God’s Plans, Not Mine

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Many plans are in a man’s heart,
but the purpose of the Lord will prevail.
Proverbs 19:21

Carl Sandburg said nearly all the best things that came to him in life were unexpected and unplanned. I identify! It’s the same for me when I do a life review. Here are my top three.

***

Peter came flying out the door of our little church house to greet me. As I opened the car door, his arms flew wide to hug me, and he said, Aw, Ms. Pat, I love you. His smile spread from ear to ear, and all the tiredness I had felt when I left home washed away.

Peter was a happy 15-year-old who lived in a group home for individuals with mental disabilities. He had Down syndrome. The group home bus brought Peter and his housemates to church and to our Exceptional Department every Sunday. Two other group homes also brought residents. We had 34 students.

Their challenges ranged from moderte to severe. A few were unable to talk, or at least be understood. They loved being together, and they loved the Lord. They received the weekly church newsletter and would sometimes bring it with them. Dianne would point out the pastor’s picture and say, “I love Dr. Taylor.” She didn’t know him, but she loved him because she received mail from him every week. That said to her, he cared.

After a while and after getting to know each one’s personality, I began taking them to regular worship services. I added slowly to see how it would go. Oh, how they loved that! There was never a problem. They were quiet, didn’t talk to one another, and stood with everyone else when we sang. All were reverent. Eight made professions of faith and were baptized. One cried with joy when she was baptized. Our pastor wept.

My years with them were some of the sweetest of all my unplanned life experiences. It started when a call went out that, without additional help, our church would have to give up this ministry. We were the only church in the city that had a place just for them. Unqualified and not knowing what to expect, I said yes anyway; I would help.

I loved them from Day 1. In a short time, the man who had been so ably managing this outreach for years relocated, and I was asked to take his place. Without hesitation, I agreed. They had become an extremely important part of my life. And I knew it was all God.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord . . .
Jeremiah 29:11

In 1983, I had an unexpected, life-changing event. I divorced, moved to another city, and began working at a large hospital as an administrative assistant to the vice president of Human Resources. I enjoyed my work and the people I worked with.

I had been there for 8 months when the employment director approached me and said they had been flooded with applications for the new patient representative position. Why haven’t you applied? He asked. I told him I didn’t even know what it was. So he explained it generally and concluded with a statement of full confidence that I was the right fit for the position. I had worked 12 years for a physician. The medical field was familiar and comfortable territory.

I applied and was hired. I was elated! This would put me back in the arena I knew and loved best: working with patients and their caregivers.

The patient advocacy program was a new venture at our hospital. My boss wanted ours to be modeled after best practices across the nation. He sent me to other large hospitals that had successful programs. It was easy to identify the one we should model ours after, and what started as a program quickly turned into an administrative department.

Over time, customer service training was added, and then Medical Ethics. For several years, I wrote stories of patient care from the patient’s perspective for a MidSouth Healthcare journal. I became president of the National Association for Patient Representation and Customer Service and a nationwide speaker on patient advocacy. Again, all unplanned. But the print of God’s hand and His will were evident.

Proverbs 3:5 says we are not to rely on our own insight or understanding. The One who made us and gifted us knows what we can do, even when we do not.

The third thing I regard as a God-planned experience was tutoring second-grade students in reading.We have a church school and I had gotten to know the school’s elementary counselor in a prayer group. She wanted to give second graders more opportunity to read to an adult. She explained that most of the students’ parents worked full-time and if she could find volunteers to come in and read with the children, she believed it would be extremely beneficial. She asked if I would help.

I never felt working with children was a good fit for me. I intended to do it for a year to help get it started. But that year turned into 9 years. For once again, God had an unexpected plan for my life.

It quickly went past reading to include mentoring. Contrary to my belief that I was not a good fit with children, the opposite was true. I became a friend and confidante to many of them. Their personal stories sometimes made me laugh and sometimes made me sad.

Being invited into the world of a child, aged 7 to 9, was a gift. I treasure that gift to this day. Some of the students have even chosen to stay in touch.

