Wednesday, 1 February 2017

The Small Miracle of A Healing Heart

“Maybe I should give up the idea of the puppy.”

As these words ran through my head, I experienced an overwhelming sadness. The thought made my face crumple and tears course down my cheeks. No. I’d been saving for months. But the reality on the computer screen couldn’t be denied. It was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

The dream of a puppy after the sudden death of our three-year-old beagle had been a slow-growing one. I’d been a dog lover since the day my dad brought home a wiggly dachshund named Fritzie when I was a pre-schooler. Caesar, a miniature poodle, helped me through my teenage years. Then young children, finances, my career and a husband who wasn’t a dog lover brought a twenty-year gap in my dog ownership experiences. I longed for a dog for years, and began praying about it.  A pekinese-pomeranian mix called Cinnamon landed on my doorstep and stole my heart. I vowed I would never be without a dog again. Bailey was a birthday gift to my husband--a stubborn, naughty, affectionate beagle. The day he died suddenly of bladder stones we were shocked and deeply saddened.

Therapy for me was to research breeds and decide what kind of dog we wanted. Over the next months it became obvious what the choice would be—a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Affectionate, easy to train, loving; the books said they wanted to please more than anything. They were everything except cheap. I started to save.

Then life as I knew it fell apart. My marriage dissolved overnight, leaving me devastated and confused. Money was tighter than tight. Buying a dog seemed like pure foolishness as I stared at the bank statement on the computer screen. Slowly, a calm assurance came over me, and I heard the gentle voice of the Father.

“This puppy will heal your heart.”

In the next several weeks, the balance of the money came together. A generous Christmas bonus and the savings I had been squirrelling away added up to the amount I needed. I was even able to buy food enough for the entire time he was a puppy, and save for neutering. I was ready.

The calendar seemed to crawl forward to the day I was to pick him up, and as it did, a series of events conspired to make it memorable.

Six weeks earlier, I had invited a group of friends from work out to dinner. I was delighted that they would come to my house in Timbuktu (not really, but at least an hour’s drive for most of them) and I cooked up a storm. When the breeder let me know when I could pick up Teddy, it was—you guessed it—the same day. A dinner party and a new puppy? I convinced myself that with incredible organization, I could pull this off.

The day before the big event, something odd began to happen in my laundry room. The drain in the floor spouted water and other undecipherable items. Water soaked the floor, the wall and the carpet beyond the wall. Throughout Saturday and Sunday, we tried various methods to unstop the drain, and finally realized it was a backed up sewer.

So—a dinner party, a new puppy and no water. What else could happen?

I knew better than to ask that question.

As my friend and I set out, it was a little foggy. We drove to a small community deep in the country, the fields on either side of the road vanished in swirling white mist. The car we were following disappeared and reappeared as the rode rose and fell in front of us. Siri assured us that there was a road out there, and she knew the way. We were thankful.

A dinner party, a new puppy, no water and dense fog. You still there, Lord?

Just over an hour later, we pulled into the driveway of the country home that was our destination. Our breeder welcomed us to a chorus of squeaky yelps from various directions. From a small pen at the side of the room, she lifted a sleepy brown and white bundle and handed it to me.

Time stopped. Those warm chocolate eyes looked at me, and he nuzzled my neck. Words swirled around me as the breeder talked and my friend snapped pictures. At that moment, my world was silken brown and white fur and a tiny pink tongue giving me kisses.

He was right. My heart began to heal.

The Small Miracle of A Healing Heart


  1. Bless you and your little love bundle of fur.

    1. Thanks, Janice! Would you consider sharing it on your timeline?

  2. Beautiful! I wish I could give your little fur baby a cuddle too. How sweet!

    1. Maybe that will be possible someday, Carey. Could you share it on your timeline?