Several years ago, my wife and I were seated at the table drinking coffee. The phone rang. The caller was Elaine, one of our senior adult women. Her voice was trembling. She said, “Pastor, Gidget is dead.” I didn’t know who she was speaking about, so I asked, “Who died?”
Then she explained, “Gidget, my dog has died.” Gidget was her toy poodle. I knew the dog by sight because I had visited her home on occasion. I extended my condolences, wished her well, and said, “Goodbye.”
When I shared the call with Sharon, she gave me that look and said, “You need to go see her.” I replied, “It’s just a dog.” Again, this time with more firmness, Sharon said, “You need to go see her.” (Now, you need to understand that I’m not a fan of house pets, especially small dogs – my kids have three!) Sharon then explained, “That dog was her child, she’s heartbroken.” So, following Sharon’s advice I went to visit my bereaving parishioner.
When I arrived at her home I noticed that the local funeral director was digging a small grave in the back yard. I walked into the home and found Elaine sitting in her rocker holding Gidget in her lap. We talked for a few minutes and then the funeral director walked in and said, “We’re ready.”
We walked to the prepared grave. There was a small casket. Elaine carefully placed Gidget into the casket, as if she were asleep on a pillow. The funeral director closed the casket and lowered it into the grave. And then, he looked over to me and asked, “Preacher, do you want to say a few words?”
I was speechless . . . and unprepared. But suddenly I heard myself reciting the words of the 23rd Psalm. Then I offered a prayer. After a few consoling words to Elaine, I dismissed myself and returned home.
The next week I was reading the local newspaper. In the announcements section Elaine had published Gidget’s obituary and photograph. The last line of the obituary read, “Special thanks to Pastor Dan Tomberlin for conducting the funeral services.”
There are several lessons to be learned from this story. First, trust your wife’s nurturing instincts. Sharon understood what I did not. Pastors need to listen to the people around them. My greatest frustration as a pastor is that I’m not all-knowing. Therefore, I need many eyes and ears to help me shepherd the church. I often exhort my congregation, “Please, help me be your pastor.” Second, one of our roles as pastor is to offer comfort to the afflicted and compassion to the suffering. To me, Gidget was just a dog. But to Elaine, Gidget was her child. Elaine’s grief was real. Sometimes it’s difficult to know how people are feeling, but we must find ways to empathize and demonstrate our compassion. That day, I demonstrated compassion by showing up. Sometimes that’s enough. Sometimes showing up opens the doors to other shepherding opportunities.
