Maybe because words mean so much to me, silence means all the more. And maybe that is one reason animals mean so much to me—because they speak without words. In some ways, that makes them seem more trustworthy, and maybe, too, it means we listen more closely.
This dog fell asleep on the kitchen floor this morning while I was eating breakfast. He usually follows me from room to room, and I didn’t realize he hadn’t until I returned to the kitchen later and heard his breath, soft and rhythmic. My heart felt a twinge.
People often comment on how young he looks and seems, and they are right. But some moments reveal the underlying reality: he is twelve-and-a-half, and he is slowing down. Continue reading “Brave Heart”
I hated to walk on these leaves this morning—the leaves that my heart was thrilled to see bud last April, now turned their autumn colors and crushed beneath my feet. 
What if we could trust that grace would always meet us, and that love was the road beneath us? How differently would we move through our days if that understanding permeated our hearts? Is it possible to live anchored to that truth? 