Just Right

Sometimes I look at my son Matt and wonder at how smart he is. He's working on his Ph.D. in marriage and family therapy and will complete it before he is 27 years old. When I comment to him that he is incredibly smart, he quite humbly gives me the same response ... "Not really, Mom, I'm just driven and I study really hard." Of course, he is also the son who when I asked if I would have to call him Dr. Mattie when he completes his degree said, "Not every day, Mom." Smart, humble and a comedian ... what a combination. I've mentioned previously that Matt has a thing about nicknames ... for as long as I can remember, he's graced everyone and many things in his life with nicknames. Some make sense and I can see the connection, like when he called our huge dog Ali "Beast" for a long while; others ... I have no clue where they come from, like when he called my mom "Galoop" for several years.

It wasn't long after J.R. the wiener dog entered my world that Matt began to call him Junior rather than J.R. ... and yes, I totally understood how that particular moniker presented itself in Matt's mind. Over the 15 months that J.R. was a member of my family, I found myself, too, at times calling him Junior, along with several other nicknames ... Jar Jar Binks, Binkers, Fat Buddy, Little Man and Prancer. And amazingly, he seemed to always know, no matter by what name I called him, that I was talking to him. 

From almost the first night that J.R. was at my house, I wondered what his initials stood for ... why he was given that seemingly odd name ... just initials, no "real" name. However, it wasn't long until I decided that I definitely knew what his name meant ... what those two little letters signified. Early on in our human canine friendship, I began to tell J.R. that he was Just Right for me. Just right in so many ways ... just the right size dog, just the right color, just right in his behavior, just right to walk with me, just right to snuggle in under my chin, just right to love ... just right to be the vessel that God chose to use to cause me to discover my diabetes. I'm more convinced than ever that J.R. stood for Just Right ... sent to me at just the right time, for just the right purpose.

I finally forced myself over the weekend to go for a walk on the trail where J.R. and I logged so many miles over the last 15 months. And I'm not going to lie to you ... that first walk without him on our beloved trail was the hardest walk I've ever made, and I sobbed the entire time. Don't worry, I've been keeping my promise to J.R. to walk, but I've been walking in a different place. Each step I took on the trail brought a memory flooding back to me, and each person along the way who asked how he was forced me to open the wound of his passing again and again.

As I've written about numerous times in this blog, God has taught and is continuing to teach me many lessons as I walk along the trail, and He especially taught me some sweet and life-changing lessons as I made my daily outdoor journey with J.R. I think, however, that perhaps the deepest and most poignant lesson thus far He gave to me today ... on a cold but sunny afternoon, on a deserted and lonely trail. Walking along holding my medical necklace with J.R.'s tag attached in my hand, I once again felt the emotion of losing my faithful companion wash over me in a big way. And that's when it happened ... that's when God began to whisper to me ... in the chirping of the birds, in the swaying of the trees in the wind, in the crunch of the leaves under my feet.

"I am here, Terrie, I am here. I am the great Healer. I feel your pain and hurt. I'm holding you in the palm of My mighty hand. I am just right for you, Terrie. My plan and my purpose for you is just right, Terrie. My love for you is just right, Terrie. My grace and mercy will cover you just right, Terrie. My forgiveness extends to you in just the right measure, Terrie. I am just right, Terrie ... I am just right."