Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued (7 page)

Laurie gazed out over the ranch. “All this time, I’ve been such a horrible, selfish person. I’ve pretended to be kind and caring but, in reality, only when it served me. In the short season I’ve been with her, Mia, in all her mangy awfulness, has been far more of a loving creature than I ever have. I am the wretched, mangy, awful one!

“How could I have been so foolish? After watching my dog look right at me, acknowledge my presence, and then willfully choose to turn around and go her own way, I now see that, from God’s perspective, I’ve been doing the exact same thing. When I saw my dog bound away, I saw an accurate image of myself. That’s what I’ve been doing for years. No wonder my life has been so messed up.”

Sitting with her arms balanced across her knees, Laurie lowered her head and wept. I held back my desire to rush in to console her, to fix the problem, and waited in silence. I too have
stood on thresholds of honest reflection. It is painful but necessary for growth. It doesn’t feel good, but it is good. To move away from our difficult lessons too quickly, to not take time to understand and feel their weight, is to be robbed of their rich purposes.

While Laurie grieved, I put my hand on her knee and made small, comforting circles with my thumb. The sun sank low in the sky until it finally balanced on the jagged horizon. Laurie drew in deep breaths and began to collect herself. An exhausted sound escaped her lips as she employed her T-shirt sleeve to dry her face.

Still processing her thoughts, Laurie continued. “For years, my mind has been consumed with resentment toward God for allowing painful events in my life. All this time, I’ve conveniently chosen to be caught in a loop of challenging God with questions. Each one focused solely on me and what I wanted.”

“What questions?”

“Oh, all my questions sound nearly the same:
Where is God when I need him? If God really loves me, why doesn’t he make my hardships stop? Why doesn’t he take me out of the storms that beset my life? Isn’t that what real love does? Why doesn’t he surround me with peace? When my troubles appear, why does God disappear?
Why? Why? Why?
That has been my constant, nagging interrogation.”

Laurie placed her hands over her ears like a hear-no-evil monkey. “I kept saying, ‘God! I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!’” With her hands still covering her ears, she stopped and stared at me. “The truth is, I couldn’t hear him because I didn’t want to.”

I nodded, not wishing to interrupt her momentum.

“What’s also true is that I’ve been living pretty much my whole life just like my wayward dog. Because of Mia, I can clearly see that all along it was my own self-centered obsessions that plugged my ears and blinded my eyes from understanding God’s perspective.”

Laurie took a deep breath and sighed. “Now I’m beginning to get it. God never promises a perfect life—he promises perfect peace. I never understood the power of that statement as a kid because my life was easy then. And once I realized I needed God’s perfect peace, I chose instead the fool’s pursuit of a perfect life.”

I hoped she would keep thinking out loud, so I said nothing and smiled to encourage her.

She lowered her chin and spoke to the ground. “I’ve been so dumb, I’ve been so selfish! No human voice could break
through my wall of pride. It took a dog to show me what I’ve been doing and what I must look like to God.”

She plucked a single blade of grass and methodically tore it into little pieces. “I think it’s time for me to stop questioning and to start listening.”

After more silence and many shredded blades of grass, I said, “It sounds like you’re making some progress. So what are you hearing?”

“Well, because of Mia, I’m gaining perspective. The picture of my life has come into sharp focus. I’ve been treating God like a bank and going to him only in great anger or deep sorrow. Then I would beg or demand him to give me what I wanted: peace, love, comfort, health, finances—my list was long! I’m sad to say that when my requests were not met within my time frame, I would storm away and blame him for everything that had gone wrong in my life.

“Now, because of my sweet yet disobedient dog, I understand that God has been calling out to me for years. He has been answering my prayers all along. He just didn’t answer them in a way that I recognized.”

Laurie paused. “Because the reality is, I never recognized him.”

“Wow.” I looked directly into Laurie’s eyes. “I’m so glad God brought you and Mia together. Who would have thought
that a mirror could have four paws? What a sweet change of attitude we can assume when we understand that God is with us, whether we are running away from him or to him.”

Laurie looked steadily back. “My dog has taught me that if I don’t like where my life has ended up, I can only blame myself. Because, just like my dog, I’m the only one who can choose which direction I run.”

