March ending 2019

March bursts with hope. Spring officially begins, signaling fresh life after winter’s cold, grey days when the only color is a darting red cardinal in the stark little woods. Birds sing in chorus early dawn. A myriad of sprouts push through hard soil. Even the dreaded daylight saving time that subtracts an hour from me and won’t be recovered until fall gives me more light in the evening hours. It is a month of hope and a time for singing.

As March began, I started an eight-week Bible study with an incredible group of women. Kelly Minter’s studies are some of my favorite. Working our way through No Other Gods, we discover the internal workings of our hearts, how even a blessing and gift from God can become an ultimate thing to us, and then false god.

Meeting weekly to discuss what we’re learning doubles the rewards. One week we answered the question, “What are you afraid of?” The women answered: “being left alone;” “who will take care of me?” “will the retirement account last?” “will my children keep the faith?”

Speaking aloud our fears was courageous and somehow took the sting away. As we face the unknowns, we recount the faithfulness of the God we serve, His everlasting love, His strong arm to keep us and those we love. We are assured, once again, that greater is He who is within us than he who is within the world.

I’ve been playing piano and keyboard with the worship band at my church. It’s nice that they let this silver-haired senior join a great group of musicians. I’m practicing a lot and enjoying the experience and camaraderie.

A neighbor’s little dog has taken to wandering to our house when he gets loose. When Maisie and I are out, she is delighted to see Boone and wants to play. Boone has the advantage of running free while Maisie is tethered to her leash. They enjoyed their little frolic, but I feel her sadness as he trots home.

I’ve notice people using the word organic a lot these days, and not necessarily when talking about vegetables. Apparently relationships develop organically and businesses grow organically. Words and their meanings evolve over time. It’s interesting how culture shapes definitions.

I’ve been reading poetry despite that I find it difficult to comprehend the poet’s intention sometimes. So I’m choosing a series of “Poetry for Young People” from my library. This month it was Emily Dickinson and Maya Angelou. It helps if I read the poems aloud. It helps that there are hints to understanding the poem on each page of the book. And it helps that I’m learning like a youth, which is fine with me.

While browsing my library, I happened upon a couple of books about downsizing, took them home and then I wonder what that is about. Is it our time? Many of our friends have dared to purge their belongings and move somewhere smaller and more manageable. They’ve let go of life-long collections and lightened the load of a former lifestyle. They talk like it is freeing. I’m not sure we are there yet, but apparently I’m thinking about it.

My granddaughter and I had a “chat” via text about gardening. She remembers the mint in my herb garden, spearmint, apple and chocolate. She bought some for herself and sent pictures after she planted them in clay pots. It’s endearing to know she has good memories of our time together when she was young.

I invited my four-year-old neighbor to help me prepare a pumpkin patch between our houses. He came with his boots and gloves. We laid cardboard on the ground to kill the grass and put wood chunks on top to keep it in place. He talked about all sorts of things as we explored the yard and lake, discovered bird’s nests and watched geese sitting on eggs. We picked daffodils and grape hyacinths for his mother, gathered sticks and collected rocks and pine cones.

I remembered when my grandchildren were small and living next door, how they loved to come and be in the yard with me. It didn’t matter what we were doing just as long as we were doing it together.

After the work and the walk, my little neighbor and I went into the house to fix coffee for his dad and Sweet William who were now visiting on the deck and hot cocoa for him. He said, “You make the best hot cocoa,” making me smile. When I added some cookies to the tray of coffee cups, he exclaimed, “It’s gonna be a party.”

Taxes are prepared, filed, and crossed off my March list, along with a number of other goals. April has its own agenda: cleaning out the garage and moving tender plants to the fresh air and sunshine; oiling and sharpening garden tools; cutting a tree that succumbed to the windy storms. The yard is calling to me. It’s time to get to work.

My body moves slowly and I know gardening is going to be a challenge. I notice my hands when I’m teaching piano, the raised veins and pronounced wrinkles of living a long time, and I wonder how I got this old. Sweet William said it happened one day at a time. Sometimes he is profound.

I would not go back to youth unless I could retain the wisdom I’ve gained, the one advantage of age. I’ve received several hard-fought degrees in the School of Hard Knocks. I’m working on my Ph.D now. My dissertation will be the end of my life and the legacy I leave behind. I hope it is a good one.

I’ve decided April is the new January. After essentially hibernated during the first months of 2019, it’s time for adventure, for anticipating spontaneity and serendipity.

The season of Lent will end and Palm Sunday, Easter and Passover are holidays to celebrate. It is a time of holy preparation, a time to remember and rejoice, to expect a miracle, to believe and see the glory of God.

Prepare. Remember. Rejoice. Expect. Believe. It’s time.

