The Struggle to Be Known

God can come into your life in unique ways. One winter day over a decade ago, one of his angels turned up at my doorstep. It was a freezing, sleeting, snowing day. In Arkansas, you only get a handful of those each year. This was one.

As I rushed from the house, on my way to some important place that I don’t even remember now, I saw the little fellow shivering on the cold grey concrete of the carport. His black eyes looked up at me and his little frozen feet were solid chucks of ice from walking in the sleet and snow. Snow and ice were frozen between each of his little toes.

It really wasn’t unusual for stray dogs to come to our doorstep in those days. There were numerous little communities and subdivisions in that neck of the woods and everyone had pets. These pets wandered up and down the busy highway and sadly many of them were killed by the traffic. But this little dachshund had obviously been out on his own for some time. He was very thin and scruffy but seemed otherwise healthy and obviously had some serious street cred.

“What are you doing out here little guy? I asked. He managed to wag his tail just a tiny bit. Or maybe he was just shivering. I don’t know which.

I made him a nice fluffy bed in a cardboard box in the corner of the open garage. While I was at work that day, mom fed him some warm milk and other goodies. Over the next few weeks he would circle that house, with his short little legs, so many times that he blazed his own little trail.

I asked neighbor after neighbor if they knew where the dog belonged or who might have lost him. No one seemed to know where or how he came into the neighborhood but almost everyone had seen him as he made his rounds looking for a home. Apparently he lived under a neighbor’s trailer house for several weeks existing off scraps, bugs and nuts. Even after he was well fed, he loved to crack open acorns and swallow the tender insides. He always managed to spit out the shells.

As a kid, we never had a dog in the house. I had lots of outdoor dogs, but never one that came inside. So we had no plan that this dog would be different. But he obviously had other ideas. He slowly because more and more comfortable sleeping under the house and in his little box. And was determined he was going to stay.

Once we decided we would keep the little fellow, my mother, who has never named anything that I know of, came up with the name “Chip” for the little dachshund. I agreed to the name without hesitation, since this was the first time she ever, even remotely, seemed interested in naming anything. My dad did all the naming in the family, including us kids. Mom seemed proud that she had thought of the name, and she was eager to tell everyone about it.

Mom will tell you quickly, she’s not the creative type. And for supporting evidence, she will relate the story of the High School teacher who constantly gave writing assignments to her class. “She made us write all the time and I just wasn’t good at it,” Mom says.

This teacher had been so hyper-critical of every word on her page that Mom became “creatively blocked” and has remained so throughout her adulthood. I can attest to the fact that she has never been interested in anything creative except cooking. Whenever I’ve broached the subject, she almost always brings up this particular teacher.

“Careful the words you say, children will listen.”

A few months after Chip appeared on our doorstep, I announced out of the blue, “I’m gonna let Chip in the house and see what happens.” He came bursting in and headed straight for the den and with one giant leap he jumped into the most comfortable chair in the house, wagging his tail all the while. I don’t think he ever left.

Chip was another member of the family and participated in everything including Thanksgiving and Christmas. I always made an annual Christmas video with him opening his gift bag. It was a perennial favorite. I never knew how smart dogs were, until I had an indoor dog. Somehow, having him inside, helped me see just how much they really understand. He learned dozens of words and new exactly what each one meant.

We had Chip for a good nine years before he “crossed the rainbow bridge” as people say these days. We came home one evening and he greeted us at the door as always, but I could tell immediately that something was wrong with him. His breathing was labored and he was barely able to walk. He died early that next morning despite heroic efforts to save him.

I’ve never seen my mother more emotional over the death of any “person” than she was over Chip’s passing. I would have never dreamed that she (or I for that matter) would form such an attachment to a dog. During my long hours at work he was a great companion for Mom and he filled her days with his own brand of excitement. He was her little angel without a doubt.

That’s often how God intervenes in our lives and makes his presence known. His unseen hand is in the middle of each passing day. We often fail to recognize him as he stands clearly before us. When he comes to us, like Chip did on that freezing day, we have a choice. Do we allow him in, or do we turn away?

I’m glad we invited Chip in! What blessings we all received.

“God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants His footsteps in the sea and rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines of never failing skill, He treasures up His bright designs and works His sov’reign will.“