I need God to love Murphy not because I love her but because He loves her as His own creation too. I need His love for her to be separate and independent from mine. I know He does this for people, but I needed him to do it for her - a little, old, much loved dog. Does He? Does He love her like I do? I know He does. I know it because of how He paints the pictures of my life. Is it a desperation and a reasoning through my loss of her that I've made this stuff up? I don't think so. My reasoning and thought processes are folly to Him the majority of the time. It brings a bit of a smile to His face. Especially when I get it right. Especially when He gives me a peace that I've looked at Him as my God and He looked at me as His very own and we know each other. Yes He knows me - every corner and crevice of me. The good and the bad. And because of His love and grace, because that is the core of His being, He loves me regardlessly. He loves me unconditionally without boundary, limits or breaking points. He loves me recklessly. He loves me as I am and not as I should be. He loves me whether I'm wallowing in the filth of my sin or on my knees in quiet worship of Him. He loves me because He is the I Am. He is driven unmercifully to reach me in my moments of fear and anxiety. He reigns over these areas of my life now. I've asked Him to. I've told Him before hand that I can't handle it. Take over and do it for me. I've lifted my hands to heaven asked Him to pick me up. I'm afraid. Hold me tight. He does... I used to have a sorta pray pyramid of needs in my mind. At the top was health. The next level was money. And after that, well...I never got to pray beyond the first two levels really. But then I figured out several years ago that sickness and death will come. What I needed from God was for Him to take care of me emotionally. That's it. I don't have a prayer pyramid now. I've looked around - the mortality rate is 100%. This trying to hold back death and the fear that it will come was dominating my life. My mother had pancreatic cancer at the time. When a doctor can diagnose this type of cancer it's already in stage 4. How do you deal with that? I was shattered in the doctor's office into a millions pieces like a fine china plate that had hit a stone floor. Could God find the tiniest of slivers of me and put me back together? Could He? I figured out that I did have a choice to make. I could hold on to my crippling fear and anxiety or I could ask Him to come in and destroy it. I didn't even have the strength at the time to ask. He gave that to me too. I just knew what I needed from Him. "Come in...come in. Blanket me with your love. Cover me with your peace. Comfort me in my fear. I don't want fear and anxiety to shadow me my whole life. Reign over me Lord. Please come." He did. Fear and anxiety still come but they don't consume me until that is what I am. A life riveted and controlled by trying to hold back death and waiting for it to come. He began teaching me His ways through my mothers sickness and death. He is perfecting it more through Murphy. How does He do this? I don't know. I just know I've let Him do it in me. He did it. Not me. I actually had nothing to do with it. I certainly can't reason myself into thinking everything is alright when it most certainly is not. How can pancreatic cancer by ok in my life? How can congestive heart failure in my grandmother and my old dog that I love (ridiculously) be ok? It simply can't. It's the mystery of His love that keeps me from destroying myself. It's the gift of His grace that keeps me intact. The bottom line is, during these hard times in my life I run desperately to Him to sit with Him. I don't say anything. He doesn't say anything. I sit with Him and He sits with me. After doing this for hour upon hour and sometimes days at a time, it's His presence in my life that let's me know I'm going to be ok. That Mom is ok. That Murphy is ok. He does love her independently of my love. She is His creation. He looked at her and said, "This is good." And it was! And I delighted in her and what He had made! Grant called her his, "Long Brown Joy." Eric would say that she was a doodle that God made and then blew life into. She was a fleck of His joy and innocence that God placed in my life. And now I will tell you about her last day and how God paints beautiful pictures on the most terrible of days.Murphy once was not mine. She belonged to my friend, Monica, who became ill and could no longer care for her. Monica asked me to keep her. I already had babysat Murphy for years when Monica traveled out of town for her work. I already loved Murphy. Of course I said yes. At that time Murphy had already lived with me for a year. It had taken Monica that long to get to the point where she could go home. She had spent a year in hospitals and rehabs. I was in China when the rehab in Denver released Monica and sent her home to start her new life. My Mom and Dad kept Murphy while I traveled. We live in the same house. Murph was always home even when I had to be gone myself. After Monica came home we fell into a routine where Murphy and I would go to Monica's house every Thursday for an afternoon visit. Murphy would sleep in Monica's lap and the two of us would chat the afternoon away. Well, I will chat and Monica will listen to me endlessly because I'm hyper like that. Last Thursday was just the same. It was a normal morning for us. Dr. Allen, Murphy's vet, diagnosed Murphy with congestive heart failure last October. We had kept it under control for months. I thought she was a little off that morning but we all have those days. She showed no signs of trouble. No coughing or panting or hard