Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued (14 page)

I stopped skiing and looked at my friend. I wanted her to see my eyes, to see that they were full of tears, tears of joy for the hope she had found. For the hope she chose to receive, for the peaceful freedom that comes in knowing Christ. Laurie had struggled for so long. For years she had battled her internal storms; now my friend had chosen to finally step out of the tempest. She was done fighting. It was time to surrender, to embrace the peace that had always been available to her.

I wiped my eyes. “Wow, Lou, your whole life is about to change. I don’t mean your circumstances. I don’t mean that everything is suddenly going to be all hearts and roses. I mean that you are about to change, your heart, your attitude. Truly finding the peace of Christ is like finding the eye of the storm. The hurricane is still there, but because of what the Lord has done for us, we can abide in his peace through any storm.”

Laurie smiled. I held my palm in front of her, and she responded with a glove-muffled high-five. While we were stopped, I decided to shed a layer.

Laurie used this moment to keep processing her thoughts out loud. “It was kinda like I was wandering in the desert and knew about the oasis; I just chose to never go there. Even though my heart was parched with thirst, when others led me to God, I still chose not to drink. Often I had stayed in the coolness, the beauty, the soothing presence of God, but I had never received the cup he offered me. Knowing about the water, even holding a full cup in my hands, still couldn’t keep me from dying of thirst. I had to choose to receive the water, to drink it in. By the same token, it was not enough for me to simply know about God—I needed to receive him into every part of my life.”

I planted my poles together, folded my hands over the grips, and rested my chin on top.

“When I was in my car surrounded by the storm,” Laurie continued, “I stared at Mia lying beside me still sound asleep. She was at peace, resting in my presence. She was completely unruffled by the raging storm outside. She was with me, and that was enough for her. Without a word, my dog became the perfect example of how I should be with my God—I can choose to rest in him. No matter what storm may rage around me, I can rest in his presence.”

“Oh, Lou. Let this image be the strong cord that binds you to the peace of Christ. You know where
your
choosing has led … now it’s time for you to choose him to lead.”

Laurie took a long, deep breath. “I know that Mia’s life will still present challenges. So will mine. None of my problems were magically resolved that night, nor did any of my hardships instantly disappear. Something even better happened. I realized for the first time in my life that—like my sweet dog—I can rest peacefully in the presence of my Master.”

Laurie maneuvered her skis close to mine. Her eyes were sparkling now. I was struck by the radiance that beamed out from them. It was the same brilliance I had just seen earlier, shimmering off the ridge top above us. I smiled in recognition. Both wonders came from the same source of beauty, hope, and peace.

“Through all we’ve discovered together, there’s still one difference between my dog and me. Mia is still blind.” Laurie paused as the tears welled up. “But I can see—really see—for the first time.”

Y
ou know, because of Mia, I now understand that it’s not possible for God’s light, his truth, to fill the space within my heart that’s already full of me.”

Laurie reached across my kitchen counter and helped me gather up a gigantic bowl of salad, several bottles of dressing, and a large Crock-Pot full of pasta. A late fall breeze had been scattering leaves all afternoon. Now they swirled along my deck in a wordless dance of color.

It was Tuesday evening, and our Ranch Fellowship, a relaxed “cowboy church” in our barn, would be starting within the hour. To brace against the night’s chill, we pulled on our jackets and headed out the door, our arms loaded with all the food we could carry. We chose our steps with caution in the
mounting darkness, mindful not to slip. I noticed that Laurie needed to finish her thought, so I slowed my pace even further.

Laurie seized the opportunity. “I’ve squandered so much time as an adult struggling to become dependable, strong, and stable. You know, all the things you think will make you valuable to others. Yet instead of choosing to take the small, consistent steps to nurture those attributes, I’ve done nearly the opposite.”

“The opposite? What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, please don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I have a grip on any of these things yet. What I am saying is, I now recognize that for much of my life I’ve been an impostor, a temporary look-alike that only gave the appearance of having those admirable qualities. When all along, the truth was I had none of them.”

Laurie juggled the food items over to her left arm and pushed open the gate that leads out of our front yard and down the grassy hill toward the barn.

