That day

That day arrived.  The one where you catch you breath after seeing the large white envelope in the mail.  Where your fingers can't move fast enough to open it, and your vision blurs instantly with the tears.  She's been matched.

Fourteen months in the kennel, three separate trainers, several sightings by me, and she's done with it all.  Off to live the life she was bred for, giving "independence and dignity" to the blind person she now calls her own.

Few people understand this feeling of loss, and pride simultaneously.  No one finds it easy to give them back, NO ONE.  It's why The Seeing Eye struggles to find families willing to raise their puppies.  There's a searing sense of emptiness for days, even weeks following their departure.  Why not just avoid it all together?  Why even raise a puppy if you'll not see them again?  Sacrifice, that's why.

This culture of ours has lost the art of sacrifice.  Webster's defines it as : "forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one thought to have a greater value or claim."  Raising Ester was a true lesson in sacrifice for our family.  Time, energy, resources, and emotion were invested into her daily.  Did the kids want to go out and play?  Absolutely, but Ester had to be exercised first.  Do we want to go away for the weekend?  Sure, but we had to find dog care for her or we couldn't go.  Ultimately, giving her back to The Seeing Eye meant relinquishing any hold we had on her as a family member.  Her purpose, her role in the future COULD NOT happen without our seeing her future blind person as more valuable than ANY desire we had to keep her.  This is the essence of sacrifice.  Whatever I desire surrounding that puppy, must be less than my desire to see her change a life.

 I'm saddened by the cultural shift in our thinking, as of late.  When raising these puppies, the first question is always- "how do you do it- the giving up?" Why must strangers see the parting as the pivotal moment we raisers have?  There are thousands of moments that define the relationship we build with our puppies.  Hours of training, and exposure, and of course, love, go into making them well rounded and adventurous. The shame is in wiping out all of those moments, for the one that is the hardest.  When we allow hard moments to keep us from doing good, and right for others, we have welcomed selfishness in it's place.

That's not the kind of place I want my home to be.  So we press on, loving that fact that we have successfully raised a working Seeing Eye dog. 

"Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others as more significant than yourselves." Philippians 2:3