We’re just different.

Bobby and his best friend Shane ran up the rickety steps leading to Bobby’s back door.

“I’m glad we’re finished,” Shane said. “I don’t think I ever want to do that again.”

“Don’t forget,” Bobby said and reached for the door, “We each made two dollars on this deal. That ain’t bad for two hours work.”

Bobby pushed the door open and rapid-fire barking exploded at their feet. Shane lifted his leg, holding his foot in the air, the bottom of his tennis shoe tracking the fur ball running back and forth in front of him.

“He won’t bite, Shane.”

“You say that every time.”

“Has he ever bitten you?”

“No, but there’s always a first time. Can’t you just make him shut up?”

Bobby pulled a treat from the dish next to the sink and held it waist-high. “Here Buttons. Eat this instead of Shane.”

Shane rolled his eyes and held onto the doorknob. “Our dog hardly ever barks.”

Bobby laughed and reached down to rub the Pomeranian’s fluffy head. “Good boy. If Shane ever comes in here without me you can eat him, but let’s leave him alone for now.” He burst out laughing again. “Okay, he’s distracted. You can get by without losing your leg—maybe.”

The boys went upstairs to Bobby’s bedroom and flipped through one of his dad’s old Sports Illustrated magazines.

“I’m going to be on the cover one day as the starting pitcher,” said Shane. “I’ll make way more than two dollars and I won’t have to pile up a bunch of old wood to make it.”

“In your dreams.” Bobby placed the magazine on his desk next to the photo of him and his dad at a Braves game. He adjusted the corners until it was just right. “Come on. Let’s go outside.”

The boys bounced off the last stair and rounded the corner. Buttons lit up the room with renewed shrillness. Shane jumped back to the second step. “We were just here. He knew we were here!”

Bobby opened the door and grinned. “I guess he forgot. But he knows now.”

The barking continued well after the door was shut and both boys were back onto the grass.

Shane picked up his work gloves and looked at the door. “Buttons sure is irritating. What good is a dog that acts like that all the time?”

Bobby glanced at Buttons, who threw out a yap every few seconds. “Actually, a lot of good. Ever since Dad died, he’s been our alarm system. Mom and I don’t have to worry about anybody sneaking up to the house anymore.

“We don’t even have to listen for the mailman. Buttons lets us know as soon as it’s delivered. Mom says that’s saved us a couple of times.”

Shane pulled on the back of his gloves and shuffled his feet.

“And he sat with me last year when I was sick. Even when I missed feeding him, he never complained. Just laid on my leg, making me feel better.” Bobby turned his head away and wiped his face.

“But that barking.”

“Yeah, that barking.”

That’s just a story prompted by Pepe, one of my daughter’s pets from years ago. He’s all Pomeranian. Pomeranian traits can endear you to them or cause you to want to steer clear. From what I understand, if you’re family, a Pomeranian is fiercely loyal. Despite their small size, they take on the world like they own it.

Seeing Pepe’s photo made me think of how we sometimes react to people.

How do we deal with “different”?

Are we offended, afraid, or suspicious?

Do we ignore, run away, or watch closely?

Imagine being one of the disciples.  One was a tax collector. There were several fishermen. One was called a zealot. One, very doubtful. Two were referred to by the nickname “Sons of Thunder”.

Imagine their training sessions. Not only did they find themselves in a situation where they were often confused and unsure of exactly what was happening, they had to come together as united followers of Christ. After more than three years, they were sent to work—together.

“He summoned the twelve and began to send them out in pairs, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits;” (Mark 6:7, NASB)

Then, in verses 12 and 13 we see, “They went out and preached that men should repent. And they were casting out many demons and were anointing with oil many sick people and healing them.”

The disciples overlooked their differences and worked together for the good of the kingdom. Maybe we can do that, too.

Do you have ways of working with people different than you? Will you share them? We’d love to hear.