For the first two years of our marriage, David and I split our time living between his Virginia Beach house and mine in Georgia. Such arrangements were necessary while he finished renovating his former 1963 home to sell it in late December 2024. As David returns to VA Beach this week to work on a side job with one of his dearest friends, I’m reminded of one of our favorite David and Sara-isms that still makes us laugh.
Until the final week we moved out of what we called our “northern guest home,” we maintained two separate households. Each of these properties had all the comforts we needed to live there for weeks, if not months, at a time. In addition to our clothing, each house had beds, pots and pans, towels, plates, and even TVs. More important than all the comforts of these homes, most of David’s tools resided in VA Beach, where he needed them to complete his renovations.
With such a long interval of living between the two states, the reality of David’s final move to GA still seemed surreal, once complete. In one instance, earlier this year, David offered to help our local church with a small job: replacing some roof shingles after a windstorm.
As he shared his commitment with me after our Sunday service, I had to stop myself from asking a question David knew was on my mind.
“Do you have…” I began, before stopping myself short.
“I have everything I need,” David said, laughing. “All my stuff’s here. I live here now.”
“I didn’t even have to finish my sentence,” I chuckled in return. “You knew exactly what I was thinking.”
“I did,” David said,” because I was thinking the same thing!”
Since then, David and I use this phrase often: “All your stuff is here.” Doing so always makes us laugh.
How often do we forget that our earthly dwellings are only temporary? Not enough, I suspect. I’m guilty of often doing so, myself. I get so caught up in the day-to-day busyness of our lives and all the things I need and want to accomplish that I often forget that this place is not my forever home. My life here is only temporary.
God provided David with a beautiful double-rainbow to accompany him on his drive to VA Beach.
It’s easy to get caught up in the here and now, and even what is happening tomorrow. While all of that is important, our worries and strivings for what we have and hope to have pale compared to what God has in store for us.
Matthew 6 admonishes us, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (V 19-21)
I freely admit that, having to start over 3 times in my adult life, I place too high a value on the things I’ve been able to secure for my home. Apart from the furniture and coastal decor I acquired from various estate sales over the years, I drive a cute yellow Hyundai Veloster and have way too many clothes and shoes. In short, I have a lot of “stuff” – much more than I need.
The rainbow that graced David’s journey north stretched across the road he was traveling.
I know I “can’t take it with me” when my Heavenly Father calls me home, so I should be more heavenly-minded to do more earthly good. Like David’s tools in Georgia, all my stuff’s here. I need to concentrate more on what I’m doing for Christ’s kingdom – consistently being Christ’s hands and feet to everyone I meet and work with. I need to give more for the furtherance of His gospel worldwide. I must “lay up for [myself] treasures in heaven” rather than worrying about what I have while I’m on earth.
The further David drove, the more he marveled at the beautiful double rainbow that covered the highway.
1 Corinthians 2:9 reminds us, “’What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived’ — the things God has prepared for those who love Him.” That’s what I need to concentrate on.
I need to change the phrase to “All my stuff’s there.” That’s where I need it to be. Heaven is my eternal home. I can’t wait to see what my Heavenly Father has in store for me there.
But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ. (2 Corinthians 11:3)
I spend much time on my knees, whether praying or pulling weeds. While I don’t always do these two things together, my Heavenly Father and I continually communicate. I feel incredibly close to Him when I’m basking in His creation.
I’ve been gardening for as long as I can remember. I vividly recall pulling onions and beans from our vegetable bed when I was 7, living in Nebraska. When we moved to Maryland, 6 years later, I took pride in the vegetables I helped plant and tend in our family garden, and was delighted to assist my grandfather as he harvested beans, corn, kale, squash, and tomatoes in his gardens. I’ve plotted, planned, weeded, cultivated, and tended gardens my whole life. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as home-grown vegetables.
Landscaping, too, is one of my favorite pastimes. Taking a blank canvas and creating colorful plant paintings has always brought me extensive joy.
Our front yard landscaping is surrounded by David’s painted timbers.
Our Georgia yard has 13 plant beds. All but 2 have flowers, and all need to be weeded, mulched, and cared for in their own special way. As with every home I’ve ever lived in, the previous owners had no flowers and only used pine straw. I prefer using wood mulch for its aesthetic appeal.
When I first moved here, I ordered 12 cubic yards of mulch delivered to my house. The dump truck dropped it into my front driveway. It took well over a month to scoop the mulch into a wheelbarrow and tote it around my yard to the beds I’d weeded, covered with landscape fabric, and planted flowers in – both in front and behind my house. This year, David and I added a new vegetable bed to a sunnier part of my yard. He also cut, painted, and installed landscape timbers around everything, replacing my plastic edging and making everything look classier.
Flowers and vegetables line the back fence while blueberry bushes accompany a bird bath and wind chimes in our yard.
It’s taken 3 years and most of this summer to reach the point where my vision for the space is nearly realized. I still need to weed more and add flowers to one last bed, but everything looks beautiful. I was happy to hear David say our yard is like a park.
Colorful zinnias draw beautiful butterflies to our garden.
I see God’s fingerprints on all the brightly colored flowers, butterflies, and birds that visit our yard and marvel at the beauty of His creation. The hundreds of hours of sweat equity I put into the space are nothing compared to the joy that fills my soul as I look out at all the colors and life in our property.
Our 8-foot-tall tomato plants sit adjacent to our zinnia bed.
Six weeks ago, something surprised me in our yard that forever changed the way I work in it. I follow a precise path when watering our backyard, strategically moving the hose around to bring me back to the hose reel where I began. It was when I doubled back to water one of our new beds that something caught my eye.
Snake in our yard, coiled under a blueberry bush.
To prevent the birds from stealing our blueberries, David created a wooden frame with bird netting that covered our plants from tip to ground. While watering the vegetable bed behind one of the bushes, I noticed a coiled snake beneath it. I had just walked within feet of this plant as I watered several beds around it, never seeing the reptile.
“David,” I calmly called, “Come see this. It does not look good.”
I had warned David about the snakes in our area. There is a wet weather canal behind our home, and I’ve seen black snakes, racers, garters, and even a 3.5-foot-long corn snake in my garden. David rescued a toad from the mouth of a small garter snake – not once but twice in recent months.
“Snakes are good,” he said at the time.
“Some snakes are, but there’s a reason why the devil took the form of a serpent,” I remember telling him. “I don’t mind the good snakes, but I’ve heard from neighbors and even the former owner that there are bad snakes here, too. Georgia is famous for its rattlesnake roundup. I know neighbors who’ve seen copperheads and rattlers around here, too.”
This colorful corn snake who visited our yard looks menacing but is non-venomous.
After seeing this snake, David immediately knew that this one wasn’t the good kind. “He has a diamond-shaped head,” David observed. “I’ll take care of it.”
While David searched our shed for the proper tool to use as a weapon, I stood back and opened my Seek app on my cell phone, wondering if the application I used to classify plants might also identify snakes.
