J.R. the Lifesaver

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.

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.

Sweet Sisters

Over the last couple of months, I have had the great honor to speak for several different groups of ladies at various events. While I always pray that God will provide me with the words He would have me share that will meet the needs of the women present, I quite often come away from these gatherings feeling as though I am the one who receives the greatest blessing.

The way God works in the hearts and lives of those who love and serve Him never ceases to amaze me. Women often feel a strong connection with the guest speaker at a retreat or conference, and as such, I have heard a multitude of stories from the women God has called me to minister to ... stories of salvation, of joy, of pain, of sorrow. So many lives that have been touched by the Master's hand; so many lives that are in desperate need of His healing power.

All of those women, each and every one of them, have left a mark on me ... whether it be sharing laughter or tears ... they have all had an impact on me. Gals who are now a part of me, a part of my heart, a part of my soul ... Kathy, Vicki, Charlene, Elaine, Angi, Karen, Doris, Kari, Susan, Stephanie, Pat, Cindy, Becky ... and so many more true blessings in my life.

The older I become, the more I find myself contemplating what heaven will be like one day. I like to believe that will recognize on some level those who meant so much to us during our time on earth. If that turns out to be the case, I can't wait for the reunion that will happen one day with all my sweet sisters in the Lord!

Dancing in the Moonlight

As I mentioned in my previous post, I recently adopted a foster dog named J.R. And as previously mentioned, J.R. is a bit on the plump side, so we've been walking every evening. Many nights, we pass the same folks out for their evening stroll as well, and there are the cursory nods and hellos. A few nights ago, however, I saw some folks I had never seen before.

As J.R. and I crossed over the second bridge on our path, we came upon a young father, his daughter and their tiny puppy. I nodded as I passed them, hurrying along on my designated path. Something caused J.R. to hesitate, and as I turned to urge him forward, I heard the little girl say, "Daddy, let's dance!" I watched as this young father stopped in his tracks, scooped his little princess into his arms and began to twirl with her right there on the walking path. And then the little girl said, "Daddy, Daddy, pick up Lucy, too. She wants to dance with us!" I realized that tears were forming in my eyes as I watched this strong young father reach down and tenderly lift the little puppy into his arms along with his daughter. He began to sing and twirl and dance while the little girl laughed and squealed and the little puppy licked and wagged her tail.

I'm not sure how long I stood there watching the scene, but when I finally turned to continue walking, my heart was filled with joy at the unashamed display of love I had just witnessed. I couldn't help but think of how much God our heavenly Father loves us and wants to scoop us up into His arms for a lifetime of dancing.

Since all of my children are now out on their own, my canine companions are in some ways like children to me. So it seemed only fitting as J.R. and I got close to home near the end of our walk, I leaned over and ... yep, you guessed it ... I scooped that fat little dog into my arms and I danced.

Rescue Me

A few months ago, my son and daughter-in-law became foster parents ... not for children, mind you, but for dachshunds. Yes, that's right, foster parents for doggies. They have had several furry friends pass through their lives, each one of them gaining a special place in their hearts and their home. Andy, their little dog, loves having new friends come, and he has gotten so attached to a couple of the fosters that he is a sad puppy when they move on to their "furever" homes.

Three weeks ago, Matt and Becca were going out of town for a weekend to celebrate Matt's birthday, and they asked if I would keep Andy while they were away. Andy always stays with me when they travel ... he loves his "Grandma Terrie," and he loves playing with my lab, Julie. This particular weekend, Matt and Becca had just gotten another foster dog named J.R. He had lived a hard three years, being born into a puppy mill and suffering a great deal of abuse. He was afraid of everything and everyone, which was understandable given his background.

When Matt asked if they could bring J.R. to me as well, I was less than excited about keeping a strange dog, especially one who had some significant trust issues. As I always do, I caved in and agreed to keep both of the hounds for the weekend.

Within a few short hours, J.R. decided that I was the greatest person on earth and deserved an exorbitant amount of love and affection from him, needed to have my every step mirrored by him, and most certainly would cherish having a fat little dog sleep cuddled next to me at night. In short, this dog worshipped and adored me.

