hope matters

Before she came along, I never felt quite as wanted.

Every step I take is noticed. Every move inspected.

She's always ready to leave her comfort spot to be by my side.

Growing up, I wasn't really a dog person. The dogs that we had lived outside. And though it didn't seem it then, it just seems so cruel now.

We've had our pup for eight months and I can't imagine her not living side-by-side us. Literally, she has become an extension of myself.

Always at my side, she follows my every move. And every day I remain amazed at her interest in me, and my own love for this dog.

Her breath stinks like some creature crawled up in there and died. Literally.

She'll appear to be sleeping, though always has a close eye on me and knows the exact last stretch I make before I'll turn to her and ask if she wants to go for a walk. At the sound of the word she paces around my legs one time. She grunts and whines as if to say yes.

If I reach for my running shoes, she seems to know she'll have to wait until I return to the house from my own exercise.

If I reach for another kind of shoes, she nearly explodes out of her skin with excitement to get outside. 

I leave for work in the morning and she's lying right near the door. Her head barely moves and I hardly ever say goodbye to her, too focused on my own schedule. She doesn't seem to mind, though my groom says she stays by the door all day. Waiting for me. 

At lunch time she lifts her head to say hello, though hardly ever gets up to greet me. She knows I do my thing. But at the end of the day, it's a different story. She stands to greet me and her tail wags incessantly.

It's as if she knows I'm here to stay and all is right with the world. Her family is home. I say Hi to her a little more cheerfully and often bend down and wrap my arms around her. She knows I'll turn to The Boy and promptly start dinner, but her favorite part of the day is when I come home and I know it.

This pup makes me feel wanted. Adored, actually. I'm not sure why she likes me so much. And I often say that out loud.

It feels good to be noticed. Especially to be adored and wanted. 

This pup makes me wonder why I'm worth all her attention. Especially because I'm not quite as interested in her most of the time--often so self focused.

I don't feel good enough to be loved this much.

The Boy comes downstairs in the weekend morning's and she whines a little bit, looking at me and then to him. I'm not sure what she thinks--if she's nervous he'll take all my attention, or if she is just tending to my pup. He always gets several gentle licks from her.

Sometimes The Boy annoys The Pup and I can see it. She glances at me I give her a nod. She tolerates him and never leaves his side or growls at him. They're gentle toward each other. It's a precious sight to see. And often I marvel at their exchanges of love.

I was running one day and got this idea to get a dog. It was a crazy idea and I felt it'd be a miracle if it worked out.

We've had two other dogs before and they had their own set of issues. But I thought that perhaps the third time's a charm and there might be a better fit out there for us.

I believed there was a right time and that the right situation would come along. It was a big, wild dream. And I was willing to consider the possibility.

Not too much later I learned of a breeder who was looking to retire one of her dogs to just the right family. A puppy was unequivocally out of the question for us and an older dog seemed more right for us. It took a few months until the breeder felt comfortable in selecting us. She prayerfully considered the right home for her beloved and didn't rush the process.

Timing is everything. And time is necessary.

We're all in love with this pup, even my groom who grew up with too many dogs and too many not pleasant experiences. She fits in our family, nearly perfectly.

Miracles happen and dreams do come true.

I try to believe this when I listen to the exclamations I hear over this pup, even from my own mouth.

I think of how this pup was created by God and He is love. I wonder, could He really be inside her heart? It's a silly thought and yet somehow she always brings me to Him. To love and acceptance. And how Hope makes a difference.

Daring to believe in possibilities makes things happen. This truth overwhelms me as I consider what else Willingness might bring to our lives.

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discovering Hope in the weekend

Wherever your weekend takes you...

May it be on your feet and exploring *possibilities.*

There's treasure to be found away from the desk or the office of home. 

Weekends are different. And they hold unique opportunities.

Comfy shoes and cleared {just-for-you} paths await your precious feet. 

Enter in and See...

There's Hope to discover in these precious days, my friends.

