You can read about more fences at the blog carnival here
Fences are these extraordinary things. They can be wooden, metal wire, metal bars, masonry, brick, or even hedges, but they are all boundaries. Fences keep what we want in and what we don't want out. Sometimes we post signs on them letting everyone know why: No Trespassing; Beware of Dog; Explosives. Sometimes it is just a simple Keep Out.
Well, that isn't really so simple, is it? If we could keep them out, we wouldn't need to tell them. We wouldn't need to set such boundaries if we had any control. Fences give us the illusion that we have some control over our lives, our property, our boundary. Some of us even try to do this with our hearts.
I caught myself saying to a friend today,
"I can't believe I was stupid enough to let another dog into my soul."
(For those of you who are cat people, you may not understand this because cats don't gently weasle their way into your heart. They are little demons that take possession of your soul. That's why no one ever asks if cats go to heaven, only dogs. Just kidding.)
I thought I had fenced off my heart after Daisy. Her loss turned me inside out. Chelsea was never supposed to be my dog in the first place. It wasn't supposed to hurt this bad. She is, after all, a dog, right? And yet...
My dear Chelsea is sick and will not make it out of this. I have found a small circle of people who have battled this disease and have somehow found stability. But we will all lose our canine friends. There is no fence around the heart high enough, dense enough, or strong enough to keep these gentle spirits out, or keep our frail hearts from breaking.
I am not sure God would want it any other way.
For my Chelsea