It did.
“David,” I exclaimed, “That’s a water moccasin. It’s venomous. Please be careful!”
As I stood back to watch, I began praying in earnest. “Please, Lord, protect him. Please keep David safe!”
While we weren’t sure if the netting that covered our plant would prevent the snake from striking, thankfully, it did. Two blows later, following David’s apology to the reptile for having to kill it, he picked the dead creature up and tossed it into the canal.
“You had to do that, David,” I assured him. “Thank God you were here to do so. I couldn’t have done what you did. It’s a miracle that it didn’t strike while I was watering around it. I was within a foot of where it sat and never saw it until I came back. It could have bit you, me, or one of the dogs at any time.”
David holds up the decapitated water moccasin before tossing it into the canal behind our home.
“I know,” David replied. “I still didn’t like doing it.”
David and I were a bit nervous walking in the yard for quite a while after that encounter. “I’ve knelt all around this yard,” I told David. “Thank God the snake was under the netting today. Who knows what could have happened if he’d been anywhere else?”
While I was grateful that nothing happened to any of us with this dangerous creature lurking in our yard, it later struck me how Satan’s plans for us are so like those of that reptile. He’s always lurking around, waiting for just the right time to strike at us with his arsenal of fear, anxiety, stress, depression, anger, greed, and jealousy. We often don’t see him. He is a master of disguise and knows precisely how to manipulate us. Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 11:14 that “Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.”
Many people no longer believe in the Devil – or they think of him as a caricature, with horns and a pitchfork, sitting on our shoulders, whispering silly thoughts into our heads that we can brush off with a simple flick of our hands. According to a 2023 Gallup poll, only 58 percent believe such a thing as the Devil exists. Only 1 percent more believe in a literal hell.
Believe it or not, there are now “After School Satan Clubs” in public classrooms across our nation. While these groups were created by The Satanic Temple (ST), an organization recognized by the IRS as both a religion and a church, the organization insists that they don’t “worship Satan.” According to Lucien Greaves, the temple’s co-founder, the organization believes “the concept of Satan to be a ‘mythological framework’ that encourages people to question authority and follow ‘the best available evidence.” The group has gone so far as to use a cartoonish depiction of Satan as their club symbol to portray the Devil as a silly creature.
The group claims they will “only teach Satan as a ‘literary figure’ and that it ‘does not attempt to convert children to any religious ideology’ but ‘supports children to think for themselves.'” They hope to entice young people to join their clubs by offering “science projects, community service projects, puzzles and games, nature activities, arts and crafts, and snacks.” I think they protest too much, which makes these groups all the more suspicious. If they don’t believe in Satan, why use his name in their organization at all?
If these clubs are so innocent, why did this self-proclaimed altruistic group pay $100,000 for an 8,000-pound, 9-foot-tall statue of Baphomet – a winged, goat-headed creature frequently utilized as a symbol of Satanism – to represent their temple? And why does this statue prominently feature two children staring up at the face of this creature if the ST agenda has nothing to do with luring innocents to the face of evil? And why is the statue housed in their so-called “conversion room” in Salem, Massachusetts, if it has nothing to do with seeking converts? And yet, the group would have no one question the purpose of their after-school clubs.
Despite these claims of neutrality, kindness, and fun, 1 Peter 5:8 tells us to “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy, the Devil, prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” We must stay vigilant, alert, and prayerful – connected to God’s Word and strengthened by his power if we hope to resist the Devil’s snares.
Ephesians 6:10 tells us we must “Be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power.” James 4:7 reminds us to “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you.”
Whether it’s a snake in the grass or the Devil on the prowl, we can’t allow such things ever to gain a foothold in our lives. We must remain vigilant, alert, and connected to God’s Word. Only then can we successfully cut off the head of the snake and retain our victory in Christ.
Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18)
My mom and brother, Joe, arrived in GA a month ago for their tri-monthly visit, and I can honestly say they did so on the wings of a prayer – many fervent prayers, in fact. God never ceases to amaze me.
On their travel day, thunderstorms were threatening to delay their Denver departure. Would that it had been so. The whole day would have been much less dramatic if that were the case. Fortunately, God wanted to use their trip to demonstrate His power over our circumstances – and our ability to trust and pray.
Their adventure began when they missed the first of their two train rides to the airport by only a few minutes. Their regular travel day routine is for Joe to drop Mom off at the RTD railway station – approximately a mile from their house – return the car home, and jog back to catch the train. This time, his return came just a few minutes too late, causing a 30-minute delay in their trip.
Their connection is tight, usually allowing only a few minutes for the pair to leave the train and rush to another track to catch the airport run. This time, the connection didn’t come. When I called to ensure they were on their final train, my brother told me the trains had stopped running. “I don’t know why,” he reported.
“Maybe it’s the weather,” I replied.
“I don’t know,” Joe said. “It’s clear now. I’m afraid we’re going to miss our flight.”
“You still have plenty of time,” I affirmed. “Hang in there.”
My brother texted me twenty minutes later to report they were on the bus, but it wasn’t leaving for another 20 minutes.
“Does it go straight to the airport like the train does?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” my brother replied.
“Ask the driver. He’ll tell you,” I suggested.
A few minutes later, my brother texted to tell me there would be two stops on the journey.
“I understand,” I responded. “I’m praying for you both!”
“The stops are taking too long,” came the following text approximately 10 minutes later.
Checking my watch, I knew the delays had consumed all the extra travel time my brother allowed for their transportation.
“Go to the check-in counter as soon as you arrive,” I offered. “Do that before you ask for the wheelchair for mom. They’ll need to know that you’re there as soon as you arrive. Maybe the agents can help you get through security and drive you and mom to the gate. That happened to David and I once. I’m praying hard for both of you!”
Rechecking the time, I realized that their flight would be boarding in 30 minutes – and they weren’t even at the airport. Things weren’t looking promising for their trip.
I was working in my mom’s yard while all this was happening. A neighbor had consented to my digging up canna lilies from the canal beside his home to replant above my mom’s septic tank. I meant this to be a surprise for my mom when she arrived. With my long work hours and all the other yard projects I’d undertaken in my yard, I was rushing to finish this project before her arrival.
Canna lily bed I extracted plants from for my mom’s yard.
Despite my rush to get the plants in, I felt compelled to stop working and pray. Nothing could be more important than that.
And so, I dropped to my knees in my mom’s yard, put my face to the ground, and prayed, beseeching God to keep my mom and brother safe and bring them to me. Repeatedly, I kept saying, “Keep them safe, Lord. Open the gate. Keep them safe and open the gate. You parted the Red Sea. I know You can open the gate. Your will be done. Strengthen their testimony.”
I continued like this, praying for God to open the gate until the time came and went when I knew their boarding window had ended. With no word from my brother, I changed my prayers from pleas to acceptance.
