A dog's life -- or pictures of grace

God does work all things together for good. Our dog's accident illustrated some Christian concepts so clearly. I'm sure in the future when I want to explain grace, mercy and even the wonder of the resurrection all I have to do is remember what happened to Josie ...

"I didn't even get to say goodbye to her," my son sobbed as we drove away from the vet's office.

We had tried to hold back tears the whole time. Something was seriously wrong with our blue heeler, Josie. Earlier that day she wouldn't eat or drink, acted sore all over, and worst of all, was wheezing and panting. Politely, just to please us, she took a baby aspirin wrapped in cheese and baloney. She could barely get it down.

Did she have a broken rib? Had she been kicked by one of the horses or head-butted by one of hte cows? Had she eaten rat poison? Did she have pneumonia?

We had called the local vet but they were closing within minutes and directed us to call an emergency service. They weren't open yet. Desperate, we called the cow vet for some advice. He suggested another vet's office in town.

These people didn't know us from Adam, but said they would see Josie.

I wonder what they thought when we rattled up in the farm truck with a horse's lead rope fastened to Josie's hunter orange collar.

That was our first picture of grace. We were strangers to them, but they offered to look at our dog.

The first vet seemed only a few years older than my kids. She got down on the floor with Josie and started to examine her, then took her away for X-rays, suspecting a broken rib as we did.

So we waited.

The X-rays, though, showed something much worse. Her lungs did not appear at all. Instead we saw  air pockets in odd places. The staff suggested barium X-rays, suspecting that her diaphragm was ruptured and abdominal contents were up in her chest.

My son and I waited longer in the exam room while Josie received more X-rays. I had to break it to him gently. "This is probably not good," I said. "At her age ..."

Josie came to us from one of my husband's hay customers. Eli was a rodeo rider from Texas who somehow drifted up to Indiana. He was moving back to Texas and feared old Yosefina (Josie) could not take the heat. So we didn't know exactly how old she was, only that she was the sweetest little thing and never met a stranger. When she was at the top of her game she was as good or better than most people at working cattle. She looked like a sawed-off German Shepherd with an alert face and big brown eyes, pointy ears, stocky wide-set legs and a bobbed tail

The vet came back with an older man, the clinic owner, who was in running clothes. He also explained the X-rays and said to know for sure what was going on, we'd have to let the barium work its way through Josie. So we could go home and wait for his call.

When he called, the news was catastrophic. She did indeed have a ruptured diaphragm often seen in dogs that get hit by cars or kicked by livestock. A medical emergency. But he guessed Josie was much younger than what we thought, and in great shape. Surgery, however, would cost thousands of dollars. We had to have a family meeting.

We were in agreement: We could not possibly afford surgery. When the vet called back, I was too upset to talk to him so my husband had to tell him all we could do was have the dog put to sleep. I was embarrassed to think the vet heard the kids (and me) sobbing in the background.

So she was gone, just like that, just as unexpectedly as she had showed up when she jumped out of Eli's truck and ran right over to the kids to play with them.

That night I went out to do chores without Josie. The stars were still big and bright but the farm seemed so empty without her. No Josie to chase rabbits or shout down the coyotes howling from the woods. Gone. Just gone.

We cycled through all stages of grief -- disbelief and anger at Josie for doing something foolish enough to get injured, then acceptance that she was an old dog and we could not possibly afford surgery. One of the boys went out and started digging a grave for her.

The next morning I called the vet's office. "We were wondering if we could pick up the body," I said in a tired voice.

The receptionist paused. "The doctor would like to speak to you."

What on earth?

"We mulled this over and decided, as a Christmas present to you, to do Josie's surgery for no charge."

I was sobbing (again.) "She's still alive?"

That was an emotional picture of the resurrection. Josie had not physically died but in our hearts we had given her up for dead. To find out otherwise was a great joy. Also, the vet's offer illustrated grace and mercy. We could not possibly pay for her surgery, but the vet did it anyway as a gift.

Then there was the power of prayer: After Josie's surgery, the vet said she had a 50-50 chance of surviving since her injuries were more extensive than he expected. We all prayed and so did family and friends. Four days later she was home with us, moving slowly, but back with her "pack."

Jesus used parables in his ministry to reach his listeners' hearts and souls. Now my family has a living, furry parable snoring on her Cincinnati Reds blanket on our couch.

The Unspoken Language of Love (Guest Blog by Kristy Cambron)

Today I have the pleasure of introducing you to Kristy Cambron - Christian wife, mother of two young sons and corporate executive. Kristy has recently joined the ACFW and will be one of my roommates at the conference in St. Louis; if you're there, I hope you'll take the opportunity to meet her. Below is a beautifully-written blog by Kristy about my favorite topic, love. It is posted with her permission. Blessings my friends.

