Last night, I was walking the dogs at dusk. As I came around a street corner, my dogs started to pull and yank at the leashes, hackles raised on their backs. It was clear that the dogs saw or smelled something–they couldn’t settle down. I must have looked like I was driving a chariot with two newly-harnessed horses. These two dogs of mine, they were on high alert. To me, there was nothing to see, nothing out of the ordinary.
It occurred to me that I was observing the invisible–right there in nature. My dogs had the keen ability to see, sense, smell something that I couldn’t discern in a tangible way. Just because I couldn’t see it, didn’t mean that it wasn’t there. Something was there, or had recently been there, and left its mark. I had to trust the effect of the Invisible in the same way that I would trust that there was wind, blowing the tree tops, though I couldn’t see it.
I have a good friend, a lovely kind and gentle person, who doesn’t believe in God. She can’t see God or hear Him, touch Him or feel Him. Thus, to her, He can’t possibly exist.
Maybe it’s a kind of pride that stops my friend from believing in something more. Pride in being a realist, a highly intelligent human. But if dogs can trust their instincts about the invisible, why can’t people?
Anyway, I turned another street corner with the dogs still pulling at their leashes. About 50 yards in front of us, a big, fat skunk lumbered across the street.
Very, very, very glad my dogs “saw” the skunk before I did.