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“Guide me in Your truth and teach me…”
Psalm 25:5 (NIV)

Has God ever used a dog to teach you something very important?

My husband, Steve, retired in the summer of 2013. For his retirement gift, I gave him a beautiful Belgian Malinois puppy. He named her Zeeva after a character on the television show NCIS.

Train up a dog in the way they should go….

Not driven by treats or toys, there seemed to be no good way to train Zeeva. The Belgian Malinois is high energy, loyal and protective to a fault. They pick their ‘person’ and Zeeva’s person was Steve.

It was a love/hate relationship between me and Zeeva.

Steve was a night owl. Since I still worked, I headed to bed early. Every night I would wake up to Zeeva barking and Steve telling her, “Good girl, go get in your bed.”

Irritated, I asked, “Why does she do that every single night?”

“It’s just what we do,” he told me.

And then one day, Zeeva and I shared our grief….

It was a hot July morning. In chaos and confusion, I shoved Zeeva back as I called 911 and watched our boys perform CPR on Steve. She kept pushing trying to get to him until someone put her in her crate. I never thought a thing about Zeeva the rest of that day or in the days to come.

And then everyone went home. I sat for hours in the quiet before I found the energy to drag myself to bed.

“When I thought how to understand this, it was too painful for me…Until I went into the sanctuary of God…”
Psalm 73:16-17a

In the dark, as I lay on Steve’s side of our bed, I felt the weight of Zeeva’s face settle near mine at the same time I heard her whine. Then she barked. And the tears came. Together we remembered the routine. “It’s just what we do.”

Whispering, I told Zeeva, “You’re a good girl. Go get in your bed.” And she did.

You might think it strange to be talking about grief and a dog…or maybe you understand it completely.

I have learned a lot from Zeeva. She let me into her heart one day before Steve passed away. Hurt, she came limping to Steve. You never wanted to tell Steve you were hurt and have him look at it. I think he measured the extent of the injury in your response to how hard he squeezed the wounded area.

As he did the same to Zeeva, she yelped and bared her teeth at him, growling. Instantly apologetic, she seemed shocked that she would ever feel that toward her person. He left her alone.

Sitting down next to her, I said in that voice we use with our pets, “Oh Zeeva, are you hurt? I’m so sorry your foot is hurt.” In that next moment, Zeeva lifted her wounded paw and put it in my lap. She gave me her trust.

Trust…

This is a hard season for us, isn’t it? A pandemic still not under control. Wear a mask! Don’t wear a mask! A world in crisis causes our own hearts to become unsettled.

As I come up on the fourth anniversary of Steve’s homegoing, our wedding anniversary, his birthday…my emotions are such a roller coaster ride.

As I sat down yesterday, Zeeva walked over, sat down and put that beautiful paw on my knee.

It was as if the Lord whispered, “Take your wounded heart and put it in My hand. Let me take the hurt and confusion. Trust me.”

“Steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the Lord.”
Psalm 32:10b (ESV)

Heavenly Father, thank You for the reminder we can trust You. We pray for this broken world. Help us to share the HOPE that can only be found in You. Amen