With each of these life adventures, I felt unqualified. But God doesn’t call us to do anything without giving us the skills to do it. I trusted that. I found He also gives passion. That is the God part of any skill set: the defining difference between work and joyful privilege. The icing on the cake, so to speak.

For we know all things work together for good,
for those that love the Lord and are called according to His purpose.
Romans 8:28

Lingering on Scripture

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Open my eyes that I may see glimpses of truth thou hast for me . . .

This opening line is from a beautiful hymn written by Clara H. Scott in 1895, shortly before her death. It was inspired by Psalm 119, verse 18. She had been reflecting on all God had for people to see and understand — and they missed it. Ms. Scott died in 1897 after being thrown from her carriage by a spooked horse.

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A close friend and longtime Bible teacher said it was not until she received a grim medical diagnosis that Psalm 23 came alive for her. She clung to that psalm, speaking it aloud throughout the day and emphasizing different words to bring it deeper into her mind and heart. She did it like this: THE LORD is my shepherd, the Lord IS my shepherd, the Lord is MY shepherd, the Lord is my SHEPHERD.

It makes a difference when we take time to think about a scripture. To linger a while.

Sometimes, I have wondered how Jesus’ parents lost him for a full day before realizing he was missing. They were on their way home from Jerusalem where they had been to celebrate the Feast of the Passover. Mary and Joseph thought Jesus was in the caravan of friends and family. He was just 12 years old, plus they knew their son wasn’t just any child, so I admit to thinking it seemed irresponsible. Recently when I read and lingered there, I saw a personal meaning. It reminded me that I also can lose sight of Jesus without immediately realizing it. It brought home a truth to me. (Read the story in Luke 2:41-47.)

What is your takeaway on the story of the wedding in Cana of Galilee when the host ran out of wine? It was Jesus’ first miracle (John 2:1-11). Do you think about how his mother took charge? His obedience to his mother? What the servants were thinking as they filled the stone jars with water? I personally linger a while with how anything Jesus touches is made better. When Jesus turned water into wine, the wedding guests declared with awe that wine was better than the wine first served. The revered theologian Matthew Henry says we should always expect more than we ask (of Jesus). I have certainly found that to be true with answered prayers, those of my own, and those of others.

I once taught a class on The Healings of Jesus. In preparation, I searched diligently through the gospels to identify the different healings and be sure I didn’t count the same healing more than once. It was an interesting study. After hours of research, a pastor friend loaned me a book with the full information. Though the book would have given me answers quickly from the beginning, I am glad I didn’t know about it when I began the study. I enjoyed the research and learned more by digging deep for the answers.

John 14:17 says the Holy Spirit reveals the truth of God. So, I encourage you to begin reading scripture by asking God what He wants you to take from your reading. Look for the details, and think about the different ones involved in a story and how their perspectives might differ. You may see a promise you believe is for you. If so, date it, and make a note. Always thank God for His Word and revelations, and ask Him to store those truths in your heart.

There is never a loss when we linger over scripture — just gain.

_______________

This is an excellent book if you care to add it to your library. There is much more than the healings of Jesus.

Ruth: a book with a happy ending

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“Ruth is my favorite book,” my second-grade reading friend Lauren said, “because it has a happy ending.” It does indeed.

The Old Testament book of Ruth tells us about the journey to the happy ending. It is a story about another woman, also central to the story, Naomi, the mother-in-law of Ruth. Before we get to the happy ending, we read about struggle, loss, and brokenness. It tells us of Naomi’s doubt about God’s love for her because of all she went through. We learn from Ruth the outcome of devotion for one in need: kindness, respect, submission, obedience, service, and trust.

Naomi returned to the land of Judah after the famine there had ended. It was 10 years later. She came back a woman who had lost her husband and both sons while living in Moab. Naomi said on her return that she should no longer be called Naomi (meaning pleasant) but Mara (bitter, sorrowful) for the Almighty had dealt bitterly with her. “I went out full, but the Lord has brought me back empty” (Ruth 1:20-21).

Yet, Naomi was not empty and God had not forsaken her. God had provided a daughter-in-law, Ruth, who loved her and refused to stay behind in her homeland. She was determined to go with Naomi and care for her since Naomi was alone.

