After my accident and injury a couple of months ago, many people told me, “You need to rehome your dog. He’s too big. It’s dangerous for you to keep him. Look what happened. How do you know that won’t happen again, or worse?”

Laying in my hospital bed, fresh from emergency hip replacement surgery, I refused. “We will do our best to keep him. He’s part of our family.”

“But he’s the one who made you fall!”

In a way, yes. In other ways, no. Yes, he did dart down the stairs toward the front door, which did cause me to panic and turn. But, did I have to panic? Did I have to turn? Did I even have to try to bring him upstairs with me? Each of the above I did for good reason, but did I have to?

These are the kinds of questions we need to ask ourselves when we start to blame someone for doing something that causes us pain. Even though they’re the direct cause, how much could we prevent?

Also, even if we couldn’t have prevented it, we can still choose not to hold them responsible to carry the blame, let alone the shame. Yes, I and others could blame Trooper, since his action precipitated my fall and broken hip. But we don’t have to hold it against him.

One thing that helps us to forgive is understanding. In this case, it means remembering that Trooper, after all, is a dog. So, instead of condemning him, I am “mindful of his frame”, in the same way the Lord understands us.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust.” (Ps. 103:13-14a)

Unconditional love breeds that kind of understanding. Unconditional love says, “You don’t have to perform a certain way or meet certain standards and expectations for me to love you. I’ll love and keep loving you no matter what you do or don’t do, and extend grace accordingly.”

We’ve accommodated each other, Trooper and I. He approaches me gently, instead of catapulting toward me, about to bowl me over. In turn, I spend time with him out in our yard, when the weather’s nice enough, and play with him the best I can.

He sacrificed some freedom and play-time without really knowing why. I’ve sacrificed some safety/lack of risk to have him near and here. And I do know why.

Sure, unconditional love involves risks, yet overcomes the fear of them. “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear…” (1 Jn. 4:18). How do we get that kind of love?

“We love because He (God) first loved us.” (1 Jn. 4:19). His love not only enables us to love unconditionally, it also removes the fear of being hurt by that, as we trust Him, in His love, to take care of us, no matter how whoever we love responds.

When unconditional love becomes mutual, everyone wins. This happened with Trooper and I. He got to not only stay with us, but even those who said we should rehome him have admitted what a blessing he is to our home and whoever he meets and greets (always enthusiastically). For me, I get to enjoy him inside and outside our home in so many ways, and he’s been a major comfort-companion during my recovery, especially in those early, difficult, days.

Mutual unconditional love isn’t choice without emotion, though. We want to do things together! We delight in each other—playing, showing affection, walking, etc. It also brings others into the love-circle. There’s no way I can walk our big, strong, dog by myself. My husband and I, who also love each other, enjoy walking Trooper every day possible, and bringing him on hikes. Three-way unconditional love multiplies the blessing exponentially—in the giving, receiving, observing, and joy of it all!

To me, he’s never “the dog that made me fall”, and to him, I’m never “the lady that took the fun out of life for a while”. We continue to be each other’s special buddies, even more now that we’ve gone through this trial together— bonded deeper in unconditional love (1 Cor. 13:4-8a).