Once I was lost

It’s coming upon a year since we adopted our little girl Maisie, a dog who was recued from the streets. We have watched her turn from a timid, sad creature to a happy and healthy furry friend.

I got home late one night this week and walked Maisie when the sun had already set, and any lingering daylight was almost lost in the clouds of a rainy day.

We met a neighbor and her dog as we headed toward our house. In their tussled greeting of each other, Maisie pulled free from her collar and my heart went to my throat. She is a fast runner and had escaped from the house a few times, but I had been able to retrieve her after a few minutes. As soon as she was loose  from the collar and leash, she sped away in the direction of a cat we had passed a little earlier. I could hear her yelping go farther in the distance as she was on the chase.

“I have gone astray like a lost sheep . . . ” Psalm 119:176

I hurried to the door of the house and called for Sweet William to bring the treat jar. I’ve enticed Maisie to me on other occasions with a shake of the jar.

I went toward the sound of her yelping, calling her name and shaking the jar. This time it was not working.

My neighbor put her dog in the house and came to our yard to help me. We could hear and see glimpses of Maisie’s white hair as she ran through the little woods that surround our house. Our calling was lost on her. She was intent on finding the trail of that cat.

My neighbor thought Maisie was close enough once as she lunged for her, then fell flat on the ground. Our efforts were failing.

Maisie came out of the wood, nose still to the ground and ran around our house. She was headed to other houses, other neighborhoods, the busy road just beyond. I went after her knowing she has no sense about traffic. If she went to the road, I feared the worst, that she would be hit by an oncoming car. If she left our neighborhood, there is not telling where she would end up.

What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? —Luke 15:4

It was dark by now and there were no glimpses of my little girl, no sounds of her bark. My dread was that she was gone. Gone too far for me to find her tonight. I would have to look tomorrow when it was daylight.

Maisie could not know that the only food she might find out there in the raw world would be trash, her water would be stale and muddy. She would search for someplace out of the weather to sleep and she would be cold. There would be no kibble provided, the kind that keeps her healthy and her coat shiny. She would be unprotected where coyotes roam and people with shotguns are not afraid to use them. She would not have a fence where she could run and play and still be under the watchful eyes of Sweet William and me.

He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. –Luke 15:16

She did not realize that we are the fountain from which her every blessing flows.

As I headed to the house where Sweet William was praying for her to return, I heard him call me, “She’s in the fence.” How in the world?

My neighbor had enticed Maisie with one of the treats we were both carrying in our hands, and she had lured her inside the fence behind the house, the fence we put up just for Maisie. The fence with both gates open for her to run into.

The kindness of God leads us to repentance. –Romans 2:4

I gathered up the wet, muddy mess she was, carried her to the bathtub and began to wash her. I found a bloody place on her neck where she had probably tangled with the wild blackberry brambles throughout the little woods.

As I rinsed off the sudsy water, I leaned my face down to Maisie’s face and I cried, tears of relief and thankfulness that she had come home to us. She does not know how much she is loved; how much trouble we went through to bring her home; how we choose her and paid the price for her; how we continue to love her, provide for her and look out for her best interest.

I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. –Jeremiah 31:3

I dried her off and put medicine on her wound.

He anoints my head with oil. — Psalm 23:5

I did not even try to explain the dangers of the outside world to Maisie. It would not have done any good. She thinks like a dog and acts like a dog because she is a dog.

Surely I was sinful at birth . . . –Psalm 51:5

I could not make her understand that the limitations we have imposed on her are for her good, to keep her healthy and to protect her, to give her a long, happy life with people who love her and want good things for her.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. — Isiah 55:8

Maisie is on house arrest for now, and she wears a restraining collar when we walk outside. It’s not meant to hurt her, only to keep her in my control. This discipline is for her good.

It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn your decrees. — Psalm 119:71

She is a little subdued today, and perhaps a little worn from her heyday of perceived freedom. What she thought was pure bliss would have ended badly had it not been for the persistence of people who cared about her. She has to remain within our boundaries, not because we are being mean, but because we love her.


Now remain in my love. John 15:9b

Maisie once was lost, but now she is found. And so was I.

Little girl

Last summer when Little Dog died, I was not sure we would get another.

But come Christmas, I was searching the site for the dog who was looking for us.  We had taken in puppies before but this time we wanted to rescue.

In February, I thought we might have found the one.  She was the dog with the floppy ear and the hair that stuck out from her face.

Her picture captured our hearts.  She had been given the name Yatzee, after the game.

We completed the online adoption application and waited.  The rescue organization responded and made arrangements for us to meet her.

