She’s had a rough life. I’ve made up her early life because I don’t know the actuality of it. I’m convinced she was loved at one time, a squishy older lady who patiently leash trained her and encouraged her to snuggle and give kisses. A compassionate lady who didn’t mind Lizzie’s heart murmur in the least. 

I imagine she made her pup a big fluffy warm bed in her crate.

I imagine her original owner was named Mildred or Ethel, maybe she was named Rose or Eva May (like the matriarch of our church house) and that she loved my Lizzie. But as it is bound to do, time marched on and Lizzie’s first owner succumbed to the thief we know as death and Lizzie was forced to go somewhere else. 

I imagine Lizzie looked for her beloved owner after death took her away and I imagine Lizzie was sad and maybe she was scared. That makes me sad to think about so I don’t dwell on it too much. 

I reckon Lizzie had some really difficult days then, I don’t know if dogs pray, but if they do I suppose she prayed a lot then. She found herself somewhere she wasn’t wanted; she had her tongue cut out, by what means I am unsure, but I can’t dwell on that too long either. She lived among locusts and that was most certainly not living. Her heart murmur worsened, she longed for death to end her daily suffering, maybe she prayed for that. I don’t know. 

One day Lizzie was taken to a vet where her wish fulfillment would await at the hands of a “man who threw them money and the dog.” 

But a sympathetic veterinarian saw something in her cataract filled eyes that contradicted the requested euthanasia. So that wise vet took the money and the dog from the insistent person and in an instant, that decision would change a life… or two.

Lizzie was given the once over and she was found in decent health, all things considered. She was old and had the myriad of health issues mentioned, but she was spry and a docile little doxie. Lizzie made her way to me by way of my Mama. I was supposed to “foster” Lizzie, but history should’ve dictated to my mama that when I foster I’m very permanence-minded. Lizzie became Lizzie Lessenberry Martin and she is my dog.

Now she tells me with her actions how grateful she is that she has found a new life. We laugh sometimes and say Lizzie thinks that Heaven is pretty alright, but it’s a lot louder than she thought it’d be when she prayed for it so long ago. We have also determined she thinks the angels are more clothed than art depicts, although they are still chubby. 

Nowadays she is spry as she once was. She enjoys sitting by the window and snuggling with her new mama, and although she can’t kiss anymore she does try. She is resilient, and even the hard-headed rarely in agreement Martins agree on that. 

Several weeks ago she had a toe issue, she adapted and would walk on 3 legs but I watched her over time begin to decline. I bandaged her foot and took her to the vet but she worsened. I could feel her heart murmur become worse, and I knew it was the stress of her bad foot. I began to pray myself. I asked the King to heal her foot. I don’t rightly know if He is in the vet business too, but I do know His word says he saves Man and Beast (Psalm 36:6) so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

Remarkably, resilience reigned and she began to improve some, eventually making a full recovery, adding no toenail to her list of maladies. She is walking on all fours and her appetite has picked up and she’s back to being a lap dog again. One cool December morning as we took in an episode of Perry Mason (we like the overly dramatic music and Della Street – or maybe her first Mama enjoyed it also and it strikes a familiar chord with Lizzie.) As we were watching, well I was watching the TV, she was looking out the window. I thought how carefree she looked. How content and blissfully happy that she’s found life after living a life wishing for death, and I was overcome with gratitude for the One who is Life and has the power to replenish what the Locusts have stolen (Joel 2:25) and give hope to the hopeless. 

“Then I will make up to you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the creeping locust, the stripping locust and the gnawing locust, My great army which I sent among you. You will have plenty to eat and be satisfied and praise the name of the Lord your God, Who has dealt wondrously with you; then My people will never be put to shame. Thus you will know that I am in the midst of Israel, And that I am the Lord your God, And there is no other; And My people will never be put to shame.” Joel 2:25-27

What does it take to be a blessing?

How beautiful it is to be blessed. We can receive a blessing from the most unexpected places.

A very dear friend of mine has recently gone to be with the Lord. His wife, Sandra, is one of my dearest friends. Vernon had a stroke several years ago and his speech was affected. Sometimes he could be understood and sometimes I could not understand anything he said. Vernon loved to tell stories. He was a big talker and always had a story to tell. I loved to just listen to him talk so when the stroke took away most of his speech, it was difficult. Many times he would talk and no words could be understood.

One of the last times I saw him before he died will always be a special memory for me. I took his favorite soup, Panera’s broccoli and cheddar soup, for Vernon and Sandra to have for lunch. Sandra put the meal out on the table and helped Vernon get to his chair. As she sat down, he looked at her and said, “Blessing.” That word was so clear. Sandra began to pray and ask God to bless their food. Then Vernon prayed. The prayer went straight from his heart to the ears of the Lord. He prayed passionately and joyfully. Even though I did not understand any of the words he prayed, I know that God did. The God who created Vernon heard and understood each and every syllable. The God who loved Vernon before he was even born, understood the prayer of his heart and his thankfulness for the food.