By Saturday morning, his devotion to me was apparent as he gazed at me with his sad eyes that alluded to a much older spirit than his years would dictate. There was no playful puppy in this boy; he was sad ... sadder than any dog I've ever seen. I told myself over and over that the last thing I needed was another dog to care for; after all, I travel a great deal speaking to women's groups. And I have a big dog already. And dogs cost a lot. And he's fat and will need special food and to be walked every day. No playing Frisbee in the backyard to get his exercise like Julie does. Nope, I certainly don't need a dog, not to mention a high-maintenance one at that.

By the time Sunday arrived, I found myself calling Matt and Becca to ask what I needed to do to keep J.R. I simply couldn't bear the thought of him going anywhere where he might be abused again. And did I mention that he adores me? So when Matt and Becca came to pick up Andy, J.R. stayed with me and Julie. He found his "furever" home and completely stole my heart.

When I mentioned to Matt that I didn't understand why this dog had touched my heart the way he had, Matt wisely reminded me that I know what abuse feels like and thus felt J.R.'s pain and suffering. Smart kid, that son of mine. So now I'm walking two miles a day with Julie and J.R. Julie has the time of her life on the walking path, dragging me along like a fish on a line. J.R. manages to keep up with her and loves our walks each day. And me? Well, I've lost several pounds in the last three weeks, which is a bonus for me.

I am thankful that God in His infinite wisdom created animals for us as humans to love and care for. You see, I thought I was rescuing J.R., but it turns out that he's rescuing me right back.

Long Time, No Blog

I've discovered as I've aged that there are seasons in life ... at times, life blossoms like flowers in spring, grows like grass after summer showers, sheds unwanted items like leaves in the fall, or hibernates like bears on a cold winter's night.

Recently, I've experienced a new season in life by entering into the empty nest phase of parenting. My youngest child, my baby girl, moved into her own apartment, leaving my home to me and the dogs. It's been an adjustment after being a single parent for 14 years; the house is quiet, save the barking of the hounds. No music coming from the rooms upstairs, no televisions playing through the night, no one entering my room late at night to tell me about their day.

To say that I haven't had some sad days since my sons and daughter moved would be far from the truth. In fact, as they each made their way into the world to begin their adult lives, I've cried buckets as each one left the nest. But, it is the way God intended for things to be ... as parents, we raise our children to learn, to live, and to leave.

While I miss them, and the house feels lonely at times, I am learning to appreciate the good side to having the house to myself. I drink straight from the orange juice container without having to dirty a glass. I go for a walk every evening and meditate on the goodness of my Lord and the blessings He has graciously poured out upon me. I rarely turn on the television and have read several books instead.

I'm learning and I'm living ... by myself. And if I need someone to talk to other than the dogs, I've got a cell phone with friends and family as close as a call.

Everlasting Love

Yesterday, I spent most of the afternoon shooting photos for a 50th wedding anniversary party. I met the family a couple of hours before the party began so that I could take family photos for them. It was a beautiful Kansas day, and this was one photo shoot that was much more fun than work for me.

I've know Pat and Virdus for many years, and I've always been impressed by them both as a couple and as parents to their four sons. Their family has grown to include daughter-in-laws and grandchildren, and it is easy to see that their love has grown to encompass their enlarging family. I was struck yesterday by the way they all related to one another with respect, humor and love. I also couldn't help but notice that Pat and Virdus are quite obviously still deeply in love with one another. Several times during the afternoon, I saw them holding hands and exchanging smiles, and when I requested a "smooching" shot for the camera, they laughed and readily agreed!

As I drove home after the party, I found myself smiling and filled with joy at having been invited to be part of this wonderful couple's very special day. Fifty years of marriage is something to be proud of in a world where the divorce rate has topped fifty percent. To see a couple so committed to one another and to their family is truly a blessing not only to me, but to all who know them.

So, congratulations, Pat and Virdus, and thank you both for all the ways you touched my heart yesterday. Happy 50th, and here's to many more years together for the two of you!

Surprise Inspiration

Sometimes inspiration comes when I least expect it or when I'm not looking for it. It announces its presence in an unassuming way, giving me pause to consider what is and is not important in my life. It can come in the form of a hug from a little girl named Ellie on a Sunday morning at church whose eyes light up when she sees me and runs into my arms. It can come in the form of the wagging tail of my faithful dog as she greets me when I return home after a long, hard day at work. It can come in the form of reading a page-turner book that gives me escape from my daily routine and transports me to another time and place. Or it can come, as it did in the last few weeks, in the form of a 48-year-old woman who became an overnight YouTube sensation.