It was then that I remembered how King David had begged God to save the first child born to him with Bathsheba – even though the prophet Nathan had told him his son would die. He prayed, clothed himself in sackcloth, and fasted for days, refusing to eat while petitioning his heavenly Father to save his son.
2 Samuel tells us the rest of the story:
18 On the seventh day, the child died. David’s attendants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, “While the child was still living, he wouldn’t listen to us when we spoke to him. How can we now tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate.” 19 David noticed that his attendants were whispering among themselves, and he realized the child was dead. “Is the child dead?” he asked. “Yes,” they replied, “he is dead.” 20 Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate. 21 His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!” 22 He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ 23 But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”
2 Samuel 12:18-22
I felt much the same. I prayed. I had pleaded with God for help. The only thing left to do was accept the outcome.
It was then that I called my brother again, intending to make a plan about how they’d arrive the next day.
When my brother picked up, I was stunned to hear him say, “We’re on the plane.”
“What?” I questioned. “How on earth did that happen?”
“The pilot was late, too,” came the reply. “They let us on with him. We’re seated in the front of the plane.”
I laughed and cried at this miraculous news, saying, “Yay, God! The same thing happened to me once, but I never thought it would happen again. That’s fantastic! I’ve been praying hard for hours, but when I didn’t hear anything, I surrendered and said, ‘Okay, God. It’s all up to You.’ Hearing that He opened the gates, just as I was praying, is miraculous. Yay, God!”
My mom and brother standing outside our GA church fellowship hallduring their recent visit.
Surrender is a miraculous thing. Our lives are seldom under our control. How quickly we forget God’s power – until He demonstrates it.
Only when we give everything to God will we see His miracles. Whether opening the closed gates in an airport, providing a new job, or allowing our soulmates to find us in a disaster zone, nothing is impossible with Christ. He keeps proving that to me, over and over again. I love how He constantly shows up and gives me more than I could have imagined. What a God we serve!
And so, my repeated refrain will always be, Pray continually and expect miracles. There’s nothing as magnificent as divine intervention.
“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten—the great locust and the young locust, the other locusts and the locust swarm—my great army that I sent among you. You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be shamed.” (Joel 2: 25-26)
June 1st was David’s birthday. His age doesn’t matter, but celebrating the day he came into the world does. Without such an event, my world would be dramatically different. While the peripherals that fill my day would be the same – serving my Savior, working hard at my day job, and tending our yard and gardens every weekend – my existence would be less complete without David.
Every day, I wake up and go to sleep, nestling in the arms of someone who loves me. While remotely connected to my workplace, I’m also watching my husband working in the yard, building new things to enhance our lives, and napping on the couch whenever he wants to. I love that “tinkering around” has become David’s new hobby in his recently retired world. I love that I can get and give kisses and hugs whenever I want them. I am grateful to have a partner who helps me care for, feed, and love our growing fur-baby family.
The beautiful new deck David built inside formerly unused space beside our screen porchgreatly enhances our yard.
Most importantly, I cherish the fact that I have a husband who daily reads God’s Word with me, sits beside me in the church pew on Sunday, and prays with me before every meal – with our heads touching, arms around each other in praise, glory, and petition to our Heavenly Father. There is nothing like having a Godly husband who understands my awe, reverence, and respect for my Creator. Nothing.
I still marvel at how my Heavenly Father brought two strangers together while we were serving Him in a town decimated by a natural disaster. Only God could have joined our two hearts so quickly after meeting. Only Christ could have pre-ordained our connection – despite separate lifetimes of loneliness, disappointment, and rejection. Only the Holy Spirit could have touched our hearts to open, blossom, and embrace one another on such a deep level of kinship and commitment. Our relationship, love, and lives can only be as entwined as they are because our Creator continually contains us with His loving hand of protection, provision, and power. It’s all beyond measure.
The new BBQ Tool Set David received for his birthday brought a boyish grin to his face.
What a joy it was to see David’s face filled with love after every call he received from his friends and family on his birthday.
“I have everything,” he told my mom on our call. My heart swelled with elation at seeing that statement’s truth permeating David’s glowing countenance.
“What I love about you today,” I told David, repeating our affirmation ritual, “is that I know I will always have you in my life – for all eternity. There is peace in affirming how God brought us together and that we will never be apart. We’re together now for all eternity.”
That’s quite a statement, considering that David and I spent three-quarters of our lives searching for each other. I had long ago given up believing that such a love – built on respect and adoration of our Savior – could even exist. We both resigned ourselves to serve Christ and find peace and joy there. While worshipping Him, our Heavenly Father said, “Wait until you see this! Look at the miracle I’m giving you!”
“I feel like a kid in a candy store,” David said as he reached out to me when we walked the dogs later in the evening. “I can’t stop smiling!”
“That’s just what you said to me in the early days of our friendship,” I reminisced. “Do you remember? You said, ‘We’ll be kids again, together.'”
“Of course I do,” David said while showing me the boyish grin that consistently melts my heart.
It’s hard to tell who’s happier in this photo – David or our fur babies – Blondie (front) and Brownie (back).
What a miracle our love is. Whatever we lost in our time before meeting seems like a distant memory now – from a lifetime ago, God not only restored what we lost, He blessed us beyond imagination with a love that neither David nor I could ever fathom.
Like the Israelites long ago, God has repaid us “for the years the locusts have eaten.” (Joel 2:25). Fickle as the Israelites were by following foreign gods after entering the Promised Land, God’s anger at His chosen people was eventually satiated. He heard the cries of His people, forgave them, and brought them back to His side once more.
As the preceding words of Joel tell us in verses 22-24: “God took pity on His people and returned to them what they lost in their time of punishment. ‘Do not be afraid, land of Judah; be glad and rejoice. Surely the Lord has done great things! Do not be afraid, you wild animals, for the pastures in the wilderness are becoming green. The trees are bearing their fruit; the fig tree and the vine yield their riches. Be glad, people of Zion, rejoice in the Lord your God, for He has given you the autumn rains because He is faithful. He sends you abundant showers, both autumn and spring rains, as before. The threshing floors will be filled with grain; the vats will overflow with new wine and oil.”
That’s precisely how it is with David and I. While we wandered in search of God, calling out for grace and forgiveness, He returned everything we’ve lost over the years – and then some. Our cups are overflowing with His goodness. Our storehouses are full of His grain.
As David’s birthday ended, I couldn’t help but praise my Savior for my husband’s special day, when the man God knew David would become was born. It may have taken years of wandering in a parched and thirsty land to find one another, but we are drinking in abundant praise to our Lord and Savior now – with supreme gratitude.
God gave us this beautiful love gift – written on the sky during one of evening dog walks.
There is no greater gift than God’s love upon our unworthy souls. Our lives have been restored beyond measure on David’s birthday and beyond. Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.
Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. (1 John 4:7)
This past week, I began supporting a new executive who experienced trouble with his technological footprint from day one. Our IT department created an email account and calendar for him under his formal name a few days before his start date that didn’t match the auto-generated account and calendar that used his nickname. While this might not seem like a big deal, many in my company began emailing and sending meeting invitations to his abridged name profile, which he didn’t have access to and would never receive. I spent most of his second day correcting the problem with our travel team, various administrators, and the IT department. By noon on the second day, I contacted my favorite support technician for help.
“I need your super-hero powers,” I told him. “I know you’ll be able to help me where others haven’t.”
Graciously, he agreed to drop all his other duties to assist me. “Sara,” he said, “I’m always going to help you whenever you call on me. It doesn’t matter what else I’m doing. I will always help you, no matter what.”
What made this statement so special was the motivation behind it. Gratitude. I consistently express genuine appreciation in a way that shocks others. While I’m continually stunned by that reality, it has become my norm. Having an attitude of gratitude is the exception in today’s world. Staying positive while surrounded by naysayers and grumblers is normal to me. To others, it is not.
A few months ago, I reposted a photo on LinkedIn to a sign that read, “A person who feels appreciated will always do more than expected.” Above the image, I added my sentiments: “Appreciation is my special sauce. I pour it over everything! It doesn’t cost a thing and always, always, always makes everything and everyone better! Thanksgiving isn’t a holiday. It’s a daily habit! Make it yours today!!”
To my surprise and amazement, a former technology specialist I worked with previously replied to my post with the following message: “I have a note you wrote to me on my fridge, serving as a reminder that there are caring people like you in the world.”
I last worked with this person more than 7 years ago. I don’t even remember when we connected on LinkedIn. And yet, there he was, telling me that he still had my note of appreciation I gave him on his refrigerator. I was blown away.
Years later, I heard the same thing from this latest technician I’d reached out to help. After telling me that he was dealing with a challenging situation at work with little gratitude and aggressive micromanagement, I spent the next few minutes reminding him how important he is – to me and the company.
“Your words mean SO much more than you know,” he later wrote me. “Also helped me with a tough decision I was facing the past couple days.”
“I promise you that your worth is immeasurable,” I replied. “You may not hear that from everyone – not even from those that you need to hear it from the most – but that doesn’t make it any less real. You are irreplaceable and incomparable. Never forget that.”
Those words come from my heart. While I didn’t feel valuable to anyone on earth before meeting David, I knew my Savior loved me. That thought got me through countless trials that could have easily broken me. I serve an awesome God and have always known how much He loves me.
As a follower of Christ, it’s up to me to be His hands and feet on earth. I may not be able to serve Him in a formal religious setting, but I can still serve my Creator by treating people with love – whether they are coworkers, family members, or total strangers. I want people to see Christ in me – in my compassion, kindness, and appreciation. After all, demonstrating gratitude is just another way to show love – and isn’t that what we Christians are consistently called to do? We are to love others as Christ first loved us.
Maya Angelou once said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Jesus Christ took that to a different level. John 13:34 reminds us, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.”
Let love and appreciation fill your every day. You may never know what a difference your love and Christ’s can make in the lives of others, but that doesn’t matter. God does, and He told us to sow love everywhere. May it flow out of every pore in my body and into the lives of others every day God gives me on earth.
A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. (Proverbs 17:22)
Life with Blondie and Brownie, our new dogs, has already been a fantastic journey. From the moment they arrived, our lives drastically altered. We wake earlier, exercise more, and have learned to adapt to prevent the steady slew of chewed reading glasses, chair edges, and ripped dog beds that the two formerly greeted us with each morning. As frustrating as damaged property may be, our fur babies bring us joy and laughter daily. We wouldn’t exchange that for anything.
While the pair began their heartworm treatment on the first day they were rescued in Puerto Rico, their oral pills were nothing compared to the shots they’ll receive over the next month. Our vet administered the first of their three-shot regimen this past week.
Our fur babies waited patiently at the vet’s office following theirfirst heartworm shots.
Per the American Heartworm Society (AHS), melarsomine is the only approved adulticide that can successfully treat and eliminate the disease. That being said, “melarsomine is [also] an arsenical with potentially serious side effects.” In addition to the crucial importance of injecting this drug into a precise location in a critical manner to avoid any medical issues, the cure can be as frightening as the foot-long worms that are currently living inside our fur babies.
Blondie and Brownie will be sporting the same shaved spots over their epaxial (lumbar) muscles over the next few months, during treatment.
Essentially, our vet has administered a form of arsenic to our dogs to kill their parasites. As awful as that sounds, it’s equally terrifying to consider that these dead or dying worms will pervade our dogs’ bloodstreams over the next two months before they’re slowly absorbed into their systems. In short, these foreign bodies could act as embolisms, causing catastrophic damage. We must keep our fur babies calm and limit physical activity to keep their blood pressure down to prevent the same. Easier said than done.
A sleepy Blondie relaxed on his bed after consuming his first calming chew.
Rather than crate them over the next few months, we’re utilizing a combination of prescriptive Trazodone in the mornings and calming chews with chamomile and melatonin before bed. So far, so good.
Brownie was much calmer after consuming his first dose of Trazodone.
As we walk through this process, I can’t help but think about Proverbs 4:23, which reminds us, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” Christians must protect our hearts, minds, and bodies from anything that can distract, pervade, and lead us away from Christ – no easy task while living in a culture permeated with materialism, idolatry, and sensuality. While society may say, “if it feels good, do it,” Christians must be mindful that “if Christ wouldn’t do it, neither should I.”
Developing this mindset requires strict adherence to Biblical values, a disciplined schedule of scripture reading, selective viewing of media options, and a discerning selection of friends. I’ve always been particularly mindful of who I hung out with. I never needed a slew of friends and always lived by the idea that having a single friend I could trust and count on was all I ever needed. I still believe that to be true.
As Solomon said in Proverbs 12:26, “The righteous choose their friends carefully, but the way of the wicked leads them astray.” The same can be said of those we choose to date or marry. Earlier in life, I trusted too much and leaned more on my emotions than the sound Biblical wisdom I should have listened to. I thought I could “change” my exes and bring them to God. I now know that God is the only one who can change anyone, and only if they want to change.
I’m blessed to have a Godly husband as my faithful partner, confidant, and best friend. David shares my values and strives to grow in His love of Christ. It’s God’s love that intertwines our hearts. He is the cord that ties us together and protects us.
I’m struck by how vital healthy hearts are to the well-being of all living creatures. While Blondie and Brownie developed their heartworms through the transmission of infected mosquitoes, our hearts can easily become diseased and infected by the company we keep, the thoughts we allow entry into our minds, and the things that occupy our time.
While our dogs had no one to give them preventives to keep them safe from the parasites, we each have a choice as to what measures we’ll take to protect our hearts from going astray. Choosing Christ is the best defensive measure one could ever take to prevent heart disease.
In the case of Blondie and Brownie, they will never be without their monthly heartworm pills.