Ruth was a Moabite woman Naomi’s son had married. She told Naomi “Where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God” (Ruth 1:16).

Once back in Bethlehem, it was up to Ruth to provide for the two of them, as Naomi was aged. Naomi directed Ruth in what she should do and we see the hand of God begin to move.

Ruth did everything just as Naomi said, never questioning. And, the “happy ending” is that Ruth marries a good man, Boaz, a Redeemer Kinsman, and this union preserves the family name. It provides Naomi with a grandson, Obed, who becomes the grandfather of King David. The lineage of Jesus unfolds and Naomi is a part of this beautiful story. Not only does the Almighty provide for Naomi’s care, but her name is forever remembered in biblical history.

Most of us have been at a time when we thought all was lost. We wondered if God had forgotten or rejected us. David called out “How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?” (Psalms 13:1) Many times we read in the Psalms where David questioned God, asking when He would rescue him. Yet even with his doubting, we know God said that David was a man after His own heart (1 Samuel 13:14, Acts 13:22).

We must never give up hope when we cannot see the answer to our prayers. God is always with His children and forever will be. In most cases, we eventually see God’s plan and that it is better than anything we could have ever imagined to ask for. However, there are some things we will only understand in Heaven. Still, we trust, for we can rest assured in Romans 8:28: “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.

All scripture quotes are from the New American Standard Bible. I encourage you to read the book of Ruth for full background in any translation.

Our Profession of Faith

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For many of us it was a marker in our lives to walk down the church aisle and profess our belief in Jesus Christ. It was a proud moment to know that for all eternity we were His. There were those who cried tears of joy. Our parents and grandparents, maybe other family members, Sunday school teachers, others who had prayed for our salvation. It was not a thing we took lightly.

I am bothered by the way it is sometimes done today. “Every head bowed; every eye closed. If there are those who want to make Jesus their Savior and Lord today, just lift your hand. We don’t want to embarrass you, just lift your hand. If you’ve done that, we believe you are saved.”

Let’s ponder that a bit. The Father gave His Son for us in a humiliating, tortuous way. There should be a run down the aisle, not a hand raised with no one looking. Someone told me she would probably never have walked an aisle; she was too shy and wouldn’t want people looking at her. How do you think Jesus felt hanging naked and bleeding on a cross? How do you think His mother felt as she looked on?

It seems we’ve taught the world it’s okay to keep your belief in God a private matter.  “Every head bowed; every eye closed.” Please ponder again. People can stand for their sports team without any hesitancy. They can display excitement. They can talk enthusiastically about a win. Yet the biggest win of all is eternal life and we hold back on that one. My mother said when she walked the aisle to profess faith, her Aunt Ollie shouted with joy. Aunt Ollie was mentally challenged, but the Holy Spirit enlightened her about that moment. I love Mother’s story.

I’m glad I professed faith in a time when walking the aisle to the preacher at the front was the only acceptable way. It was required. By so doing, you were publicly declaring that Jesus was your Savior and Lord. You stood at the front for people of the congregation to file by and congratulate you on your decision.

Professing Christ should be a proud and glorious moment for every believer. It is the beginning of our witnessing, and it’s the beginning of our eternal life.

Therefore, anyone who confesses me before men, I will also confess him before my Father in Heaven. –Matthew 10:32 NASB

Practicing Graciousness

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Let your graciousness be known to everyone, the Lord is near.
–Philippians 4:5 CEB

I’ve been on a mission to memorize scripture. This verse seemed to lift off the page as I read it so I felt it must be something the Lord had for me. I memorized and reflected daily until I knew it was locked securely in my mind.

A few weeks ago, I lost internet and landline service. I called my provider and they promised to be out the next day. It didn’t happen. No one called to tell me that they weren’t coming. So I rescheduled with another commitment from the provider that I was not to worry, someone would definitely be out the next day. It didn’t happen, and I had rescheduled two other appointments to be here when they came. I kept calling and they kept promising. I had to wrangle with the little robot man each time to get through to a real person. While waiting, I had to listen to marketing blurbs. Buying something in addition was definitely not the noise I wanted to hear.

