My dog, Tuesday, is a Jesus helper.
Tuesday is a ten year old Welsh Corgi who thinks a talent scout from Animal Planet lurks around every corner. She cocks her head from side to side when we talk to her. She rolls over for belly rubs. She woofs at me if I’m not moving in the direction she thinks I ought to go. Some people call Welsh Corgis hall monitors because they sit at a central location in your home and watch where everyone is going. Tuesday has been known to “herd” me into my office to write.
Tuesday thinks she’s a lap dog but her long body drapes over me more like a seat belt when she climbs into my lap. Her best position is cuddled against me on the couch. There’s nothing better than Corgi cuddles and these delicate Corgi kisses on the tip of my nose or my husband’s ear when Tuesday thinks he needs to be up in the morning.
Once, when a visitor came to our house, Tuesday, asleep on the bed with my husband who was taking a nap, barked to get out. When I opened the bedroom door, to my horror, she bolted toward our visitor and jumped into her lap. What happened next made me think I had a Holy Spirit infused dog. My friend buried her head into Tuesday’s fur and burst into tears. While she continued to weep, Tuesday licked the tears that dripped onto her hands. My friend soon poured out her discouragement and heartache to me.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen the Lord use a dog to put their paw prints on our ministry. We used to own a beautiful yellow Labrador Retriever whom we described as a ninety pound bucket of pure love. He would greet visitors at the door with his wagging tail and his soulful brown eyes that said, “Love me, love me.” People would immediately warm up to Riley. We could see them relax as they entered our home and conversation would flow.
I still treasure the time we hosted the church elders at our home. Fully comfortable with his guests and oblivious to the conversation around him, Riley stretched out on his side in the middle of the room. Soon, one elder, who has a stressful mid-management level position at an area factory, lowered himself to the floor and rested his head on Riley’s ribcage. Riley lay perfectly still, content to serve as the world’s biggest pillow. I think, if we had all left the room, our elder could have fallen asleep. That night, Riley served as a heavenly stress-buster and got extra doggie cookies for his service.
Why should I be surprised that God would use our canine critters as a welcoming committee or Comforters-in-Chief? If God could use a big fish to shelter Jonah, ravens to feed Elijah, and a donkey to talk sense into Balaam, then God can use my dogs to soothe the stress of discouraged and worn out Christians.
I just love how God works!