Come, See, Get Settled In

Our three-year-old dog, Chubby, is what is called in canine parlance “under socialized.” He has spent very little time around people outside of our family or around other dogs. His world has been a house with a large, fenced backyard. And that’s always been enough.

He’s never been good with new people—and typically growls like we finally completely lost our minds and let Rasputin in the front door. But that’s hasn't been a problem, until recently when he had an “incident” with another dog (its owner was walking it in front of our house, when Chubby escaped) that’s forcing the issue of introducing Chubby to the outside world.

So for the past couple of weeks I’ve been working on the Chubby problem. I’ve taken him to Petsmart a couple of times to practice being around other dogs and people. He’s been to the vet. At 50 pounds, he shouldn’t be afraid of much. But on a walk yesterday in our neighborhood as we approached a strip of sidewalk cafes filled with children, people and dogs, he bolted like a horse, dug in his heels and began shivering. The trainer at the pet store was right, I thought: Chubby’s biggest problem is fear of the unknown.

Anyway, I coaxed him through the Saturday afternoon crowd, found a seat and sat down for a cold drink so he could soak up the atmosphere, the reality that in general other people and other dogs are fairly benign. (Because he’s a dog, I did not point out to Chubby that most people and dogs are usually too concerned with their own issues to even notice yours.)

By the time we got back to the house, Chubby’s ears had perked up and he seemed a more confident and happy dog for the experience.

Now I know people are not dogs—at least most of them aren’t—but it occurred to me this morning as I was watching movies made by the children of St. Dunstan's (posted elsewhere on this site) that in a church context, people who grow up in church from the beginning are at a distinct advantage in terms of well-being and security in what it
means to be a part of a spiritual community. There is never a question of what all these strange words are, what the greater spiritual meaning might be, the sacraments, the many personalities—it’s as natural as a first language. For cradle Episcopalians (and other denominations and religions) there’s nothing to be afraid of, no fear of a misstep or misunderstandings or of not being accepted.

While that’s the perfect situation (believe me I would do this over with my own children and I’m already pushing for a church home for any future grandchildren I might have) I think there’s a lot to be said for the “under churched” just coming in and hanging around, soaking up the atmosphere, whether they understand any of it or not.

I’ve heard many times people look down their noses at Easter Lilies or surly teenagers who come to church because “my mother made me.” But I never have any problem with that. I think the author Sara Miles got it right when she said, “come and see.” I would add to that, come and see again next week. Then come for movie night this summer. Then come because it’s someone’s birthday or mother’s day or simply because you
have nothing better to do. Or because you’ve been asked to dig holes for Stations of the Cross. Or because there’s a lecture. Come, see, and get settled in. Everything else will take care of itself.