The Unspoken Language (originally posted 5/17/2011)
We attended a wedding this week. As you can imagine, the day was indeed full of laughter and hugs. There was a proud groom, a beaming princess of a bride, and a host of supportive friends and family to fill the chapel. The scene was awash in the usual flash of many cameras. Everywhere you looked and walked and smiled, a happy energy seemed to follow; for something amazing was about to happen. A couple is embarking on the journey of a lifetime, and they're pledging to do it together.

Weddings are a powerful reminder of the beauty that love, friendship, and the promise of a hopeful future bring to a young, wide-eyed couple. I adore the showering down of promise that a wedding brings ...

It was at this wedding that I was reminded of the concept of an unspoken language.

Since we began dating, my husband and I have had our own language. This language doesn't pop-up all the time. It's the unspoken words that we choose to say when words are just not enough; I am always and will forever be moved by it. In some of the most meaningful moments of my life, my husband has reached for my hand and in complete quiet, gently tapped my palm three times. This has always meant and will always mean, "I. Love. You."

The bride and groom didn't ask us for marriage advice before they said "I do". I'm grateful for us and for them that they didn't. I might have said that your wedding day should be one of the ultimate highs in life, but watch out - it's not always going to be that way. Marriage isn't easy on the faint of heart or those that get weak in the knees. Marriage takes work. Often, it's a slug-fest. It's a one-way ticket to an ongoing lesson in grace and humility. It's something that you can't ignore, you're required to wholly invest in, and you have to take seriously if you're going to buy the dress and exchange the vows. Sure there's plenty of love and if you chose right, a friendship that can be compared to no other. But it's going to test you both. (How would those words have been received, do you think?)

Ten years out from my own wedding day, I can honestly say that the old comment about hindsight is true; I've learned a lot as I look back now. That's what's so special about the three taps that brushed my palm on the reception dancefloor this weekend. The "I. Love. You." meant more than what the three words say.

The taps literally meant:

• I love you as we walk through joy, but I love you even more when tragedy and loss mark our path. 
• I love you in each step we've taken together, whether right or wrong, hurtful or not. 
• I love you in this moment because of all the moments we've shared, and all those yet to come. 
• I. Love. You. 

My hand felt those taps on our wedding day as we exchanged rings. I will never forget that moment. It reminded me that though the day was perfect, there would be some days ahead that would test us, and that the love we felt then would have to be enough to see it through. Our hands have exchanged those taps at a funeral or two, and I was reminded each time that neither he nor I were standing alone.
I remember several times of quiet when my hand reached out for his, to tap the three words when nothing in particular was going on.

Three taps were exchanged at the birth of our boys, as I walked to join a line of my fellow college graduates, as I left the house one morning to start a new job,
as I cried at the loss of a loved one, as we each said "I'm sorry", as we sat by the hospital bed of our young son ... I.Love.You.

I started thinking this weekend about the words we speak each day of this life we are given. Often, we speak words of kindness, encouragement, and sympathy. While these are all good, they don't go nearly far enough. The simple yet unmistakably powerful three words, I love you, say so much more:

• Love one another as I have loved you. - John 13:34-35 
• For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. - John 3:16 
• I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. - Galatians 2:20 
• Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commands. - Deuteronomy 7:9 
• I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me. - Proverbs 8:17 

I am moved by the small gestures of life; the ones that carry weight, the ones that hold a depth of meaning beyond the obvious. It is the words of a unspoken language that carry the most weight. I am moved in viewing my own imperfection, sin, failure and an eventual restoration through Him, that Jesus Christ lived this unspoken language of love nothing less than perfectly - and his gesture of love was the greatest that anyone has ever given you and I.

Now read these words again, but as if Jesus has spoken them only to you:

I love you when everything is perfect, but I love you even more when it's not and you follow me. I love you when you're smiling, but I love you even more when you cry to me. I love you when you ask forgiveness, but I love you more when I can give it and you know it's not deserved. I love you as we walk through joy, but I love you even more when tragedy and loss mark our path. I love you in each step you've taken together with me, whether your right or wrong, your hurt or not. I love you in this moment because of all the moments we've shared, and all those yet to come. I. Love. You.

I can almost hear His whisper in those same life-moments that my husband and I walk -I.Love.You. Our relationship with Christ is a two-way street; just like marriage and just like any relationship that has merit, it takes the giving and receiving of a willing heart to say and really mean those three little words. Jesus has already done the difficult task for us - he willingly gave. He gave more than you and I will ever know on this side of eternity.

We have the easy part. There's no risk; all we have to do is receive.

Did I mention that the three taps of I.Love.You. between my husband and I are always followed by four taps from the other person? I think the love that Jesus gave is just waiting for those four taps back from us - I. Love. You. Too.

Visit Kristy at her blog: http://2sonsandparismom.blogspot.com/

(posted with her permissions)