Join A {Grace} full *life* facebook community. 

a really *crazy* idea

I think it's *funny*.  It'll surely not happen.  Yet, it's something I've always said I wanted to do, and something that won't leave my mind.

It's still funny, though.  Quite a {silly} idea.  I haven't lived all the way to the end of my story yet, and since I decided that I don't need to run a marathon in my life, (even though it is also something I've always said I wanted to do) I think it's crazier still, to be even an inkling of an idea.

Such a {crazy-silly} idea.  

A few have suggested that I *write a book*.  One friend has said I was "born for this."  A family member said I "should think about publishing."  I'm not sure what to think about all of it.  It's {foolish} craziness.  I think, those comments are not meant for me.

It's not as though the two people who said those affirming comments to me don't mean anything to me - they surely do!  Yet, why do I doubt their comment and chuckle them away like some misplaced idea?! Not for me.

No way...


Surely, those comments weren't meant for me.  And yet, two more comments have also somehow stuck inside my noggin, as *crazy* as they sound to me.  Strangers have said that I am "a writer," and that I "write from the heart, and [that I] give gifts of hope and grace and love."  The chick who wrote me that must been mistaken, or perhaps she is just digging deep to be encouraging.  Falsely encouraging.

(For the record, if anything, it's not me who gives those gifts - it's God through me.  And still, I doubt my worth.)

I have no clue how the rest of my story will read.  Yet, for some unexplainable reason I have this incredible excitement bubbling up, almost like a dolphin rising to the surface, giddy about the sunshine she'll see when she gets there, and she bounds up with sheer ecstacy at the joy.  So. Joy. Full.

Another really {crazy} idea of hopefulness has risen up within me recently, and this I can barely even muster the thoughts to share with even my Lord.  It's a child-like joy that for now remains just a sprinkle of hope.  A *glimmer of possibility*.

I picture the middle of an Ocean and its vastness stretching far and wide.  Right there smack dab in the middle there is wonder at how it all connects.  And then I think of *people* and how the world seems so small sometimes, all of us so strangely connected.  So when the Ocean seems so *big* and yet the world seems so *small*, {hope} for the wildest possibilities seems to bubble up with question marks instead of confident exclamation marks.

Holding tight to dreams can keep *hope* alive.

Being aware of how real possibilities can be, and how they just might have a place in your story, keeps *joy* alive.

The awareness that a possibility does not mean a *sure thing*, leads to a risky choice.  Choose hope?

I surely believe that the risk {to choose hope} isn't ever wasted, and the joy is to be lived loudly - exclaimed, even!

So, we'll see where two recent and *colorful* sprinkles of hope will go in my own story.  For now, I am giddy with possibility, and for that I'm incredibly grateful, especially after so many days of doubting that the hope is even worth it.

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What possibilities make you giddy with excitement, even in all their crazy-silliness?  


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Gifts of Gratitude...

#21.  Strength to shovel the driveway when my Groom is too sick to do it himself, and the memory to do it the way he likes.

#22.  How good it feels to say yes to "Huggy Time!" when I know the boy is just delaying shower time, and knowing that he won't always look to me for a comfortable excuse to cuddle!

#23.  The boy's first fish made it two whole days of living in our house - still alive!

#24.  How stretching and breathing deep bring such healing to a worn out and sore body.

#25.  The aroma of brownies baking in the oven.  Heavenly!

#26.  Awareness as my mother is complaining about her own life that her own anxiousness does not need to be placed on me.  I can care, but her worries are her own.  And so I lift her to Jesus, the true Healer.

#27.  A delivery of a dozen roses from the widower next door, as a thank you "for [our] kindness" toward him.

#28.  Seeing the boy and his daddy do their secret handshake, followed by sweet hug, at the door before school.  The sickness of my Groom doesn't keep him down today to see the boy off for his day.

#29.  Hope for {crazy} possibilities.

#30.  Having our family of three together during evening's again after the coach's season concluded.