THE LIGHT OF HIS LOVE

Let me start off by giving you a play-by-play of last Tuesday evening’s events.

6:37 P.M. Finished with a visit and a beauty session with some of my friends, I arrive home. 6:39 P.M. An immediate change into pajamas, because despite the beauty session, who am I really trying to impress?

6:42 P.M. Happily taking on my responsibility of dog watcher, I open the door to release our hounds into the yard. 6:42.5 P.M. While attaching Oakley Ann to her leash, Sadie Grace and Lularoo take it upon themselves to wander freely in the grass.

6:42.7 P.M. A neighboring dog is spotted in the yard, forcing our faithful pups into guard mode. 6:43 P.M. A lone mooch can be seen wondering down the dirt road she calls home, shoeless, in the dark, shouting out odd names at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, neither of the dogs who hold claim to said names can be found.

Alright, now that you’ve received the context clues for the situation, hopefully you will give my actions the grace they do so rightfully deserve.

I’d say I spent about the next five minutes picking my way down the gravel road, though my feet would tell you it was much longer.

Somehow, in answer to my shouted prayers, (or perhaps those of my neighbors who were hiding in their homes from the rogue mooch) Sadie Grace decided my exclamations worthy of her attention. Snagging my fingers through her collar, I turned to drag her home, only to find my angel mother ready and waiting with the truck just a few feet behind me.

With a loving shove I forced Sadie into the backseat, took my own in the passengers, and let my tears flow freely.

Because, as anyone who has been here longer than two seconds knows, Sadie is not the one we need worry about. Lulu is.

My mother and I drove to the end of our street, brief glimpses of Lulu giving us false hope, until we came upon a private drive. A private drive, of course, Lulu had chosen to adopt as her new home.

Too afraid that Sadie Grace would miraculously double her brain capacity from one cell to two, it was determined without even a word of conversation that one must leave the car, and one must stay. The power of a mother and daughter relationship truly is unbelievable.

Seeing as both of us had gone sans shoe in our quick-thinking instincts, and my socks already had a nice layer of dirt to coat them, I opted to continue the quest for Lulu down the starlit drive.

Hoping from the cab, my voice alternating between begging pleas and justice-filled anger, I slowly began to make my way toward the escape-artist basset hound. Known for her speedy flights, one sudden move could send her out into the unknown that lay behind the fence line, where if we were lucky, she would never return from.

Again, my sobbing, audible, somewhat rage-laced prayers were answered, and miraculously, I managed to secure my hold on Lulu without another chase. Not trusting her to walk back beside me, (shocking, I know) I hefted her into my arms, despite the weight she had put on, and prepared to make the trek back to the truck.

I know I tend to exaggerate a bit, but this truly was a trek. My quest had taken me farther up the dirt drive than I’d originally planned to come, and just to add to the already peachy evening, the home behind me began to flicker to life with light. Not wanting to explain to the neighbors I’d not yet met why I was in their driveway, donning socks on my feet, a basset hound in my arms, and tears streaking my cheeks, I began to walk with as much speed as was possible.

Don’t you worry your pretty little head, I of course added some idle threats to Lulu, insults towards the country life we were clearly not prepared to live, a few complaints, lots of whining, and a whole lot more tears to our leisurely stroll.

In the middle of my lecture to the basset hound who was deliberately ignoring me, I heard my mother’s voice call out, “Ellie! Where are you going, honey?”

Looking up from my own negativity, I was shocked to find myself nearly to the fence line, feet away from the driveway that would was go be my guide to the headlights of the truck.

My irritation, my need to voice my injustices to the sky, had distracted me, drawing me away from home and into the desert sands that would surely have some kind of plant life ready to attack me.

Embarrassed as my mother tried to withhold her laughter, a task she did not succeed at, I followed the light of the headlights, the sound of her voice, and the sight of her silhouette to her side. Taking the weight of the basset hound from me, we made our way to safety together, where I lovingly threw the basset hound in the cab and refused to speak to her the rest of the night.

Almost a week later, I can look back on the evening and laugh, relief filling the sound as I think again how blessed we are to have a loving Heavenly Father. With the amount of times we’ve lost Lulu, you’d think He’d call our allotments for that particular prayer filled, but He never does. Lovingly, He always brings her back to us, as He most likely dons a similar, laughter-strained smile to my mother’s.

However, that was not the only time the never-changing love of God was evidenced in that wind-chilled March night.

Clearly, I love a good complaint. My blog would not be called Negative (N)ellie if that were not the case. I can’t count the number of internal conversations I‘ve had in the shower, before bed, while doing the dishes, and of course while chasing dogs where I roll through my list of woes. I somehow manage to constantly cycle through this task while taking few opportunities to grow, change, or move on from the wrongs committed against me. Becoming a better person? Where’s the fun in that?

Unfortunately, I can now see the merit of such actions, due part in thanks to the desire of a basset hound to escape the best home she’s ever had.

Had I kept my eyes on the headlights of the truck, allowing them to lead me, I would have spared myself time, an arm ache, and one less coating of dirt on my socks. Instead, I kept my head down, looking at the dust and the rocks and the dumb animal I called a pet in my arms. Continually crying of how I deserved better, I found myself even more entrenched when I finally looked up.

Making myself more aware to my hardships only increased my hardships. It did not make me feel better, it did not change my situation, no wrongs were righted. I was worse off than I was before, and I can assuredly tell you the humbling walk back to my giggling mother definitely made it feel that way.

The truck‘s light never stopped shining, never stopped illuminating the path, I stopped looking at it. Christ’s love for us, our Heavenly Father’s love for us, is the same. It is always there, making things bright, but we sometimes choose not to see it.

If we look for the light, for evidences of Their love, we will always find it. From the kind word of a friend, a whisper of peace, or even the laziness of a basset hound so she can be more easily caught, God’s love is interwoven in every aspect of our lives. Though it can sometimes be more difficult to see when the darkness of trials and hard times surround us, if we but search for it, we will find it.

Though, in contrast, if we look for the bad, that is all we will find. If we look for how difficult life is, if we count our trials instead of our blessings, or drop prayers because we feel they go unanswered, continued difficulty is all we will find.

I am not at all saying that looking towards the light of Their love is easy. Evidenced above, I really, really stink at it, and there are those that have it far worse than me, and yet are much better at spotting the rays of hope.

What I am saying is it’s worth it. It’s worth it to look for the good when you know it will lead you to Him.

Blessedly, we never have to do it alone. When I was out in my own, dreary wilderness, sulking and moping and angry, a voice called me back. A voice that often times sounds so much to me like my Savior’s.

We are never abandoned, no matter how hard we stray. Seen in the light is a figure, one that calls to us. Directing our footsteps with not only the sound of His voice, but also by drawing towards us Himself. Tenderly, with a beautiful smile on His face, the Savior of the World meets us where are, gathers up our burdens, and walks us home.

His light is one that never dims, that never fades, that never wavers. Always, it can be spotted, and personally, I’ve found that it is when I am suffering the most (or feel I am) that it shines the brightest.

Forever and always, no matter how many times we drift, or the same actions must be repeated to draw us back, the Savior’s light is extended to us. Always, He works to shed the light of His love upon us, illuminating our way to Him.