As a Christian, I will stay true to my daily regimen of prayer and praise to stay rooted in Christ and focused on His wisdom. After all, “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard [my] heart and [my] mind in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)
Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. (Romans 8:17)
When David and I visited Puerto Rico (PR) on our premier wedding anniversary in March 2023, we encountered our first island stray– a kitten – in the El Yunque rainforest parking lot. The presence of this tiny fur ball in the parking lot of a national park stirred our compassion so much that we each fed him half of our lunches. Afterward, I ensured a young man working at a ranger station knew the feline was there.
After thanking me for letting him know, the ranger confirmed that he’d reach out to a friend who had a rescue. “I’m sure he’s a stray. We see them here sometimes.”
We later commented to the owner of a local gift shop about the kitten’s presence and the number of dogs we saw running around the island. “We have a huge problem with stray animals here,” he explained. “Stray dogs, cats, and even horses are everywhere. There are few resources to take care of them. I have already taken in five dogs, and my friend has done the same.”
I vividly remember telling David that we could never live in Puerto Rico. “We’d want to save them all,” I recall saying.
At the time, I couldn’t have imagined how God would use our love for His creatures to change our lives one year later. During this year’s repeat trip, David and I learned firsthand how vast the island’s Sato problem is.
According to Dogster.com, “Sato is Puerto Rican slang for street mutts.” While Satos have been around since the island was colonized, an estimated 500-650,000 strays are roaming the territory now. While the breed typically shares similar traits – such as short fur, large ears, and a long muzzle – the name has been widely accepted to incorporate all varieties of intermixed breeds, including terriers, labradors, and pointers.
With such an abundance of strays, our vacation rental property manager gave the general guidance, “Please don’t feed the animals,” on his website. As a reminder, he featured a sign with the same message on his back porch.
“Easier said than done,” I commented to David – long before we boarded our first plane for our vacation. “We need to stay strong.”
Blondie & Brownie waiting for us on the porch of our Puerto Rican rental property.
All that disappeared when we met two amazing dogs outside our rental home. Blondie and Brownie, as David affectionately named them, met us shortly after our arrival – even going so far as to follow us down the steep half-mile path to a deserted beach below the property. While Brownie showed no fear of us, Blondie was a bit skittish and wouldn’t allow us to touch him. Still, the two were inseparable and seemed eager to accompany us on our daily journey.
Brownie trotted alongside us as we passed through the “free-roaming cow gate” – comprised of two rows of barbed wire and a long stick – with Blondie close behind. The two occasionally ventured off the trail to take an easier path, yet they never strayed far from our sides. They waited when we walked slower than they did and remained close every step of the way.
After exiting the woods near the dunes, the dogs trotted ahead, leading us onto one of the most magnificent beaches I’d ever seen. With cliffs to our right, a roaring ocean ahead, and a pristine, deserted shoreline to walk in either direction, the companionship and camaraderie of our canine friends served to make our daily beach walks even more magical.
Watching the two dogs play together on the beach – roughhousing in the sand and chasing one another at breakneck speed – enhanced our appreciation of God’s resplendent creation. While laughing at the dogs’ antics each evening, we marveled at how our Heavenly Father had given us these two precious pups to enhance our getaway.
By day 3 of our week-long stay, neither David nor I resisted feeding our new-found companions. What started as bread and leftovers soon escalated to a whole bag of dog food, a bucket of water, and prayers about their long-term welfare.
By day 4, I was lying awake at night, wondering if feeding the dogs and showing them affection was the right thing to do.
“I love that they’re here,” I cried to David while eating breakfast that morning, “but they’re breaking my heart. I feel like we’ll be doing the same thing that others have done – abandoning them without explanation. It feels like a betrayal. This whole thing has become a dark cloud over our trip.”
Our Puerto Rican welcome party – Blondie (top) and Brownie (bottom) loved to just hang out with us.
When David said he understood, I began a two-fold mission: 1) researching the intricacies of flying dogs off the island and back to the States, and 2) contacting local animal rescues in hopes of finding loving homes for our new friends. What I uncovered made me pause in my pursuit. Many of the organizations that claimed to help animals were instead 24/7 kill shelters with a 96% euthanasia rate – paid for by the Puerto Rican government. “Be careful,” one legitimate site said. “While you may feel like you’re helping, research before you reach out to any ‘rescues.'”
While I was far from alone in my desire to save the island Satos, doing so soon proved to be a monumental task. Part of the problem is a culture that doesn’t see a problem – just a reality. Dogs and cats are everywhere. Their free-roaming existence is part of life on the 3,500-square-mile island.
According to The Sato Project, the stray dog population doubled following Hurricane Maria in 2017. Pets were separated from their owners and became hopelessly lost. An unstable power grid, a slew of natural disasters, and poor economic prosperity led to some animal owners abandoning the island and their pets. According to SaveTheSatos.com, the remaining strays quickly multiplied – further exacerbating the problem. It’s estimated that an unspayed female and her mate can produce 67,000 puppies throughout a 6-year interval.
Organizations such as FlyDogz actively work to rescue/rehabilitate and save Satos by flying puppies off the island to awaiting adopters within the U.S. Anyone willing to be a “Flyer” can help carry a dog onboard a plane and straight to the waiting arms of a rescuer in Tampa, FL.
While our situation was different, I still contacted the organization for suggestions. I was told to join their Facebook page: Tourist in Puerto Rico and found a dog/cat; now what? After asking for assistance, one group member told me I could help by taking the dogs home with me.
“I’m leaving in 3 days,” I responded, “I can’t even catch one of the Satos, let alone take them both to the vet, complete the FAA paperwork, and get them on a plane to travel home with us.”
Still, the thought remained in my head. How on earth could we take these two dogs – animals we’d seen bite the tail off of one iguana and later thrash another – home to live with us and our kitties? The idea seemed inconceivable. And yet, I wondered, was it?
We knew we needed to leave by noon for the 3-hour drive back to the airport on our last day. We’d take one last walk to the beach with our furry friends before feeding them and trying to say “goodbye.”
Our final walk was bittersweet. While we loved being in PR and spending time with the dogs, leaving them would be heartbreaking. As we neared the last stretch of the walk in the woods before turning to cross the dunes, we heard Spanish spoken to our right. Who was there? We’d never seen anyone on any of the paths during our 7-day stay.
As we exited the woods, two men carrying giant bamboo tree trunks as walking sticks greeted us. “Are those your dogs?” the first man asked.
“They’re strays,” I replied. “They’re super sweet and have followed us all week.” On impulse, I added, “Would you like two dogs? We’re praying that someone will take care of them.”
The first man laughed, saying, “No, but I can give you the number of someone who can help! She helped me with a problem I had.”
After pulling up a contact listing on his phone, the man encouraged me to take a picture to have all the contact info I needed. I remain amazed by how much that chance encounter meant to our story.
I now believe those men were angels sent to us by God. The rest is, as they say, history.