T
he long, hot days of summer slowly relinquished their rule, vanquished by the glory of fall. One chilly autumn evening, Laurie joined me in front of a crackling fire for a bowl of beef stew. Our workday was finished, and we were looking forward to catching up before she went home to Mia.

Laurie cupped a brimming bowl in both hands and held it close to her body. “Mmm, this is nearly as good as eating it. My hands were getting so cold before we came up to the house.”

Stew bowls in hand, we moved to our small family room and settled on two leather couches I had purchased at a secondhand store. Laurie let out a contented sigh. “This has been a remarkable time for Mia and me. Almost every day brings a
different challenge. What I have enjoyed most about this time is the softening I see in Mia.”

“Softening? How so?” I blew the steam off my spoonful of stew.

“Well, apparently she has moved beyond the season of viewing me as a stranger who calls her by a weird name to being someone she actually trusts. Mia is accepting me, faults and all.”

“What do you mean, ‘faults and all’?”

Laurie rolled her eyes and let out her “Uh-huh” laugh, letting me know she was aware of my desire to get to the core of what she needed to talk about. “Well, this once skinny, unattractive dog no one else wanted has been changing my life one day at a time. She’s managed to do what no friend, church, therapist, boyfriend, or self-help group has been able to do—ever.” Her gaze drifted; she was lost in thought.

I took another bite of my stew and raised my eyebrows in a comical fashion.

Laurie glanced up and caught my silly expression. She laughed and then said, “If only I could love me like my dog loves me. She ignores my false veneer and jumps right into the real me. I can tell Mia has grown to really love me. She is my
scruffy, damaged dog, who is choosing to love this scruffy, damaged girl.”

I smiled. “Lou, we all have our scruffy, damaged places. It’s the process of healing, of growing beyond our shortcomings, that shapes who we can become. We each get to choose whether our hardships will ruin us—or refine us.

“Other than Christ, nobody’s born perfect. Nobody gets everything right the first time. If we so choose, it is our scruffy, damaged-ness that can teach us so much. I’m able to think of little else that can drive us more quickly to a place of perseverance, forgiveness, and compassion. Honestly, as unpleasant as our weak and rough places are, they all can be used to teach us the antithesis of the very issues we struggle with.”

Laurie’s intent expression encouraged me to go on.

“For instance, growing through a time of unbearable stress can help you understand the true value of peace. By choosing to work through resentment and an unwillingness to forgive, we can learn a greater depth of forgiveness and love. Does that make sense?”

Laurie nodded in agreement.

“Girl, every hardship we face is an opportunity to either break down or break through. We choose the outcome. For each difficulty we struggle with, we decide if it will make us weaker or stronger.”

Laurie spoke in earnest. “Because the relationship between Mia and me is safe and forgiving, I’m learning how to genuinely love. Unlike the love I had previously known in all my failed relationships, I’m discovering that real love has roots.”

Her eyes brightened, and she set aside her stew bowl. “Day after day, my dog is showing me that nothing can grow without roots, including love.” With one hand covering her heart and the other in a palm-up position, she began to recall the insights she was learning from her dog. “She shows me how honest love is like a tree; it stands firm and it perseveres through storms.”

“How did you learn that from Mia?” I asked.

“Well, in the beginning, Mia ran away because she didn’t really know me. But, as we built a relationship founded on trust, everything changed. No matter how late I get home, Mia’s always thrilled to see me and greets me with joy. She’s not unhappy when I’m exhausted and irritable; she still wants to lick my face. No matter how frustrated I might be with her, she looks beyond my shortcomings and accepts me right where I am.”

In mouth-full-of-stew agreement, I pointed at Laurie with my spoon and nodded. She grinned and waited for me to swallow. “You’re so right about real love having roots,” I said. “Anything that lasts can’t do so without having a solid base. Real love doesn’t focus on another’s faults; it reaches past that topsoil
and sends down roots into what’s real. When we do this with each other, we imitate the same strong support redwood trees give each other. Being from California, you’ve surely seen the redwood groves there.”

“I have. They’re incredible.”

“Then you’ve noticed how they never grow alone. As tall as they are, if they stood alone, even minor winds would blow them over. Instead, they always grow in groves so they can intertwine their roots and anchor each other. By doing so, they literally hold each other up during violent storms. Genuine love does that; its roots reach beyond superficiality and entwine the very heart, soul, and essence of who we are one to another. In a very simple way, your dog has done this.”