After the second time of being told I could trust them and confidently expect a service call this time, I knew the agents were reading from a script. I knew I could not trust a repairman would come, but I wanted service back so I continued to move other appointments (but not happily) for their convenience. For 11 days I called in, battled the robot man, and rescheduled appointments. I felt like I was caught in the movie Groundhog Day. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

I became more than a little frustrated, and yes, angry. Towards the end of my many conversations, the scripture I had recently committed to memory, Philippians 4:5, came to mind. I felt like the Lord was speaking to me: Had I just memorized the verse for mental exercise, or did I intend to practice it? Certainly, by this time I wasn’t being gracious with anyone.

With this tickling of my conscience, I mentally and emotionally settled down and determined to practice graciousness. No more yelling at the little robot man. What a senseless thing anyway but I can’t seem to not do it. I decided there would be no more indignantly stating my case for the umpteenth time. I would talk calmly. I would be kind. I would respect that the person answering my call had no more control over this bad situation than I did. It occurred to me to simply change providers, but how could I know it would be any different? With the decision to hang in and be gracious to every person I spoke with, a peace settled over me that I knew was from the Lord.

When a repairman finally came and got my service up and going again, I had to firmly clasp my hands behind my back to keep from hugging him! It turned out the service techs in 10 states were on strike. Technicians had been called from other areas of the US to help. My repairman was from North Dakota.

What does it mean to be gracious? It means to behave in a manner that honors the Lord,. To be morally right, to speak and act with grace. kindness, and respect for the individual. I couldn’t fix the company, but I could fix me.

And about that last part, the Lord is near.
The Lord is near. I can know His presence and lean into His calm and strength.
The Lord is near. He is always beside me to gently remind and guide me in ways of graciousness.
The Lord is near. He is watching for my reaction. Which one shall I choose?

The lamp of the Lord searches the spirit of a man.
–Proverbs 20:27 (NIV)

Mother’s Lessons for Using, Not Wasting

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Her words are sensible and her advice thoughtful.
She takes good care of her family and is never lazy.
–Proverbs 31:26-27

There is a delightful children’s book titled My Favorite Dress. As the little girl grows taller and bigger, her mother keeps her happy by finding creative ways for her daughter to hold on to her favorite dress. It first becomes a blouse with a ruffled hem, then a short skirt, a playsuit, a scarf, footies, and finally a hair bow. It was a good lesson in making the most of what we have.

My mother was a master of doing this. Someone gave Daddy a huge bolt of flannel fabric once. He probably accepted it as payment for some work he had done. Mother turned the navy flannel into several blankets. The edges were bound in light blue from fabric scraps she had saved. The blankets, warm and lightweight, turned out to be our favorites.

I learned from Mother how to turn the collar on a man’s shirt when the inside became frayed from rubbing against the neck. By removing the collar, turning it over to the “good” side, and then stitching it back in place, you could never tell. I did that once in my early days of marriage when money was tight and I felt very proud of knowing how to save one of my husband’s favorite shirts.

Mother made a big pan of biscuits almost every morning. She made the best! They were light as air. If any were left over, they were turned into a bread pudding for dessert. Topped with a lightly browned meringue, Biscuit Pudding was delicious hot or cold.

Muscadines were plentiful in our backyard. They were beautifully preserved as jelly, but Mother found another use. She made muscadine cobblers. I mentioned Mother’s muscadine cobblers to a friend who said she had never heard of using them that way. I doubt Mother had either, but here was this bountiful crop of muscadines and her determination not to waste anything, so we had muscadine cobblers. Different and delicious.

Mother’s spring garden gave us all the strawberries we could want. Sweetened, mashed fresh berries were usually in the refrigerator for shortcakes with whipped cream, or spread over hot buttered biscuits. Then there were her strawberry custard pies and strawberry dumplings! They belong in this blog because of the timing of when the strawberries were used. When a bowl of sweetened strawberries held in the refrigerator began to get just a little past fresh, that’s when Mother used them in a meringue-topped pie or dropped pastry strips into a thickened and boiling strawberry mixture for dumplings. I can’t even describe how wonderful both of these desserts were!

