If you're a follower of my blog, you know that in early August, I adopted a 3-year-old dachshund named J.R. It's now November, and he is definitely a member of the family. And, he, quite simply, adores me. Almost as much as he adores his older Labrador sister, Julie.
As I've previously mentioned, J.R. sort of stole my heart away with his sad eyes and lonely soul. Little did I know when I opened my heart to that long little wiener dog, that he would be the means that God used to change my life in a major way.
When J.R. came to me, he had a severe problem with his back, and the vet said that part of his recovery would need to be walking every day and losing some of the extra weight that he was carrying. Once his back began to heal, J.R. and I began a daily routine of walking each evening when I got home from work. After about two months of walking, I was having severe pain in my left leg which eventually became so severe that I finally gave in and went to see my doctor. After several rounds of tests, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To say that my life has drastically changed would be a grand understatement ... medication, new diet, lots of exercise and checking my blood sugar three times each day.
The day that I met with my doctor and she told me the diagnosis, she ended our conversation with these words: "I know that you said that you rescued J.R. and saved him from death. I want you to know that he actually saved your life. You are lucky that you didn't go to sleep one night, slip into a coma and not wake up the next morning. That little dog saved you, Terrie, he saved your life."
God works in such mysterious ways in our lives, and He chose to use a fat little dog to work in mine. I believe that J.R. was meant to be with me, and I believed that from the moment he came into my home. As is so often the case, I had no idea just how big God's plan was ... no idea at all.
So, remember, God can take all things, both big and small, and work them for good in the lives of those who love Him. J.R. has taught me many things over the last four months, not the least of which is a new appreciation for the life God has given me.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Back in Time
A couple of Sundays ago, while visiting my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee, I attended the church I grew up in for the first time in over 30 years. As I pulled into the parking lot, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, and as I waited for an old friend to arrive, my mind drifted back to my childhood and teen years. So much of my life at that time revolved around this little Southern Baptist church and the people and personalities that came and went through the years.
Walking into the church with my friend was like stepping back in time ... not much had changed at the church in 30 years. The sanctuary looked basically the same, and my friend took me through the back halls and classrooms where we had sat in Sunday School for so many years. I met the pastor who told me that people often spoke of my dad and the legacy he had left at the church.
I was excited to see people I had not seen for many years, but as the choir filed in, I never expected the emotion that engulfed me. Some of the men that my dad always sat with in the choir still occupied their same spots, and I could just picture Daddy sitting there and I could hear his sweet tenor voice. I could see Mom sitting in her "spot" ... she always sat on the right side of the sanctuary, about halfway up the aisle.
Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my face ... the memories that washed over me were almost too much to bear. After the service, there were more tears, both my own and those from others, as people from my past embraced me and welcomed me and invited me to come back again. Hearing stories about my parents and seeing those friends of Mom and Dad who are now elderly and feeble was humbling and bittersweet.
I left the church that morning touched to the very depth of my soul and so very thankful for the legacy of faith that my parents passed on to me. Their commitment to God and to His church and His people was real and true and lasting. They were amazing people, my mom and dad, and their love continues to bless me even years after their passing.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me in church, for teaching me about God and His word, for trusting that I would eventually find my way to Him, and for the countless ways you loved me in spite of myself. And thank you, Alpine Baptist Church, for allowing me to be a part of you once again on a rainy Sunday in November.
Walking into the church with my friend was like stepping back in time ... not much had changed at the church in 30 years. The sanctuary looked basically the same, and my friend took me through the back halls and classrooms where we had sat in Sunday School for so many years. I met the pastor who told me that people often spoke of my dad and the legacy he had left at the church.
I was excited to see people I had not seen for many years, but as the choir filed in, I never expected the emotion that engulfed me. Some of the men that my dad always sat with in the choir still occupied their same spots, and I could just picture Daddy sitting there and I could hear his sweet tenor voice. I could see Mom sitting in her "spot" ... she always sat on the right side of the sanctuary, about halfway up the aisle.
Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my face ... the memories that washed over me were almost too much to bear. After the service, there were more tears, both my own and those from others, as people from my past embraced me and welcomed me and invited me to come back again. Hearing stories about my parents and seeing those friends of Mom and Dad who are now elderly and feeble was humbling and bittersweet.
I left the church that morning touched to the very depth of my soul and so very thankful for the legacy of faith that my parents passed on to me. Their commitment to God and to His church and His people was real and true and lasting. They were amazing people, my mom and dad, and their love continues to bless me even years after their passing.
So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me in church, for teaching me about God and His word, for trusting that I would eventually find my way to Him, and for the countless ways you loved me in spite of myself. And thank you, Alpine Baptist Church, for allowing me to be a part of you once again on a rainy Sunday in November.
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