The God who knew the number of Vernon’s days accepted Vernon into heaven a few short weeks later. How beautiful that greeting must have been. Vernon was completely healed. He was able to worship his Lord and Savior not only with his heart but with his words. He heard Matthew 25:23, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” 

I will never forget hearing this blessing. I will always be blessed by a blessing heard only by God. Thank you Lord for Vernon. 

Making cookies has always been fun for me. My Mother and I baked many different kinds of cookies. She never needed a reason to bake cookies. I now enjoy making cookies with my granddaughters. They do not want the kind of cookies that have premade dough. They want to actually “make” the cookies. It is amazing how big of a mess two little girls can make while making cookies but that is part of the fun.

Recently, we were making cookies, and I was trying to read the recipe off of the chocolate chip bag. The print has been getting smaller and smaller on those bags. I was trying to read how much sugar was supposed to go in the recipe. The fraction was printed so small that I couldn’t read it. I knew my choices would be ¼, ½, or ¾ but I just could not see enough of a number to figure out what it was. I took my glasses off and still couldn’t read it. Then, I put my glasses back on and tried to adjust my glasses through all the progressions that my glasses have. I finally found a tiny area of my lens that could read the fraction. The recipe called for ¾ of a cup of sugar. Note to self: buy a magnifying glass for the kitchen. I was reminded of the first time my mother had to ask me to read a recipe for her. I thought it was funny and started laughing. She told me to stop laughing and tell her what the recipe was. I know my Mother would have gotten a big laugh from me struggling to figure out how much of the sugar I needed.

What is an area of your life that you cannot see clearly? Do you need spiritual glasses to help you to see?

John 14:6 (ESV) Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

If you need clarity in your life, look to Jesus. He is the way. Even if you cannot see clearly, look to Jesus and your vision will clear for him to help you to see the way he has prepared for you. 

It’s gotta be my overactive imagination that gets me where it does sometimes. One shining example is when I was five years old, it was late summer, and I was starting Kindergarten that fall. I was outside swinging on my swing set and playing with my dog Suzy Q. She was to be my trusty steed and I was to jump out of my swing onto her back whereupon we would ride off into the sunset, carefully avoiding Mama who was cutting the grass in the backyard. I had outlined the plan to Suzy just as I had seen it played out on a black and white Western television show. I had explained in great detail the trajectory of my five-year-old body arcing and coming to rest upon her back; I had taken great care with explaining at what point my trusty steed was to ride away. Suzy was half a saint Bernard and half a basset hound dog. She was low and slow, perhaps riding straight, tall, and briskly off into the sunset was not to befall us, but ride we would. As I pumped my legs and gained altitude, ready to exit my swing onto Suzy’s back, tensions climbed. I closed my eyes and leapt from my swing. My trusty steed, low and slow indeed, stupid…no.

Suzy saw me, gravity pulling me to the ground like opposite poles on a set of magnets, and she moved. I hit the ground squarely on my right arm. I cracked my wrist just before school began, and as I am right hand dominant, Kindergarten proved to be a difficult, cumbersome, and itchy task. That plaster of Paris cast weighed more than half my scrawny body weight, and I felt like I leaned to the right all of that fall. It was my overactive imagination and expectations that got me there. I see it now. In hindsight.

So it should come as no surprise to me or anyone else when I heard this verse,

Matthew 7:6 “Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you.”

that I imagined a pretty pink pig wearing a pearl necklace. I imagined that the King was saying, you can’t pretty up a pig… it’s still a pig, albeit one wearing an expensive accessory, a pig nonetheless. 

For years that has been my mental picture, my imaginative interpretation of that scripture and for years, much to my dismay, perhaps I have been wrong. 

I read the verse again, lined the words up in my brain, and realized that the King was speaking plainly, I had just not seen it. Pigs are notorious for being… well pigs. They eat a mess of slop without regards to their origins. They are dirty and love to roll in the mud, and while pigs serve some purpose, they are not known for their genteel disposition. To be called “a pig” is not a complement. 

Pearls can not be eaten, not by pigs anyway, and despite the value of a pearl, a pig has no way of understanding that a single pearl could purchase him scrumptious slop for a lifetime. A pig doesn’t pause long enough in his gustation to ponder and examine such things. If you give a pig a pearl he will turn and attack you. Throwing your pearls before swine has nothing at all to do with a pretty pink pig in a pearl necklace. 

The reality is pigs were not domestic in Israel, and if you threw them pearls, something not edible, they’d turn around and attack you for it. Be discerning to whom you toss your pearls, and trust Jesus to give you the wisdom to do so.