“I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will meditate on all your works and consider your mighty deeds.” Psalm 77:11-12
Time is passing and there is this one thing I’ve been praying for that continues to appear unchanged. One day as the voice of hopelessness screamed of its impossibility, I cried out to the Lord, “I know the promises of your Word. I know you hear my prayers, I see your work in . . . but what about this one? My eyes were drawn to Adi lying at my feet and the word “remember” echoed through my mind.
I’m the dog lover in my marriage. Over the years we had opportunities to get a dog, but I refused. A dog needed more than an apartment space and owners who both worked full-time and then some. When we finally had a house with land, my life was occupied by a toddler and baby. Adding a puppy to the mix just didn’t seem wise.
By the time the girls reached three and five, the question, “When will we get a dog?” became a frequent flyer. My husband and I laid out one condition that needed to be met before we would begin looking- no one in the household could still be sucking their fingers. Within the year they had met the condition.
My husband jumped into the search. I was more reserved having small children and aging parents to consider. I knew what I wanted, what I didn’t want, and that the weight of the decision was on me. My list started with calm and gentle. The longer we looked, the longer my list grew- quiet, female, able to travel, easy to train, med/large, reputable background. . . With each potential dog, I felt apprehension not peace. As more time passed, the prospects of finding the right dog seemed impossible. One day I found myself praying, “Lord I give up. You know my heart’s desire. If we’re to have a dog please bring the one you’d choose to our doorstep.”
Another year passed. My prayer remained the same and now the girls were praying for the “doorstep dog” too. During that time, my mother became critically ill. I was frequently traveling the four hours home and for long periods of time. Any thoughts of a dog flew out the window. At this point, the only possible way one would be joining our family was if God literally brought it to our doorstep. And then He did.
My family had much to rejoice over that Christmas Eve including my mother’s restored health. The table was abuzz with news of the black lab puppy my brother and his family would be bringing home in January. Pointedly, my sister-in-law looked down the table at me and said, “There is still one puppy left.” As the meal wore on, I slipped into the seat next to my brother. He showed me pictures and told me all he knew about the puppies, their parents, even their older brother and sister who belonged to his buddies. I was intrigued and quite aware of the excitement and peace that had begun to slip over my heart.
My brother arranged for my husband and I to meet the puppies’ older sister- Diamond. Simply put, she was perfect in every way. That afternoon I got up enough courage to call the breeder. Yes, one puppy, a female was still available. Patiently, he answered my every question, and an hour later I hung up the phone knowing this pup was the one.
Two weeks later, the girls heard a truck pull into our driveway and the sound of voices. When they peered out the window, they saw to their surprise and delight two black lab puppies scampering across our driveway and into the yard. Our puppy had arrived at our doorstep with her sister Nova, my brother’s puppy, in tow.
Adi has met every quality on my list and then some. She’s the dog of my dreams. She is my daily reminder of God’s faithfulness. That when I surrender the impossible to Him, He answers. That His timing is perfect, and His answer is far greater than I could ever imagine. Seeing her reminds me of all the other impossible prayers the Lord has answered throughout my life. That walk down memory lane bolsters my faith and rekindles my excitement about how God will answer that impossible prayer.
© 2019, Lessons from a Lab, Beth Alisan. All Rights Reserved.