Mad at God

I don't know how else to describe my feelings, except to say simply that I am mad at God. Why, you might ask? This Christmas was to be a magical time for my son; he was to get a new dog. It is all he wanted for Christmas. He wrote me a note telling me that he did not want any other gift...and he promised to take care of all the pet's needs. He waited to tell me and to show me the note he wrote so nicely. His older brother spoiled the timing...making light of the note. When I saw my son, and the emotions he displayed, I knew in a moment that I was standing on holy ground.

A dog he wanted, a dog he would receive.

Christmas day came and he received a card from his parents stating that he could indeed get the pet. He was overjoyed. He began searching and talking...talking and searching. The whole family got into the moment.

And then we found her. The most beautiful Golden Retriever puppy you've ever seen. She seemed perfect! My son chose her; and then he named her Izzy Cooper. Her nickname was Izzy Bear.

On the first day we brought her home, Izzy appeared unstable. Later, she developed diarrhea. She was despondent and lethargic. My wife and I agreed it was time to take her to the local vet's office; we wanted to ensure she was okay and to help her in any way. My son and I took her. The vet was concerned and suggested Izzy might have a liver shunt. Never hearing of such, I asked if it was serious. She said it could be very serious. The vet took blood and told us we would know more definitively today. The vet also gave Izzy some medications for other minor challenges.

The next morning, Izzy was a new dog! She felt great. She bounded all about with the reckless joy of a pup. My little boys were enthralled with Izzy...especially my son who was now her proud owner. (He had given all of his money to buy Izzy Bear.)

Day and long night we watched Izzy, much like we watched our newborn babies! She seemed to be strong and vivacious...a real pistol.

And then the call came this morning from the vet. The blood work did not look good. The vet was sure Izzy was a sick little puppy, having only weeks to months to live. Her problems would most likely require costly and risky surgery; and the surgery might not have fixed the medical problems.

My son showed great character for a little boy, when we discussed how best to provide for Izzy. He thought she should go back home to her mother and dad to live out her life in the joy of family. (I weep even as I write these words. A little boy of 10 should not have to make such a choice.) My youngest son, who grows very attached to others, simply could not bear the thought of Izzy leaving. His were sorrowful tears.

Izzy is back home. Her mom will care for her.

And my wife and I will care for our little boys.

Separation and loss are life-altering events. Little boys should not have to lose those whom they love. As a little boy of 8, with a little brother of 6, I lost my mother; she decided it was best for that she simply abandon us. As I understand it, my parents were divorced then. As a practice, my brother and I would go to my dad's house on the weekend. My mother would pick us up on Sunday night. One Sunday night, she failed to show up. I don't think we saw her again for 12 years.

Eight and six year old little boys should not bear the loss of love in such a manner. And while I know the loss of a little puppy is not the same as the loss of a mother, I am reliving the pain nevertheless. I hurt for my little boys; to God I wish they did not have to bear this burden.

If all things work together for good, then what's the possible good in all of this? I'm 52 and cannot understand God's purpose in little Izzy's health problems. How can little boys make sense of it.

God, I'm mad at you.