Tag Archives: faith

Christ in Her Eyes

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It’s said that critters have no souls – much less huge brain power. And, in my mind, that’s likely true. However, God has put them on this earth and in our lives for a reason. Occasionally, they serve a much larger purpose than one might expect.

Suzi grooved on greeting me immediately when I walk into the door. That particular day was no different…with one exception. She moved up toward me as I moved down toward her. (Dachshunds are pretty short, you know.) For lack of a better word, I “scrunched” her beautiful black and tan face and head between my hands (giving her lots of extra wrinkles) as she sniffed my face thoroughly. Our eyes met and I fell into their deep brown.

“I love you. I’ll defend you. I love you. I’d die for you. I love you. Walk with me. Talk to me. Touch me. I love you more than you can know. Spend time with me. I depend on you. You depend on me. I love you. I died for you…” The entire thing was pretty overwhelming!

Then it dawned on me that, in that split second, Christ had asked our sweet, loving pup to serve as His vessel…a medium of sorts. He had something to say and chose her through whom to speak.

The words had filled my head so quickly that I was stunned. Why those particular words and why then? Questions remain unanswered — for my own brain is far too small. But there was a purpose. There always is.

Now I’m prodded to ask a question. When God looks into my eyes…and my heart…what does He see? I think that a prayer that I said quite awhile back still applies: “Father, may the me that I am better reflect the You that You have always been. Amen.”

For the sake of some interaction, let me pose a question to you. (Yes…YOU!) What does God see when He looks into your eyes? Or, what do you want Him to see? Answer in the form of a comment. There’s no need to be shy for, after all, we do share the same Father. I look forward to your response.

That’s a very personal question so, an answer isn’t needed unless you feel comfortable. Instead, feel free to simply respond with a comment on what you think about what I’ve shared here. This was written before her passing before me and I’ve made slight changes here and there.

“Mom’s Room”

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Display Table in Current Spot

It’s only fair to admit that it’s never been Mom’s Room at all. Regardless of what you call it, though, as I sit in my “office” (originally a formal dining room), from my chair, I look through the foyer and into what used to be the formal living room of the home that Guy T and I bought two decades ago. (Wow! Though I find it hard to imagine, that makes me pretty old.)

So, if it’s never actually been Mom’s room, why-in-the-heck…?

It’s sort of a long story so, I’ll likely be forced to tell it in pieces. The truth of the matter is that my original intent this morning had been to talk about…dusting, of all things! Well, not really dusting-but that’s where my thoughts headed before they were diverted?

I’ll work backwards, since memories are, in a sense, life lived backwards. Just before she left this earth, Mom had asked me to promise that, when she died and we got official “custody” of their home, we’d sell it and use the money for a new home. Being an obedient daughter, that’s exactly what we did.

When we found our lovely new nest, it seemed only fair to name one of the rooms “Mom’s Room”. So, the formal living room in the front of the house, was filled with some of her favorite furniture and “Mom’s Room” was born!

Picture the huge, long, blue, three-cushion couch against the far wall accented by an antique glass display table in the corner. Then, throw a lamp and sundry artistic items in the mix. Her curvaceous, wooden free-formed coffee table served as a lovely footstool. In the corner diagonal to the couch was a stately, modernish lime green chair which she’d reupholstered a couple of times. Tossed throughout the room were pillows and afghans in combinations of bright blue and lime green. Those were, you must understand, her favorite colors.

In 2002, when I received the diagnosis of ductile carcinoma, it was in Mom’s room that I suddenly found myself on my knees. No, I wasn’t talking to her but, it was much like kneeling beside her and resting my head on her lap…as I talked to God about my fears, inadequacy to carry the load, and to seek His guidance. In a sense, both were there with me. But that’s another story…for yet another time.