Recognizing What’s Important

by Kevin on December 19, 2010

I had a dog that my brother and dad brought me while I was living on the San Pedro Ranch in South Texas. This dog was half blue heeler and half border collie. I named him Woodrow (as in Captain Woodrow Call from Lonesome Dove). None of the other guys on the ranch could speak English and that name proved to be a little to tough for them. They just called him Weedthrow.

I didn’t have that dog but about a week when we left headquarters to go gather cattle. We rode horseback from there, so I put Woodrow in the fancy yard with the tall cinder block fence. This fence was about four foot tall. Woodrow was just bigger than a little puppy so I though sure that fence would hold him. That dog wanted to go so bad that he jumped the fence and came with us.

The cattle got pretty riled up that day and Woodrow and I got separated about ten miles from headquarters. When we had finished gathering, I rode all the way back through that pasture calling his name. I climbed up on windmills and just hollered and hollered. I was devastated. See, that dog had become my best friend in a short amount of time. That was a pretty low time in my life and I grew up a lot on that ranch. I was a long way from home. I was the only one that spoke English and I had just broke up with the girl that at one time I thought I would marry. Any of those things by themselves can be really rank, but you throw in losing your new best friend and it just kind of seemed the world had turned mean against me.

When I got back to the bunkhouse, one of the ranch hands ask me in Spanish if I had found “Weedthrow”. I told him I had not and he could tell I was pretty shook up about it. He smiled at the other guys and said he was really sorry about that dog. It was a very good dog. In fact, he was such a good dog that “Weedthrow” was laying on the porch inside the yard when they got back. I rushed to the house and sure enough, there he was.

I had to give that dog away when I decided to go back to college. He definitely wasn’t a city dog. My brother had a friend that needed a dog to exercise his sheep. I gave Woodrow to him. He turned out to be so good at it that he was stolen, not once, but two different times.

I went to see my best friend only once before he was stolen for good. He had already been stolen once and Chad had him locked up on a chain in his front yard while no one was there. I pulled up in front of that house and saw old Woodrow laying up under the porch. I rolled down the window on my truck and in a low voice I called out, “Hey Weedthrow”. That dog’s head came up and he looked me right in the eye. When he recognized me he went into a cryin’ fit and was biting on that chain trying to get loose so he could come to me. I thought he was going to really hurt himself they way he was pulling so hard against that chain. Woodrow had recognized me and wanted to come back with me. I never looked back as I drove away. Shoot, I could barely see to drive because of the tears streaming down my face.

Luke 24:35

Then the two from Emmaus told their story of how Jesus had appeared to them as they were walking along the road, and how they had recognized him as he was breaking the bread.

It’s time today to start recognizing who our Lord is. Every good thing is a gift from the Lord. Recognizing where our strength comes from, recognizing where our comfort is, and recognizing our need for forgiveness is what we should strive for every day.

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  • Mike McMurry

    I lost Old Blondie my hound dog one evening late when she left San Pedro running a big boar hog into the Faith Ranch next door. Hunted her half the night …and found her on the steps of the office next AM curled up asleep waiting for me.

    Lost her son Junior (Walker) in Carrizo Springs one pm late.
    At breakfast he sounded the alarm when Marcelo drove up at the Holloway HQ at 7AM the next morning…20miles or better airline overnight he’d come home.
    I prayed to find both of them… but sometimes the dogs have more Faith than we do.

    Merry Christmas y’all.

  • This is a powerful story man, thanks for sharing. It makes me really ask myself: when was the last time I tried that hard to get to Jesus? When was the last time I was biting and tearing and pulling at the chains that bind me in an effort to get closer to Him?

  • Vicki L Fisher

    Loved the story. God does give us what we need. My Grandmother use to work on the San Pedro ranch back in the Late 30s Early 40s. She was a Government trapper and would live there a month, then go to town for the weekend and would go back and work another month.

    • Kevin

      Wow Vicki….I had no idea. What a small world it really is.

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