Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued Read Online Free PDF

she was in turmoil. She had never worked to cultivate genuine faith; she had never harvested genuine peace. She had come to the private conclusion that if God had plans to do something good in her life, he would have to prove himself to her. He would have to show her in a tangible way, according to her expectations, that he was real.

    Driving up to a fork in the road, Laurie suddenly had to choose which direction would lead her back home.
What am I doing? Trying to make myself feel better by rescuing a dog? Even if it’s the right thing to do, am I still doing it for the wrong reasons?
Laurieacknowledged her attempt to fill the void in her heart with an unselfish act of benevolence. So far she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt worse.
    She had pushed her blackness so far down into the caverns of her soul that she had come close to convincing herself that her heart was healing, that everything was going to be all right. When she looked at the ragged and rejected dog, instinctively she knew that this creature was a four-legged reflection of herself.
    Instinctively she knew that this creature was a four-legged reflection of herself
    Laurie still felt unsettled about the decision she had just made. She didn’t question whether she had done the right thing. Her only real question was whether she was the right one to do it. In an unconscious gesture of reassurance, Laurie reached across the seat and placed a gentle hand on the dog’s back. The dog shifted her weight, trying to move away. Laurie kept her hand quietly in place until the dog lay still. Without a word, she ran her hand over the smooth top of her dog’s head, attempting to ease away both of their fears.
    “Sweet dog, you can relax now. You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be all right. I’m going to take care ofyou. I don’t know how, but I’m willing to try. Rest easy. We’re going to work this out together.”

    It was nearly dark when Laurie and I rounded the bottom of the ranch driveway. Old-fashioned lanterns hung in the twilight, beckoning us to follow them up the hill toward the promise of a warm fire. The snow had stopped falling, furnishing a sanctuary of silence. Reflecting on all she had said, Laurie snuggled her hands into her coat pockets and confided, “In that moment, my life was about to be permanently changed—by a dog.”

A nother hot and dusty day was coming to a close on the ranch. After receiving hugs and words of encouragement, a giggling stream of kids trickled down the long driveway. The staff and I combed over the ranch, each seeking to rake, scoop, or sweep the areas we were responsible for.
    I coiled the water hose on our grassy hill and picked up crushed paper cups. The afternoon breeze had hidden them in the rabbitbrush that flanks the green knoll. Only moments earlier, the now mangled cups had been the weapons used in a spontaneous, squealing water fight. The ambush had been waged between some of my staff and a group of mischievous and now soaking wet kids. It had been such a good day. In fact, any afternoon spent in the company of children is a good day.
    I corralled a herd of mashed cups in my arms and made my way down the hill toward a garbage can by the barn door. When I released the cups over the can, a few renegades bounced off the rim and dropped to the ground.
    Any afternoon spent in the company of children is a good day
    Laurie, having just swept the boardwalk, came toward me with broom in hand. “Aha!” She laughed and pinned the stray cups to the ground before the breeze could scatter them again.
    “Thanks, Lou.” I picked up the last rebels and tossed them in the trash.
    She made use of her fake western drawl. “Glad I could help ya, ma’am.”
    We laughed and talked about some of the highlights of the day, and then I saw Laurie’s expression turn thoughtful.
    “Do you have a minute?” she asked.
    Over the years, I’ve observed from my staff, friends, and family that this statement is