," he said, as he quickly walked into a house.  "Just helping a friend."

Now, you might expect that once he, or perhaps the dog's caretaker, learned that I'd been bitten there would have been some sign of concern for my well-being.  Unfortunately, whatever spirit they were in, it was not one of care or (dare I say it?) remorse.  Not even an "Are you OK?"

Like I said, the dog bite is mostly healed now.  There was no infection, no rabies.  But I have to be honest, there's a little more healing needed.  You see, the lack of concern shown me has left me bitter and angry toward these strangers.  I've thought about ways to get back--maybe calling animal control or putting up warning posters on their street...I even stopped by the police department to see if they could do something.  And while I have a genuine concern that the dog may be a menace to others less hale and hearty than I, at this point my real concern is this:  how do I let it go and forgive?  How do I truly heal?

Maybe you've been bitten a time or two in the past too. Maybe you've walked away from a situation or encounter feeling wounded.  Time has helped heal things, sure, but beneath the surface there's more healing that needs to happen.  What can you do?  Should you just let it gnaw away at you?  Would you feel better if it could somehow be resolved?  Is there something you can do to help heal the wound?  And what if the other parties involved aren't interested?  Then what?

Forgiveness is a tricky thing--it's hard to do alone and hard to live without.  But in the end, if we don't even try, those old wounds will never heal.  And maybe, in the end, it's in the trying--in the reaching out--in the desire--that the real healing happens.

"How many times should I forgive?"

Here's to a 2015 overflowing with healing and hope: less growling and more healing!  If you enjoy reading, pass them on--invite your friends to subscribe to these occasional posts too at www.realacorns.blogspot.com.

(c) Steve Fiechter, 2015