Like the little girl with a favorite dress, I was blessed to have a creative mother. Her mother and my mother knew how to extend the pleasure of good things. I heard Mother say many times

Use it up,
wear it out,
make it do,
or do without.

Mother’s Biscuit Pudding
6 cold homemade biscuits
1 c. hot water
Pour water over the biscuits and let soak a while. Crumble.

2/3 c. sugar
¼ stick margarine, melted
1 t. imitation vanilla
2 eggs (use beaten yolks in the pudding and save the whites for meringue)
2 c. whole milk
Mix and add to the crumbled biscuits. Stir well. Pour the pudding mixture into a Pyrex dish. Bake at 350 deg until set. Spoon a meringue on top and brown.

Meringue:
2 egg whites
2 T. sugar
Beat the whites until frothy and then slowly add the sugar while beating until it holds peaks. Spoon onto the pudding and put it back in the oven just long enough to brown the meringue.

Notes:
I watched Mother make the pudding and wrote this down back in the 60s. Then, we mostly used margarine because we didn’t know it was harmful and was much less expensive than butter. I would use butter today. It was a long time before I switched to pure vanilla. We never had that in our house when I was growing up. So, I would say use ½ t. of pure vanilla. To know if the pudding has “set,” stick a knife in near the center, and when it comes out clean, it’s set. I would begin checking at 30 minutes.

My parents, Louise and Walter Luffman

The Day I Knew

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Suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him . . .   Acts 9:5

I remember the day so well. It was late afternoon and I was returning home from my grandparents’ house. I was deep in thought as I crossed the railroad tracks and began kicking rocks as I neared the highway. Running parallel, they ran through the center of our small town.

Our church was in one of our two yearly revivals; one in the spring and another in the fall. I never minded going to church every night for a week. In fact, I looked forward to the music that reached a new level with a packed house singing the hymns. Members of neighboring churches visited during revival, just like we visited when they held revivals. And, it was always exciting to see how good the visiting preacher would be.

The thing I was thinking so hard on was about the profession of faith people were invited to make each night as we sang the final hymn – the invitation hymn, it was called. Most often, it was Softly and Tenderly, I Surrender All, or Just as I Am. It was an emotional closing as people prayed for their loved ones to walk the aisle and make their decision for Christ. 

I believe I was in the sixth grade and I had not yet made my public profession. I wasn’t resistant, I was confused. I had always believed in God and believed that Jesus was my Savior. What more was there? What was I missing? Lord, please tell me, I prayed.

When I got home, our pastor was sitting in our living room with my mother. He had come to talk to me about it all. This was something Baptist preachers did during the week of revival back in the day.  I truly don’t remember a word he said, but during that time, it all became clear in my mind. Yes, I was saved and there was no mysterious other thing I was to learn or do. I had it all. But it was time to make my faith public. And that night I did.

All these memories rushed back a few days ago when I was reading Paul’s Damascus Road experience in Acts 9. The part about the light from heaven. When my pastor left, my mother and I embraced and it was suddenly as if the room was filled with the brightest sunlight and it seemed I could almost hear angels singing. It was an unforgettable experience. Thank you, Lord, for this!

I read that Ruth Bell Graham, Billy Graham’s wife, said she never knew the exact time she was saved because she had always believed. Her parents were missionaries and it was a part of her life just like it had been part of mine. I’m grateful God gave me a Christian family where He would be as real as the air I breathed.

So, here is my testimony. I share it with you as an encouragement to be sure things are settled in your heart, as well. There is nothing sweeter or more important than knowing we belong to Jesus. And there is never a more important time than right now.

Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling,

calling for you and for me;

See, on the portals, He’s waiting and watching,

Watching for you and for me.

*This hymn was written by Will L. Thompson in 1880 and has been published in 866 hymnals.

My Dormeyer Mixer

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When I married in 1962, my parents gave me a Dormeyer mixer. It was top-of-the-line. My dad believed that investing in quality and paying a little more served well in the long run. That was 62 years ago and my Dormeyer is still operating fine.

