The pew belongs to the dog now. She lays on it waiting for her master to come out and scratch her ears while he drinks his morning coffee. Or maybe at night they’ll sit together and watch the birds settle on the meadow and the sun set over the cornfields. Quietly, she’ll keep him company as he thinks about the weather, crop prices, beef prices, and machinery.
The pew didn’t always belong to the dog. Long ago it belong to an old country church where people would gather to worship and seek solace from life’s travails. It is said that the men who built the pew never returned from the Civil War. Like the pews, they did their duty. That pew and others like it served the church faithfully for many years. They were built to last, but nothing lasts forever, and eventually the pews were replaced by some with padded seats.
So now the pew belongs to the dog, but it is still a good place to find solace from the worries of life. If you sit and watch the birds on the meadow and scratch the dog’s ears the problems of life seem far away. The faithful pew and faithful dog will join you in silent contemplation as nature’s cathedral plays around you.