After arriving at our gate at the San Juan airport, I could wait no longer to text Dawn Frederick – the contact I’d saved from the angel’s phone. Her organization is rightfully named Angels for Animals, Puerto Rico. I desperately wanted to make contact and know someone might help Blondie and Brownie after our departure. Dawn instantly replied, saying she might be able to put them on a feeding run. The thought gave me hope that they wouldn’t be alone.
By the next day, David and I agreed that we couldn’t leave the dogs behind. “I want to get them,” David said.
David and I couldn’t forget Brownie or Blondie and wanted to bring them home.
“So do I,” I agreed. “Thank God, we both think alike! Let’s text Dawn.”
As it turned out, Dawn was in the U.S. at the time, taking care of her mother, who has cancer. Despite this enormous challenge in her personal life, she runs a successful hotel booking agency and splits time between her U.S. and PR homes while running her charity to save the island’s precious Satos.
Two days after returning to PR, Dawn, David, and I incorporated the assistance of the property owner we’d rented from during our vacation. “This is the part where I admit we fed the animals,” David laughingly admitted.
“That’s okay,” Carlo confirmed. “I rescued one myself. I understand.” Miraculously, Carlo was entirely on board with our rescue proposal. “My housekeeper knows them,” he said. “She can help.”
As it turned out, that extra help was never needed.
On Friday, April 11th – 6 days after we’d returned from our trip – Dawn drove an hour and a half to our former rental to search for Blondie and Brownie.
“I’m starting off on the rescue mission,” Dawn said in her preliminary video to us. “I have food and chicken right here in my hand. Food to feed dogs on the way. Two kennels for the dogs. Getting some kittens this morning that are 2-days old and back here for a group effort to save. Towels and stuff for the inside of the kennels. Preventatives for the dogs. Here we go. This is what you do!”
A few texts with Carlo, David, and me over the next few hours verified that Dawn was at the correct location. I’ll never forget Dawn’s words an hour later as she called to tell us she’d caught Blondie and Brownie.
“Oh, my gosh!!!” I yelled through the phone. “I can’t believe it!”
“Yay!” David affirmed.
“Yay, God!!” I completed. David and I could hardly contain our enthusiasm and tears at hearing this miraculous news.
Two hours and a complete veterinarian exam later, we learned that both dogs had hookworms and heartworms but were in otherwise good health. Brownie weighed in at 59 pounds and Blondie at 50. Both tested negative for tick-related diseases. Dawn gave them a preventive pill to kill their fleas and begin destroying the heartworm larvae. The vet vaccinated both and provided the health certificates they needed so they could fly out of PR. They also administered IV fluids to assist with their malnutrition.
Blondie solidified his hold on my heart on the morning of our last day in PR when he finally let me touch him.
While learning that both dogs had heartworms was frightening, this often fatal condition is treatable – albeit expensive. There was no question that we’d do whatever it took to save these precious lives.
“Thank you for telling us,” I cried to Dawn. “That means so much to me. I was worried about taking them from their beautiful home, but now I know, it was the right thing to do. We’re saving their lives.”
One week later, on Good Friday, after boarding both dogs at a local kennel for a week, they were on their way to Miami and, ultimately, Jacksonville, FL. Temperatures were the primary concern, as no one would fly dogs in cargo if the weather rose above 85 degrees. With temps expected to reach 83 that day, we were precariously close to the cut-off that would make escape from the island impossible.
Two airline attempts – 1 successful and the other not – would eventually bring Blondie and Brownie as far as the southern tip of Florida.
“Can you get to Miami?” Dawn asked at 11:12 am that Friday morning. “They can’t get them to Jacksonville now for some reason.”
“Oh, my gosh,” I replied. We’ll do our best to get out the door in the next half hour – but it’ll take us 7 hours without stops to get there. No chance of getting them further north?”
“Okay. Start driving,” Dawn texted me in return.
Two weeks and one day later, Blondie and Brownie have completely changed our lives. As we walk them together each evening, David repeatedly affirms our new reality: “We have two dogs!”
“We sure do,” I say in return. “Yay, God!”
While this journey is far from over, I can’t help but be struck by how our lives – and the lives of everyone walking the face of the earth – are like Blondie’s and Brownie’s. We’re all strays without Christ. We’re no different than Puerto Rican street dogs. We may seem to be okay by all outward appearances. But inwardly, we’re all lost, homeless, trying to make it through on borrowed time.
We all have heartworms of some sort inside us – eating away at our life’s blood, only to eventually kill us one day. Most of us don’t even know what’s consuming us from the inside out, nor do we care. We run in the sand, chasing one another, recklessly pursuing life’s temporary pleasures, without realizing how lonely, sick, and helpless we all are. We’re lost without Christ. Everything we seek in this world – food, status, power, and comfort – means nothing when the storms, sickness, and even death come.
With Christ, each of us has the chance to start over, to begin again. We can be healthy – from the inside out – if we surrender to our Heavenly Father and give him our hearts and lives.
God gave up His Son to save us: Satos that we are. We don’t deserve His love and sacrificial efforts to rescue, save, and cover us with His precious blood, bringing us home to live forever with Him in heaven one day. He loved us before we were born – just as David and I did with each other – just as David and I are now doing for Blondie and Brownie.
“God sent them to us, and us to them,” David often says. “These are the perfect dogs for us, as we are for them.”
Our first family portrait with Blondie and Brownie Olson, taken in our yardjust after bringing them home to GA.
I am establishing social media accounts to document Blondie’s and Brownie’s stories. We aim to share their love, joy and hope with the world. Their heartworm recovery will take time, money, and lots of love – the latter being something God gave us in abundance.
It’s an adventure bringing home strays. Once created, I’ll keep sharing their stories here and on their Facebook and Instagram accounts. I hope hearing about our journey to rescue, rehome, and rehabilitate these precious pups will encourage others to do the same.
But more importantly, I want everyone who hears about Blondie and Brownie to remember that they are no longer strays. While Blondie’s and Brownie’s journey continues, so does ours. By the grace of God, we, too, are Satos No More.
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. (2 Corin. 4:8-9)
In celebration of our second wedding anniversary, David and I traveled to northwestern Puerto Rico (PR) in pursuit of a peaceful escape. What we found provided us with a level of solitude and serenity that eclipsed any vacation we had ever taken. The beauty, strength, and majesty of God’s creation exceeded our expectations and left us in breathless awe and wonder at every turn.
In contrast to our first trip to PR on last year’s anniversary, the northwestern part of the island is raw and regal. While the east coast boasts pristine waters and peaceful shores, the northwest features rocky coastlines with powerful wave-breaks. While I read that surfers flock to these shores, the very idea of such a thing was hard to envision. Seeing the rolling turquoise waves break across the cliffs, rocky tables, and a craggy shore made a quick believer out of me.
Rocky tables along the shore make for geyser-like splashes near Isabela, Puerto Rico.