I was excited about the stainless-steel mixer. It even had a grinder attachment! It was given a place of honor on my very first kitchen counter.

Cooking and baking were in my genes. I began baking when I was 15. Like my mother and grandmother, everything was made from “scratch.” I took pride in that. I still do.

My mother and grandmother were masters in the kitchen. They had big gardens, nut and fruit trees, and berry bushes, and they preserved their bounty by canning, freezing, and drying. They put the best food on the table. I wanted to uphold the tradition and having this mixer would be a huge assist. It was certainly something my mother and grandmother didn’t have when they were new brides.

I could not begin to guess how many spins my Dormeyer mixer has made in six decades. It has been serviced only once; it was repaired by my brother when he was in trade school forty years ago. Daddy ordered extra beaters to have while they could still be gotten. Manufacturers do have a way of cutting quality and replacing the exceptional with satisfactory.

So, what does this have to do with a prayerful pondering?

  1. Investing well always pays off. Invest in your relationship with God, with family, with friends, in your work.
  2. If any of those relationships suffer, repair them if you can, and keep moving forward. (The one relationship always repairable is your one with God.)
  3. Be grateful for the gifts you are given, and use them to serve others.
  4. Honor your heritage.
  5. Treasure your memories.
  6. Value what you’ve been given by treating it well.

In the Garden

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I come to the garden alone . . .

In the Garden was Daddy’s favorite hymn. It was played at his funeral thirty years ago, and I still can’t sing it through without weeping. It brings tears because of what I believe it meant to Daddy personally.

My father was a very private man, not one to share his thoughts and feelings. He dealt with his concerns alone with the Lord. That’s where he sought and found strength and direction.

Daddy’s parents died of tuberculosis when he was four. His sister, the oldest of six children, died trying to keep the family together. Minnie Lee was twenty-six when she died of the same disease. Daddy was twelve. It fell to the oldest brother and his wife to keep the family intact.

When just eighteen, Daddy married my mother, who was fifteen. In those early years, Daddy worked as a sharecropper, a church custodian, and a garage mechanic. Whatever was available.

My mother’s parents took Daddy in the year before my parents married. My grandmother said people just did that then. When someone needed a home and you could provide, you took them in, you didn’t go through a formal adoption process. Mother’s parents became the only parents that Daddy remembered and he never failed to respect and honor what they did for him.

I was just six months old when Daddy enlisted in the Army. He came back an injured World War II veteran. He spent two hospitalizations in a VA hospital due to his injuries, yet would never accept the compensation due him. There were times we could have used the aid, but Daddy held his ground about not accepting money for serving his country when he was able to work. Only the Lord knows why.

As far as I know, there were only two things Daddy ever spoke about regarding the war and that was to Mother. He told her the scars around his waist were from rat bites while in a foxhole. It took her a year to get that information. The other thing was his promise to God that if He would let him come home to his family, he would spend the rest of his life taking care of others. He fulfilled that promise and it was only after his death that we knew much of what he had quietly done to help others.

Daddy was mayor of our small town for twelve years, and also a sheriff’s deputy. He had a total of thirty-five years in law enforcement. From time to time, his dedication to service brought its challenges. Someone burned a cross in our front yard once. Another person tacked up posters right before an election attacking Daddy’s integrity. When he walked me down the aisle to marry, his arm was in a cast, broken while arresting someone for domestic violence.

In my growing up years, our needs were certainly provided for, but there were no extravagances. I remember at least two store robberies. Then, due to his second VA hospitalization, he had to forfeit his small business and re-mortgage our house. Eventually, all was recovered and things improved for my parents financially. For that, I am very grateful.

When I hear In the Garden, I reflect on all the walks and talks with God Daddy must surely have had. About the pain he endured: physical, mental, emotional. The times he struggled to provide for a family of five while proudly, and I believe foolishly, refusing any help from the nation he fought for. All the times he sought guidance when he didn’t know what to do next. All the times he asked for strength to do what he believed was right. I suspect those garden walks started early when he was a little orphaned boy, frightened and confused.