breathing. She barked for her breakfast and I prepared it as quickly as I could - in obedience - of course. I threw her pebbles across the floor and she chased them like any other day. After these daily events, she sat in my lap and cleaned her paws and I checked my e-mails. This has gone on for years now. Our little morning routine. After lunch, I took Murphy over to see Monica. It was Thursday. When we got there, Murphy roamed the house for a bit and I finally picked her up and she took a nap in Monica's lap. She's done this many times. She gets sleepy after she eats lunch too. We talked the afternoon away. I told Monica about Nomads, Uganda and all kinds of stuff. Monica just listens to me ramble away. Murphy snoozed happily in Monica's lap. Thank you, Monica, for your friendship. Afterwards, Murphy and I got in the car and headed home. On the way home, as she was sitting in my lap and sniffing out the window, a seizure gripped her body. Her legs began to tremble and her head began to shake. I held on to her tightly as I drove down JFK. I was two miles from home. If it had been up to me, I would have panicked and cried. I would have screamed out in fear. But something happened in the car with the two of us. A calmness blanketed me. It covered me from head to toe. It stilled my heart. I was thinking clearly in those horrible minutes. I took a back street home and stopped the car at the end of our driveway. Grant came out of the house (he never does this) and stood on the porch. I told him to go get his daddy and call Dr. Allen and tell him I'm on my way. He ran and did both. Eric drove Murphy and I to Dr. Allen's office. I talked to her the whole way, "It's ok. I'm right here. You're ok. I love you. Shhhhh. Shhhhh." I lovingly ran my hands lightly over her body as she laid in her nest in my lap. Dr. Allen sent me to his surgery room and I placed her there upon a table. He immediately sedated her. The seizure stopped. Relief swept over me. She was peaceful now. As he worked on her I noticed another lady in the room with me. Her dog was lying motionless on the table next to mine. I knew she had just lost her dog. I walked outside of Dr. Allen's office to pray. Pray for Murphy. Pray for me. Pray for Dr. Allen. "Help us make the right decisions for her, Lord. Please help." The lady came out. I looked at her and said, "I'm sorry about your dog." She began to cry. "Let's sit down on the curb together," I said. And she came. She told me how she was alone. Her husband was out of town. She had no children. Her six year old dog, Sissy, had just had multiple seizures and her heart had just stopped. I listened. That very thing was playing out in the surgery room at that moment with Murphy. I told her what was happening with Murphy. She completely understood and we instantly had a bond. "God is punishing me," she said through her tears. "I haven't been to church in over a year. They're cliquish and I don't have money to keep up with them. God took her because I just can't take it." I looked at her astounded. "Why in the world would you think that?" I asked. "God is not a God who punishes us like that. He is first and foremost the God of Love and Grace." She listened. We talked on and I told her about God's Love for us and then about Grace and it's true definition - God's definition - not man's. I knew in those terrible moments with Murphy that God had given me a divine appointment. I knew it. God was there on the curb with me. He was hovering over Murphy. The lady and I shared our grief together. Mine was not complete at the time. Murphy's heart would give out some six hours later. It was late that evening when Dr. Allen called me to tell me she didn't make it. I wept uncontrollably. I was a mess in a heap on the floor. The boys didn't know what to do with me. I said, "Leave me alone. I'll be ok. It's ok to cry. I'm ok. Let me cry." They were satisfied then after I told them I was ok - even when I was crying. Wave after wave came. Memories were pouring in. The stress of the evening had left me weary. But as I cried, I saw the picture that God had painted. It's colors were so bright and vibrant. It was so alive! Murphy and I had our usual sweet morning. And then we spent the afternoon over at Monica's together. Eric had always reassured me that he would be home on Murphy's last day. He was. He was in the country and he was actually at home. Dr. Allen, he was in his office. It wasn't his day off. And lastly, God used me to reach someone who needed to hear again of His Love in her moment of grief. And how he strengthened her understanding of Him in her despair. On such a terrible day, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Everyone was in place that day, including the lady who shared the curb with me. These pictures that I see in the darkest moments of my life are gifts from God. I cherish them. I am thankful that I can see His work and know that I'm not blown in the wind by circumstances in my life. That He reaches out to others even in these dark moments. That He is desperate to show His love for them and comfort them as well. If God thought my love for Murphy was foolish He wouldn't have acted as He did that day. But He doesn't. He grabbed my heart and made it ok - just like He did when Momma died. He spoke truth to someone in need in her dark moment. Oh God is so very good. Thank you God for Murphy Sue. Thank you for letting me delight in her. Thank you for the joy she brought me. Thank you that you let me have her until she was almost 15. She was a blessing to me. Thank you Monica for the gift.
Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.
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