Sweet William was already captivated by Yatzee’s picture, while I was trying to remain neutral.  We needed to meet this dog, test the waters, see if she would be a good fit for us.  I tried to convince him to remain impartial as we headed to a neighboring city on a late night drive.

In the parking lot of a shopping center, the kind folks who rescue and care for the strays, the forsaken, and the lost brought out this brown and white scruffy-looking dog, her tail tucked between her legs, obviously nervous and unsure about this chance meeting.  She had already endured a lot in her young life.  It was only natural that she would be apprehensive of new people.

We brought treats in hopes of making friends.  She was reserved but eagerly took the treat from our hands.  I walked her on a leash.  I knelt down and looked into her face.

And Sweet William and I opened our hearts to her.  We offered this once-stray dog a forever home, a family.

While we waited for the adoption to finalize, we searched for girl names for dogs.  Maisie was the one we both agreed on, and it seemed to fit her.

The day came for us to bring her home.  We wondered how this was going to work.  We had never adopted an adult dog before, not one who had to scrounge for herself during her young life.

She was nervous when we brought her in and introduced her to the house.  She stayed quiet for a few days.  But eventually she began to realize she was here to stay.  Maybe she understood in a doggie way that we were not going to hurt her or shove her out or send her packing.

We were her people.


We are still adjusting, Maisie and us.  We are learning her needs and she is learning ours.  She now runs through the house like a dog set free.  She walks down the lane with me like she owns the place.  She eyes the goose and really, really wants to chase him.

She has made friends with the neighbors and their dogs. She has accepted visiting family and visiting dogs and played with the best of them.  She is learning to be obedient as we are learning to teach her.

What I know for sure is that Maisie has brought excitement and activity to the Wright House again.  We laugh at her antics (though not all of them).  She has us outside in the sunshine a lot more.  Someone welcomes us lavishly when we come home again.

Maisie will teach us more lessons about unconditional love, forgiveness, and loyalty.  We will learn more patience, tenderness, and again see how God uses all of nature to show us Himself.

We are her forever family.  And she is our little girl.



If you are interested in giving a pet a forever home,

please consider rescuing an animal that needs you.  

In memory of Little Dog

Our Little Dog died yesterday morning after more than a year of health problems.  It’s been a couple of hard days.

Pets bring so much to our lives; they are certainly gifts God gives to humans.  Our Buddy taught me lessons in his years with us.  I wish I could be as forgiving as him, as loyal and faithful.  I wonder if I will ever learn to love completely like he did or to be content with my own Master the way he was with me.

I will remember him and how he made our lives full.

When he was just a ball of white fluff cupped in my hands and I asked “Can we keep him?”

How puppy training was as much for me as it was for him.

How he chased the grandchildren down the hallway, running the length of the house.  The children jumped on the bed to escape.  And then they did it all over again.

Early morning routines when we were the first ones up and outdoors, the first ones to catch a glimpse of the sunrise.  And the world was quiet.

Bath time, him all lathered up looking like a wet rat and shivering until I dried him and wrapped him in a blanket and we warmed up together.

How his big bark coming from such a small creature made me feel safe when Sweet William had to be gone for the night.

The way he loved road trips, long or short, and just the question “You ready to go?” brightened his eyes and sent him to the back door in anticipation.

That he always like our food more than his own.  And nothing was better than sharing popcorn with Sweet William.

How his tummy had an internal clock that sent him to the dog dish at 5 pm every day.  And if we weren’t paying attention then he would flip the metal bowl over until we understood.

How his eyes rolled up to look up at me when I was dressing for work.  Those eyes asked, “So you’re leaving me again?”

The way he greeted me when I returned and always with such great joy.

How as he grew older, he was ready for bed even before Sweet William and me.  And after snuggling in at the foot of the bed he raised his head to look at us at least once just to be sure we were still there.

When his health failed and allergies developed, how I dressed him in baby pajamas and socks to keep him from scratching.  And he was just the cutest thing.

How he never backed down from a big dog and always went for their ankles.

That he loved us no matter what.  That he forgave us every single time.

Recently I read something on Susie Davis’ blog about living, growing old and dying.  She said,

“If our lives weren’t so exquisite, so beautiful, and if the people in our lives hadn’t mattered so terrifically, then this wouldn’t be so hard.”

Life is exquisite no matter the shape or size it takes.  If our pets were not so exquisite, such gifts from God, if they didn’t teach us unconditional love and so many other attributes, if they didn’t matter so terrifically, then letting them go would not be so hard.

But they are exquisite, and they do matter terrifically.  And it is hard to say good-bye.  And I wonder who will greet me at the door now like I was the best thing since honey on a biscuit?

What would my life have been like without Little Dog?  I cannot say.  I only know that our days have been richer for having loved him and having been loved by him.