Daddy, along with Mother, is buried in the cemetery at the church, where he was saved and baptized as a young man. You step out the back door of the still active country church, and there you are – in a beautifully tended garden. I can’t think of a more fitting resting place. Someday that garden will be my resting place, too.

And He walks with me and He talks with me. And He tells me I am his own . . .

The hymn, In the Garden, was written in 1912 by C. Austin Miles. Daddy was born in 1916. Perhaps he had known this song all his life, maybe the first hymn he remembered. I wish I had thought to ask.

Sue and Sophie, Caregivers

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Sue was an ICU nurse in one of our outlying hospitals and was critically injured in a horrible automobile accident. The ICU that had been her workplace became where she lay as a patient.

The prognosis for Sue was poor. She might not make it. Her fellow nurses thought Sue should be allowed to see the one family member she had – a little long-haired chihuahua named Sophie. It was the 1990s, and hospital policies didn’t allow animals in, not even pets of terminally ill patients. Yet somehow, these very determined nurses and friends arranged for an exception.  

Sophie was brought in and laid against Sue, who was unconscious. Sophie, a model of good behavior, was permitted to snuggle for quite a while. After the visit, and for the first time, things began to turn around for Sue in a positive way. She began to show improvements.

Being reunited with Sophie had made a difference. I know this was how it happened because Sue told me. She knew her companion was there with her, loving her, needing her, and it put in Sue the will to live.

Sue made a commitment in those long days of recovery that once she was well enough, she was going to have Sophie trained to be a therapy dog. Sue wanted to be able to give others what she had been given.

Sue stayed true to that goal and Sophie became a certified therapy dog. They visited nursing homes and other facilities where therapy dogs were allowed.

Sue called and asked if she and Sophie might come for a visit to the parent hospital where I worked. The hope was to begin the change of system policy and allow therapy dogs in our hospitals. We set a time and Sue and Sophie drove for three hours to try and make a difference for patients through animal therapy.

We paid a visit to the vice president of nursing and Sue worked Sophie through obedience tests. She responded without hesitation to Sue’s every command. The convincing test I suppose was that she paid no heed to treats laid right beneath her nose until Sue gave her the signal that it was okay. Sophie proved herself trustworthy and we were given permission to visit a cancer patient who was missing her dog terribly.

Sophie regally walked the hall to the cancer care unit. She knew who she was. She wore her therapy dog tag with pride and held her head high. She paid no mind to those she passed by and wondered what a dog was doing in our hospital. Sophie looked straight ahead, headed toward her mission.

Arriving at her point of caregiving, Sophie was given the go-ahead to get up on the bed. Our patient crooned and loved on Sophie. Tears came to the patient’s eyes. It wasn’t her dog she got to see, but it was the next best thing. Sophie gave our patient comfort and emotional support. Her medicine was attention and affection. Just like she had given Sue, Sophie that day gave our patient hope for a brighter tomorrow.

I am pretty certain Sophie’s visit was the best medicine our patient received that day — maybe that week. She thanked Sophie and Sue repeatedly for coming.

I wish I could say we immediately wrote a policy for animal therapy. That didn’t happen. It takes time and patience and many departments to turn a hospital ship around. But it was a beginning. It definitely made a difference for our pet-lonely patient. It made a difference for Sue as a nurse to push the boundaries a little further on behalf of emotional support for patients. It made a difference for Sophie. Animals always know when they are loved and appreciated. Sophie knew from her training that she was contributing to patient care.

Martin Buber said, “An animal’s eyes have the power to speak a great language.” Once you’ve had an animal as a companion, you understand this truth. I would add it’s also about their touch. Their eyes and their touch speak love. They somehow know just what we need. Sophie knew. Sophie gave.

So God created. . .every living creature that moves. And God saw that it was good. –Genesis 1:21 ESV

You care for people and animals alike, O LORD. –Psalm 36:6

Note: Therapy dogs and service dogs are not the same. Here are some links for further understanding.

https://www.mayoclinichealthsystem.org/hometown-health/transforming-health-care/wagging-tail-and-puppy-eyes-bring-comfort

https://midtowners.webs.com/therapydogs.htm