What is grief, if not love persevering?

Our dear dog, Bingley, died recently. Named for Mr. Bingley in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, our Bingley was an apricot-blond standard poodle who stood tall and elegant. A people-oriented dog who loved being out and about, Bingley would warmly trot up to neighbors on our street or strangers in the dog park.

While Bingley did get more grumpy with age — after all, who doesn’t? — he retained his warm grace to the very end, when we had to have him put down after his health took a sudden, awful turn.

My wife, our two children and I were devastated. I will never forget sitting in the car and weeping as we prepared to leave for our vacation back east, having seen our precious Bingley pass away just 12 hours earlier.

Bingley was nearly 14 years old and we knew this day was coming sooner rather than later. Still, when the day arrived, it hit us harder than we ever imagined it would.

Nevertheless, our time with Bingley is something we will treasure forever. Our pets fill us with joy and show us grace. Their loss teaches us about grief and connects us with fellow humans, both near and far.

Life with Bingley gave us joy. He chased deer with great excitement. Even as he grew into middle age, he would race to the window when he heard the words “Bingley – squirrel!”

Watching him prance around the neighborhood with the authority of an over-watching guardian helped us feel existentially rooted to our busy lives. His barking whenever we would sing “Happy Birthday” to a family member could be irritating, but he just wanted to be a part of it all. That was Bingley.

Life with Bingley showed us grace. Often when we would discipline him, he would put his head down in repentance. Then would come what I would often refer to as “the extended paw of fellowship.” Even after he had blown it and he was in the doghouse – metaphorically speaking – he still reached for connection. When we reciprocated in reconciliation, he would relax again. All was well. After all, grace abounds, as St. Paul reminds us (Romans 5:20).

Our grief over Bingley connected us with each other and the wider world. As my wife, children and I wept and mourned together, we experienced a family intimacy at another level. Together in our loss, we held the gift of each other. In a way that sounds cliché but is so true, even in leaving us, Bingley was still giving to us.

Such gifts reached beyond our immediate family. As I sat on the plane en route to Pennsylvania the day after Bingley died with my wife and kids nestled across the aisle, to my left sat a father and his young son.

When I shared with him about losing our dog, he offered caring words that spoke healing to my heart. Here was a stranger who made me feel so seen and connected. Jesus said, “Your heavenly knows what you need” (Matthew 6:8). That day, through a stranger on a plane, I experienced Jesus’ promise in my grief.

In the aftermath of Bingley’s passing a little over two months ago, we did not intend to get another dog. But then recently a dog in need of a new home came to our attention. Through a series of surprising events, we now have Sam, a 21/2-year-old golden doodle who is an amazing – and quite unexpected – grace to us

Someone said, “What is grief, if not love persevering?” Indeed. Surely such love is meant to be shared. So here we go again, headlong into joy, grace, and the vulnerability in daring to love.

Thank you, Bingley. And thank you, God, for creating us to love and risk in caring for your creatures.