Our Heavenly Father’s power was demonstrated at every turn. Row after row of waves pounded the surf, roaring in demonstration of our Creator’s majesty. Between the sustained winds of 20-25 mph with gusts up to 30 or more, we knew there would be no swimming in most of these waters. Rip-current signs were posted at almost all the beaches we visited. The strong waves crash over the rocky shores in most areas, creating a grandiose display unrivaled by geysers.
Our vacation rental sat high above the sandy beach on the outskirts of Isabela. To get to the shore, we hiked a half mile down a steep path through the woods, unlocking a makeshift stick gate with barbed wire and a fun sign (in Spanish and English) advising us to keep the gate shut to prevent the free-roaming cows from escaping. (Only in PR!)
When we arrived on the beach, we were blown away (literally and figuratively) by the beauty surrounding us. With cliffs to our right and a pounding surf straight ahead, we walked another half mile to the left and discovered a cove surrounded by rocks that blocked the waves from crashing into the shore. As we walked back up to our rental house at twilight, I was struck by the resplendent sunset we soon learned to take great lengths to witness each night we were there.
Another beautiful Puerto Rican sunset.
Each day, we were enraptured by the beauty of God’s creation as we visited 7 area beaches – each different from the other and yet equally memorable. One beach – Pastillo – promised a cave with a beautiful arch where unique photos could be taken. We discovered that the savage surf and treacherous riptides would prevent anyone from visiting the arch’s location – around the cliff and beyond the waves – during this time of year.
Rocky silhouette of Taino Chief Mabodomaca along the shore of Pastillo Beach, Puerto Rico.
While we couldn’t enter Cueva de las Golondrinas, or the Swallows Cave as translated, we were happy to discover the rocky-faced profile of Taino Chief Mabodomaca – seemingly carved into the cliffside. His eye sockets, nose, and lips were easily visible – given a little imagination and the inspiring guidance to look for him when we arrived.
Along the way, I was intrigued to find a nearly horizontal palm tree along the shoreline. It was easy to envision the tropical storm or hurricane-force winds that had battered this shore and nearly ripped the tree out of the ground.
While the wind and surf had surely pummeled this tree – evidenced by its horizontal drop – its roots ran deep enough to keep it in place and allow it to regrow. While it had been forced down – bent nearly horizontal at its trunk – it ultimately grew up again towards the sun. I wondered how long this tree had stood as a testament to God’s power. How many people passed by it over time and yet never saw the analogy that I did?
Downed palm tree along Pastillo Beach, Puerto Rico.
Into each of our lives, storms will blow. They will knock us down – maybe even off our feet – but we can rise again. We can survive anything – with God’s help. Our Heavenly Father is always with us. He will never leave us or forsake us (Deut. 31:6).
As Romans 8: 35-39 tells us, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Sunset at Pozo de Jacinto (Jacinto’s pit cave) – a natural blowhole in the cliffside at Jobos Beach, Puerto Rico.
I read that Bible passage at my sister’s funeral after she and my niece were murdered by my sister’s husband in 2006. I thought of it often as I left my second abusive husband and tried to start my life over again. I think of it whenever I see someone struggling with circumstances seemingly out of control. It’s one of my favorite passages to share with anyone who needs to remember that God is always with us. And He always loves us. Nothing can ever change that.
Life is hard. It can be brutal. It can knock us off our feet and cripple us if we let it. But only if we let it. If we remain rooted in Christ, He will sustain us. John 15:5 says, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
Just like the palm tree David and I visited on the shore of Pastillo Beach, I choose to stay rooted in Christ. He has sustained me more times than I can remember, and I know He will always hold me. All I need to do is keep reaching up to Him.
Pastillo Beach, Puerto Rico.
The same is true for you, beloved. Keep holding on and keep reaching up. You may be down but never out if you are rooted and sustained by Christ.
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12)
I remember an old set of Southwest Airlines commercials whose tagline was “Wanna get away?” The ads featured people who had gone through some type of dramatic blunder that they needed to escape from. In one example, a woman sneezed over a sand painting. In another, a man jumped in what he presumed to be a cab only to find out it was a getaway car. While I haven’t experienced anything quite so climactic, my 10-12 hour work days have me consistently feeling like I “wanna get away.”
I’ve nearly forgotten what it means to step outside on a weeknight – to see the sky and sun or even dig in my garden. If it weren’t for David and my kitties reminding me when it’s mealtime, I’d barely eat myself. Monday through Friday, my new routine is to work, eat, clean up, read the Bible with David, watch one hour of Amazon Prime, and then sleep hard until I get up and do it all over again.
I wasn’t planning to take a vacation so soon into my new work tenure, but when I learned that my primary executive was taking a week off, I decided to follow suit. The timing was perfect for David and me to visit Puerto Rico for our second wedding anniversary.
While the thought of a getaway may have been timely, my planning for our escape was far from my usual modus operandi. I didn’t organize much, which is hardly my style. I’m a planner. All day long, that’s what I do. I organize, coordinate, facilitate, and capture intense details for the five executives I support. I take care of all their meetings, calendars, and travel details.
While my job title may be Executive Assistant, I now consider myself an administrative soldier. I dodge bullets masked as requests that keep my head spinning on a swivel, jumping through fiery hurdles to make the impossible possible at every turn. While no one may intend to rip me to shreds with their bombastic artillery, at the end of the day, I often feel battered, bruised, and mentally exhausted from trying to keep up with all the demands. There’s not much of me left at that point.
I love my job and am incontrovertibly grateful to have it, but it’s one of the most intense roles I’ve ever held. I carry a lot of weight on my shoulders every day. As a result, doing things for myself has become secondary. Planning an 8-day anniversary trip normally would have been the result of serious mental gymnastics on my part. The truth is, I didn’t have it in me.
While I had booked David’s and my flights, arranged a rental car, and chosen two vacation spots for our weeklong stay, the rest of the trip was utterly uncoordinated. The night before we were set to travel, I still had to pack our food staples along with my clothing, toiletries, and meds, as well as prep instructions for our pet sitter, do laundry, make dinner, and pack lunches.
Thankfully, David took over laundry duty, crafted our pet sitter’s guidance, made our lunches, and helped pack our food. I couldn’t have made it through without his help. As my 3:00 pm targeted end work time stretched into 5:30 pm, I rushed out to get my haircut – something I’d wanted to do for the past two weeks. After stepping foot inside the salon, I was turned away by the stylists who said they weren’t taking anyone else that day. As I returned home, I couldn’t help but feel disappointment at this news and frustration that I needed to return to work.
Despite my self-imposed commitment to not be packing until midnight, my preparations continued until 11:45 pm. By then, I was exhausted.
After waking at 5:00 am, I laid in bed until 5:40 and then rose to prepare to leave by 6:30 for our 8:37 am flight. Only then did I realize that I didn’t have our rental car information written down – sparking a moment of sheer panic. I had bundled the car with our flight but had no memory of what my confirmation number was – or even which agency I had rented from. Fearing that the information wasn’t on my phone, I began frantically searching my digital files to no avail. No matter where I looked, the reservation eluded me.
