Tuesday, December 9, 2014


The eyes of the LORD are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love. Psalm 34:18 NIV

Anybody see the moon Sunday night?

Imagine a clock face, hands radiating from the tiny dot in the center. That was the size of the halo around the full moon, straight overhead, not one star within its circle. It was like a porthole in the heavens, opened to allow my heavenly Father to watch over me.

I stared back as long as my neck held out, my heart filled with gratitude.

My dogs circled around me, searching the night for elusive prey. Then, completing our bedtime walk, we rounded the house and started down the driveway. A darker shape moved in the darkness ahead of me.

Too far.

I called to her, strained to see. The electric gate stood halfway open. My little black runner was out. I ran to get leads and high value treats, then ran back down the drive. What was that white shape there, just across the road? “Ruthie?”

The shape moved.

“Ruthie! I got bacon.”

The shape ran to me. One on lead. One who could see/smell/hear in the darkness, lead me to the invisible black dog.

A shadow moved from the roadside bushes. “Misty! I got bacon.”

The shadow moved down the road. Yeah, bacon’s great—but not worth losing this moment of freedom. Ruthie strained at her lead; I followed. Misty circled my neighbor’s house, sniffing, sniffing.

“Misty! Bacon!”

No dice.

Near enough to toss a yummy in front of her. She snapped it up and kept going. Another piece. A third. Snap. Snap.

Finally I sat on the concrete drive and waited, breaking off bits of bacon to feed to Ruthie. That was the last straw—and Misty was there, accepting her treat, safely on lead.

How could I be so calm (relatively) as my desperate prayers fountained upward? Why was I not furious with my husband for not making sure the gate had really closed? With myself for failing to check? These are my friends, my responsibility, my canine anchor babies holding me to this halfway-house world until my assignment here is finished.

Could it be the peace of that porthole moment still bathing me?

Avi, thank You for the difficult times You’ve brought me through, the lessons in trust, the reminders of how close You always are to me. When I am afraid, help me to remember that You are the God of forever, faithful without fail. In Your holy name, Amen

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