As a counselor, I believe that the only way to truly heal from the wounds of our past is through loving, healthy, healing relationships with those around us. I have seen an accepting, caring, genuine relationship heal a great number of deep wounds in many individuals. I have also seen these relationships heal wounds in my own life. In school, I learned technique after technique designed to help bring healing to people's lives. Yet, time and again, I have found that the use of techniques is not what heals. The relationship is what heals. Relationships are dynamic, ever growing and changing, messy, and beautiful. I have come to believe that in working with children, trust is built within a loving, accepting, authentic relationship based on empathy, respect, and fair boundaries. I have discovered over and over again that people are motivated to change and become better through loving, patient acceptance of who they currently are, sins and all. I know beyond any doubt that my salvation and sanctification come through Christ's loving acceptance of me in spite of my sins and continued grace for me. And yet, until recently, I had this mistaken belief that somehow, my relationship with my dog did not apply to these same standards.
When we adopted Bayley, she was fearful, timid, and unresponsive to us. She did not trust us. She would not go in her crate. She would not play. She would not bark. She did not eat well. She drank from puddles outside instead of drinking the water we gave her from the sink. In our attempts to bring healing to our beloved dog, we began to find some hopeful answers in the work of Cesar Milan. He is well known for rehabilitating fearful dogs. So, I watched his television show and read some of his books. We learned many techniques that we began to apply with Bayley. And, to our amazement, these techniques worked! We taught Bayley that we could be trusted, that we were on her side, that we would not hurt her, and that in our responses to her, we always wanted her best. She began to eat eagerly, drink from her bowl, gladly run to her crate, and play with us regularly.
Pleased with the progress Bayley had made, I began to attribute all of our successes (and failures) to the proper or improper use of our techniques. Then, a few weeks ago, I started to chat with a friend of mine who mentioned to me some concerns she has found in the techniques of Cesar Milan. I began to research and consider my thoughts on this topic and she also offered me some reading materials to assist me in exploring different points of view.
One of the materials she gave me is a book called, "Bones Would Rain from the Sky". As I have been reading this book, I have been astonished by how much the author speaks about the relationships we have with our dogs. She believes in the need for mutual respect as well as for your dog to view you as the leader in the home. But, she identifies and acknowledges that dogs have feelings and needs. These feelings and needs are not the same as those of humans, but they are valid nonetheless. Developing mutual respect and leadership with your dog, she asserts, is not based on a list of rules or techniques but is based in relationship. In reading this book, I have been brought back to the basics, it seems. I have been reminded more and more that what I love most about life, people, and counseling is the aspect of relationship!
I don't yet know where I stand on all the various techniques and theories of dog training and behavior that are out there, and I look forward to learning more about this topic. But, one thing I have learned as I have been reading through this book is that even with our dogs, it is the relationship that heals. It's not technique that has healed Bayley. It is the relationship that she shares with us. It is our consistent responses of love and acceptance toward her that has brought her to a place of trusting in us. It is our consistency in setting boundaries with her that has caused her to feel safe. It is our gentleness and authenticity in responding to her that causes her not to flinch when we touch her. My relationship with my dog is defined by my ability to empathize with her and respond to her feelings and needs in a respectful, accepting way that has allowed her to blossom into her true self. While technique helps in this, healing and change is never defined by technique! Even with my dog, it is the relationship that heals!
This realization has caused me to become less rigid with technique and more fluid in my responses to Bayley. As a result, I find that my affections are stirred more greatly for the beauty, mystery, and fullness of my God. And that is about relationship, too.
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