First, this is not a post about finding my sweet dog, Heidi.  God did do that, but He didn’t have to do so.  What He did have to do was put me on the steps of my deck crying out to Him in sobs that were not human.  Heaving the words, “I just cannot take one more thing. I don’t know what You want me to learn through all of this Lord, but I know I am done, through, empty.”  And now, on this beautiful sunny Sabbath morning, I do know.  I know that being done is exactly what He wanted.

In span of 17 days, I had powered through so many decisions, feelings, changes. I had to make the decision to move my parents to a full-time nursing care facility.  I knew they would get the care and attention they needed, but neither wanted to go and let me know exactly how they felt.  During the four days waiting to move them, mom became too weak to walk and lost her appetite. Dad could no longer get around without a walker and was up at all hours wandering the house and taking meds.  I was their constant care for 24 hours for 5 days.  I was exhausted, but I could do this.

During this time, I missed one of Jack’s senior football games.  I know this sounds trite to many of you, and even me now as I type it.  But I had not missed a game.  Ever. I was angry at cancer for making me miss this and how it affected my son our life together.  Football was not just a game to us, it had changed my son’s life years earlier and me not being involved in every moment was more than I could bear.  But I could do this.

We moved my parents in the facility on Monday, October 26 with peace and grace that only came from God.  Their first week there, my mom continued to decline in physical health, but was relieved to have dad in a place where he would thrive.  And he did.  So, I could do this.

Friday, October 27, Jack has his senior night.  The last game he would play on his home football field.  It was joyful and sad and big and a win.  So many emotions…My mother-in-law was here to share it.   It was a whirlwind and I was lost in it all weekend.  But I could do this.

The next Monday, my mom died.  She went to sleep and did not wake up.  She never suffered debilitating pain and died peacefully. Again, God is near.  He answered my prayer to have her never suffer.  So, I could do this.

Funeral was planned. People were notified. Flowers arrived.  Hugs, prayers, and kindness surrounded me.  Mom is in a better place.  I can do this.

That week, Jack was struck ill with a severe sinus and ear infection.  He tried to shake it off all week, but could not.   As a result, he would not play in his final senior football game.  We would of course still go (it was an away game), put up the helmet, cheer for our other boys, and be strong.  We did not get our dinner on time.  Had to eat in the truck under the bleachers in a foreign town while we watched my son’s teammates walk by without him. But, i can do this.

The next day, yesterday, was our last Senior Preview Day event on our campus for the semester.  It was a large group and going to be a huge day.  I have a staff of the most talented people on earth that are creative and hardworking.  I am exhausted, but I can do this.

The day goes by without a hitch, even with accolades. I drive home anticipating a relaxing afternoon on the couch watching college football with my husband, son and our furry babies.

I pull up in the driveway and see Tony in the yard.  I see Schatzi, but not Heidi.  He says she has ran off in the woods, which she sometimes does, but she had not come back.  I cry out her name, “Heidi come!  Come to mama!”  She is nowhere to be found.  I must explain.  She  is my dog.  She follows me around the house.  She sleeps with me.  She has been my constant companion, particularly the late nights and early mornings.  As I pray, as I read my Bible, Heidi is there.  My furry, white reminder that the God is with me, loving me unconditionally, always there.  I love her.

The feeling of all I had lost the last few weeks came flooding over me.  I collapsed on the stairs of the deck in the back yard and sobbed uncontrollably. I cried out to God.  “I cannot take another thing.  I just can’t.” I. Could. Not. Do. It. Anymore.

I went through the motions.  Posted to facebook.  Made flyers and took them to the neighbors.  Friends were driving around looking, praying, sharing on facebook.  Tony and Jack scoured the neighborhood on their bikes.  All to no avail.  No Heidi.

Tony and I prayed.  I realized she was gone.  Tony looked at me and said, “She never really was ours anyway.  God gave her to us. She is His.”  I stood up and said, “I am not going to do this.  God loves me, us and Heidi.  She and we are His.  If she is gone, it is because He wanted her for something else.  There is someone else who needs her more than we do.”

I prayed God would bless her and whoever found her.  That she would be warm, fed and loved.

I then turned to the cards from the flowers at my mom’s funeral and began making my list of thank you notes to write.  As I was making the list, I wrote the name of Glenn and Holly Elarbee.  He is a football coach at A-State and she is his wife who works with me on game days with recruits.  They are both phenomenal folks, with hearts bigger than his O-line. As I was writing their name, I get a call from Yvonne Foster, who also works in football.  Again, another sweetheart of a gem who is always smiling.  She said, “Tammy I think I have your dog.”  I did not realize Yvonne even lived near me.  But Heidi had wandered to her yard.  They had taken her in, gave her water and food.  Yvonne’s neighbor told her about the facebook post and that a “Tammy Fowler” had lost a small white dog.  Maybe it was the one she found.  Yvonne said, “I know Tammy Fowler.”  So, she called.

The police had come and gotten Heidi and taken her to animal control.  It is now about 9:00 at night.  I reached out to a dear friend who is a police officer and she was able to get the officer to meet us at the facility and get Heidi home that night.  The Officer who came was someone I knew from high school and knew my dad.  He was kind, generous and servant-hearted.

We had our Heidi back.  A miracle in every sense of the word.  And her return was too.

And what a way to end a story.  Dog back everyone is well.  But that is not the miracle.  As a podcast told me this morning (thank you Heather).  Miracles don’t always look the way we want them to look.

The miracle is that Tammy Fowler cannot do it.  I cannot do anything. And the phenomenal, mind blowing truth is that I was/am never supposed to do it.  Tony said he thinks Heidi was gone to help us grieve.  He meant to get the fear, anger, sadness out physically.  I agree.  I do.  But more than that, I had to let go.  I had to get to a point where I just could not do it any longer.

Yes, God answered prayers yesterday.  He brought back a sweet puppy who means a lot to me.  But He also taught me much, that I write here so I hope to not forget:

• Nothing we have in our lives are ours.  We have not earned it, worked for it or deserve it.  All, and I mean ALL is from God, a gift, a treasure.  People, pets, jobs, talents, churches, friends.  They are His, we are to praise Him for them and then give them right back, in faith knowing He is the best keeper of His own.
• God is always there. Working, showing, listening.  But we must be still and know He is God.  He stopped me on Friday to see a bird’s nest.  A long time symbol to me of His faithfulness.  I snapped a photo and even told someone about my encounter, only hours later to forget God’s provision and slide back into doubt, fear and worry.  I purpose to pray and rest in His hands.
• My relationship with God is mine and others are theirs.  They are different and should be trusted and respected.  He is big enough to be all we need Him to be and not be the same for us all.
• I am an idolmaker.  I worship my son, my husband, my dog, my job, my friends.  My worship takes the form of “being a servant,” but let me call it what it is.  They are important to me and by me “not knowing what I would do without them,” I find myself valuing them more that God intended.  What He intended was for me to be grateful for them, love them and each and every day put them back at His feet in praise and worship of HIM, not them.
• God is big, really big.  I am small, really small.  And I am grateful for both.
• I am free.  God has it all.  I gave up yesterday.

There were precious times with both my son and husband yesterday.  Private things I will not share here.  I will merely say that being broken together is a painful, beautiful thing.

His mercies are new each morning. The sun is here this morning.  Shinning brighter than I can remember.  The sky is clear.  More open and expansive than I can comprehend.  And today, I am not even going to try.