By Velma Darbo Stevens
It seems as if it is taking God a long, long time to teach me not to make my prayers so specific that he cannot answer them the best way, not until I am willing to put the whole situation in his hands.
He taught me a very valuable lesson - and I hope a long-lasting one - during the period when I was praying for a dog. I had lost a dear black Lab mix very suddenly in the fall of 2005. I had not been without a dog for more than a few weeks since I moved here in 1967; so I was really missing my canine companion.
I knew what I wanted: another black Lab who needed a home. But I wanted one about whose background I knew a little: perhaps a dog whose owner had to give it up for some reason. I prayed very specifically for such a dog. I asked my vet to look out for a dog. I asked my friends to pray and to help me look.
Several of them told me they thought it was time I got a smaller dog. Since my stroke in 1999 I had not been able to walk a dog properly. They thought I would be better off with a little dog. But I resisted, because I was afraid a small dog might walk in front of me and trip me or mix me up with the walker. So I continued to pray for what I knew was the right dog for me.
But the months passed, and nothing happened. Finally, when it had been seven months, I went back to the Lord. "All right, Lord," I said, "I'm not getting anywhere the way I'm praying. You send the dog that is right for me!"
Another couple of months went by. Late in July I received a call from a strange woman. She said to me, "My husband knows your next door neighbor. He was telling your neighbor that we are keeping a small dog that belonged to my mother before she died, and we are trying to find a home for it. Your neighbor said to my husband, 'I know someone who needs a dog.' He gave us your name and number, and so I'm calling you."
She described the dog to me: a Pomeranian-Spitz female mix, about fifteen pounds, three years old, very gentle and well-trained.
I said, "Bring her over and let me see how we get along together."
The next day they brought her to me. The minute I saw her - a sweet-faced, white-and-beige dog with a plumey, curled tail - I fell in love with her. I talked briefly with the couple and took the supplies they had brought for her. Her name is Mitzy, and it seemed appropriate for such a cute dog.
When the people left, I looked for Mitzy, but she was nowhere around. I hunted all through the house for her, even under the furniture, but she was nowhere. Finally I went to my bedroom in the back. There in the middle of my king-size bed lay Mitzy, totally at home. She obviously felt as good about being with me as I did about being with her.
She was as gentle and well-trained as the woman had told me. We had a couple of years of good times in my home. But then I decided to move into an assisted living facility. I looked for a place that would take pets, and I chose Mirabella. Of course, only small pets are allowed, and I would not have been able to take a dog larger than Mitzy. So God knew what he was doing when he sent me a small dog. Also, her social skills are extremely well cultivated. She loves meeting people in the halls or in the public areas. Everyone wants to pet her, and she revels in the attention.
A great lesson I learned through this prayer experience: Don't make your prayers too specific. Make room for God's wisdom as well as his power to work. He loves us and will give us what we want and need if we trust him.
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