The first time I viewed Susan Boyle singing "I Dreamed a Dream" on the talent show Britain's Got Talent, I cried like a baby. In fact, I've watched that video over and over, and each time, tears well up in my eyes as her beautiful voice touches my soul. But it's more than Susan's voice that brings inspiration to me, so much more. It is the story of her life ... deemed "learning disabled" as a child and subsequently teased as she grew up; taking care of her elderly, ailing mother for many years while sacrificing her own dreams and desires; never marrying, now living alone with her cat, Pebbles. Her appearance, her humble life, her unassuming manner all contribute to build my admiration for the courage and inner strength that she obviously possesses.

It was Susan's attempt to fulfill a promise she made to her dying mother to "make something of herself" that spurred her to audition for the talent show, and the rest, as they say, is history. The judges, the people in the audience, and those of us who watched the video thought that Susan was a joke and that her performance would be a train wreck. And then ... she smiled, opened her mouth, and sang.

Susan came in second in the competition, but by all accounts, her life will never be the same. She will have a recording contract, and she will sell millions of CDs. She will get a book deal, and someone will make a movie of her life. The meager success she hoped for when she auditioned will pale in comparison to what is coming her way. I hope that Susan realizes that her voice is wonderful, beautiful, and inspirational. But what I truly hope that Susan knows and embraces is that it is her ... her life, her inner spirit, her courage ... that has brought inspiration to millions of people around the world.

So, Susan, from this 49-year-old single gal who needed an extra kick to follow her own dreams ... thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing you with me!

Reconnecting

My daughter recently told me that the "old" people like me have taken over Facebook from the younger generation. I don't know how I feel about called old at a youthful 49 years old, but I will admit and embrace the fact that I do enjoy Facebook immensely.

It brings a smile to my face each time I get a friend request, but I feel an extra joy when that request is from someone whom I haven't seen or talked to for many years. Reconnecting and catching up with friends from my high school and college years is just plain old fun. Well, most of the time. There is a sadness in hearing about marriages that have dissolved or spouses lost through death or friends who have passed on or are sick or have lost their jobs. But for the most part, connecting with old friends brings an undeniable joy to my heart.

I've often wondered if we will recognize one another in heaven, and I don't have an answer to that age-old question. I would like to believe that we will, and the joy of reunions here on earth will pale in comparison, I'm sure. I can only imagine the emotion I will feel when I see my mom and dad again or my brother Jerry or my grandparents.

So here's to Facebook and to reconnecting and reminiscing and remembering. And here's to what will come one day ... I can only imagine indeed.

Faithful Friends

I've been blessed through the years with a multitude of friends. Some of those have been friends for many years, and some have been more recently added to my quiver of blessings. Some have been friends during times of grief; some during times of great happiness or success; and some have gone the distance through every event of my life.

For this post, I want to focus on one particular friend who is very special to me. Her name is Debbie, and we've know each other for almost 20 years. I met Debbie when we moved to Kansas City while attending a women's Bible study at the church I currently attend. We felt an instant kinship, since we are both Midwest transplants who are very much still Southern girls at heart. Our sons are the same age, so we also bonded on a "mom" level, too.

We've been through a lot together, Debbie and I, and as I sat next to her in church this morning, I realized how blessed I am to count her among my closet friends. She has a heart of gold and derives tremendous joy through giving to others. There are too many times when Debbie has selflessly given to me to even begin to list them all. One in particular, however, I will never forget. When I had to pack my mother's possessions after she passed, Debbie was the friend who met me at Mom's and helped me through that task. When I would get choked up, it was Debbie who would recall something humorous about Mom and make me smile. I will never forget that day, and I will never forget Debbie's selfless love as she helped me make it through.

So many times, we take our friends for granted, and we forget that they are truly gifts from God. So, thank you, Debbie, for all that you mean to me and the way you make me smile. And, thank you, God, for blessing me with one of the best friends a Southern gal could ever ask for!