“If I’m brutally honest with myself, until recently I’ve never worked long enough or hard enough to earn any of those worthy characteristics. I applied only enough effort to look like I had
them.” Self-directed disdain tinged her voice. “Candidly, I’d have to admit that my greatest accomplishment of late was to maintain the facade of my former ways. I’ve been an actor for so long.”

She shook her head. “I saw this same pretense reflected by my dog during our trip to the coast. Mia was fine as long as she paid attention to my voice and followed my commands. But as soon as she stopped listening to me and started behaving like she knew what to do and already knew the way, her life quickly became very uncomfortable. I’ve done that too. I’ve pretended like I was close to God, following his voice, but my life, my actions, proved otherwise. Even though I said I was close to him, I wasn’t.

“Once again, it’s my precious little blind dog who’s shown me that the real problem with faking you know something is that you actually don’t know it when you need it the most. Knowing I should have a close relationship with God is not the same as pursuing it. Mia has shown me that if you’re going to purpose to know someone, you can’t do it from a distance.

“A few weeks ago, during one of our fellowships, something happened between Mia and me, something that has moved me to seek change in my own life.”

Laurie walked up the hill with Mia in tow and arrived at the main barn moments before the Ranch Fellowship began. Kids, families, staff, volunteers, and friends of all ages were invited to this twice-monthly event. The seasonal ebb and flow of folks coming typically ranges from around one hundred fifty people in the winter months to over three hundred fifty during the summer. On this night, the crowd looked to be somewhere in between.

Laurie loved this gathering. One of the things she appreciated most was the diversity of the group. Families of all ages and financial brackets, single parents, college students, and widows all mingled together in a congenial time of togetherness. Some folks came to rest and indulge in the alternating catered or potluck meal, some came for the unabashed singing, others came for the encouragement. Many came just for the sense of walking into a giant family and knowing they belonged. No matter what drew people to the Ranch Fellowship, it was clearly one of the most beloved events at Crystal Peaks.

Escaping the nippy night air, Laurie and her dog bumped through the crowded doorway and into the barn. Mia was beset by a horde of little hands that wished to greet her. Laurie scanned the packed room, only to be met by a swarm of grinning, grubby kids. They ignored the evening chill and rushed
to grab her hands and lead her outside toward their favorite horse and to show her how they could roll without stopping all the way down the grassy hill.

Once Laurie made her way back to the barn, she was met by five-year-old Kendal, who held her arms high and jumped. Laurie caught and balanced the little girl on her hip. Before she could take another step, the tiny arms of Kendal’s friend also reached up for some love. Laurie knelt and opened her arms to receive them both in a jubilant group hug. Whether she had been working in the ranch office or out in the arena, no long or exhausting day ever dampened her desire to come to the Ranch Fellowship.

During the summer months, this hospitable gathering was always held outside on a grassy hill. But once the temperature began to drop, the Fellowship moved indoors into the relative comfort of the barn. A massive wood stove against the north wall churned out home-style comfort, inviting all to enjoy its hearty embrace. The rustic conditions provided the perfect setting for Mia to come with Laurie and sit in on the fun.

Winter coats lay piled on benches. Bowls and platters competed for space on the serving counters. Soon dirty plates, napkins, and cups, along with food remnants, would lay scattered across a dozen large wooden tables, all giving testimony to a meal well savored.

Laurie watched a group of small boys crowded around the dessert table. They appeared as innocent as cherubs and as subtle as a pack of wolves, and their mischievous grins belied their intentions. They checked the crowd to see if their mothers were watching and then stole glorious finger swipes of frosting off a tray of cupcakes. Each giggling victory made Laurie laugh too.

The crowd of voices lifted in disjoined volume like a grade school band practice. Laurie knew that trying to guide Mia through such loud surroundings with voice commands was going to be impossible. To lead her dog through the din, Laurie hooked Mia’s collar with a single finger.

Once the hearty meal and equally hearty singing concluded, the crowded barn quieted as Troy endeavored to teach about trust. He started by sharing a wild adventure he had experienced while learning how to pilot a plane. Many of the same little boys who were earlier embezzling frosting now sat on the floor at Troy’s feet, completely spellbound. Minutes into Troy’s talk, Kendal tugged on Laurie’s sleeve and whispered, “I have to go to the bathroom!”