Fifteen minutes and many prayers later, I found what I needed, embedded within my original flight receipt. Unfortunately, this search put us 15 minutes behind schedule. Despite my best efforts to rush the rest of my morning preparations, David and I left 10 minutes late.
While rushing to the airport, I thought about all the ways my work has consumed me and prevented me from doing for myself what I do for others. I’m a detail-oriented person, but lately, my efforts have all been to help my execs and not enough for David and me. The stress I felt going into this trip could have been avoided had I put as much time into our preparations as I’ve been investing in my job.
The truth is, I’m still finding the work-life balance that I desperately need. Something’s got to give before I do.
As we drove to FL for our morning flight, the sun was just beginning to crest the horizon. Looking left as we crossed over the tidal marshes along our journey, I could see a thick fog wisping above the water. At my behest, David attempted to snatch a photo with his phone while commenting that it wouldn’t “read well.” I knew the fog would be hard to see in a photo, but I couldn’t help trying.
Looking down through the clouds on our first flight.
It was then that I realized we were cutting it close to the bag drop off time plus we still had to park and take a bus back to the airport from the economy lot. “This is going to be tough,” I told David.
“Why don’t I drop you off and then go park?” David suggested.
“That’s a fabulous idea,” I affirmed.
After exiting the vehicle, I rushed to the airline counter only to be greeted by a smiling gate agent.
“Where’s the awesome husband?” he asked, commenting on my “I love my awesome husband” shirt. David and I begin wearing these shirts during our travels last January to show our affection for one another. People consistently smile when they see them, and many tell us how much they love them.
“He dropped me off so I could get our bags on the plane in time,” I responded. “He’ll be here soon.”
“His reputation proceeds him, I see,” said the agent, whose name I later learned was Isaiah.
“It does,” I confirmed. “He is awesome!”
For the next 10 minutes, Isaiah listened as I told him the story of how David and I met. “That’s my new testimony,” I told Isaiah. “When you surrender to God, He can give you the desires of your heart.”
Upon seeing David, Isaiah’s face burst into a smile. “Here’s the awesome husband,” he proclaimed while David flashed his matching “I love my awesome wife” shirt under his sweatshirt. We all laughed as we posed for a photo together to memorialize our encounter.
David and I with Frontier Airlines agent, Isaiah.
“Thank you so much for your kindness,” I told Isaiah as we parted ways.
“You guys made my day,” Isaiah quipped back.
As we boarded our plane, I was struck by how my Heavenly Father had helped me in both large and small ways on the path to our escape. He heard my prayer when I needed help preparing for our trip. He showed me the car confirmation when I despaired at ever finding it. He helped David and me get to the airport with just enough time to have our bags loaded by a fellow believer who encouraged us as much as I hope we encouraged him.
As the skies cleared, God gifted me with an aerial view of a magnificent sunrise over the GA coastline.
Although the devil continues to try to steal our joy, he can never take away our witness. We can’t always see our way through challenges, but God does. He will continue to help us if we ask Him to do so. Clearly, I need to ask Him more.
If we will give all our pieces to our Creator, He will see us through the fog to the other side – to a place where He can use, guide, and lead us to fulfill His purpose for His glory.
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.(1 (Corinthians 15:12)
May it be so, Lord Jesus. Show me Your way through the fog to a brighter day.
The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. (Deuteronomy 33:27)
David and I speak the same love language – on many levels. We both strive to be affirming; we look for ways to help one another, and – perhaps the most profound thing – we understand the importance of physical touch. Neither David nor I understood the importance of these God-given manifestations of love until we found one another. Now, it is our daily joy to find ways of expressing them.
When we pray, we scoot our chairs close to one another, rest our foreheads and sometimes our cheeks together, and hug one another. “I love how we pray,” David said recently.
“Me, too,” I agreed, smiling.
After we pray, we kiss – at least twice – saying, “I love you” to one another, as well.
Celebrating Fri-yay with an amazing grilled steak, twice baked potatoes, and broccoli – all cooked by David.
That’s a bit much, you might think. Perhaps it is to some people. But not to us. Physical touch – huggling, providing little kisses throughout the day, sitting as close as we can to one another – all these signs of affection are like breathing to David and me.
Sleeping is another matter entirely. I consistently fall asleep with David’s arm around me, my head nestled on his shoulder, my leg thrown over his leg. “Hurry!” David tells me at night. “The Sara spot is waiting for you.”
“Mmm,” I remark when I’m tucked inside this position of comfort. “All is right with the world.”
“Every day,” David often says in return. “We get to do this every day. It never gets old.”
Even at church suppers, David and I always take photos with our heads together.
Even though we both eventually roll over to opposing sides during the night, our bodies remain in constant touch. When either of us returns to spoon the other, I often feel that there is nothing more satisfying than our love.
I have never slept as well as I do with David. Sleep used to elude me. I’d often lie awake at night, thinking about my job and mentally preparing for the next day’s activities. Sometimes, I still do. It’s an unavoidable consequence of working a high-stress job. Even so, knowing that David is beside me gives me great comfort.
David and I continue to celebrate finding each other through the Samaritan’s Purse ministry -every time we serve with them.
When I find my mind moving to work duties as dawn approaches, I often count my blessings – love, security, and contentment being chief among them. I usually fall asleep quickly as I pray to God, thanking Him for his great mercy and abundance. Focusing on my blessings rather than my burdens gives me peace. When one feels peaceful, sleep comes quickly.
On one of these occasions – when I woke in the middle of the night, thinking about all the things I hadn’t yet done at work and still needed to do – I stopped to thank God for perpetually holding me in His arms. I’ve only had David for two years, but my Heavenly Father is omnipresent. I knew I wasn’t alone long before God allowed David and me to meet. My Savior has carried me through every challenging circumstance throughout my life.
Growing up, my walk with Christ grew consistently stronger. I used to seek His presence however I could. My mom raised me on Christian radio. There was inevitably a sermon to be heard in our household on any given evening. We seldom watched TV. Radio and books were our preferred entertainment. I remember listening to Unshackled by the Pacific Garden Mission and Stories of Great Christians, produced by the Moody Church in Chicago, IL.
Hugging is David’s and my natural state – even in Puerto Rico during our one-year wedding anniversary in March, 2024.
I grew up inspired by Hudson Taylor (1839-1898) – the famous missionary to China who believed in trusting God with every need, never voicing them out loud. And God continually provided. I still remember Fanny Crosby’s story (1820-1915) of trust and faithfulness. Although Fanny became blind at age six, she never stopped expressing her love for God. This writer penned over 8,000 poems and hymns in her lifetime – “Blessed Assurance” being one of my favorites. Hudson’s and Fannie’s stories gave me hope while ceaselessly reminding me about God’s love and provision.
In middle and high school, I frequently ventured into my grandfather’s woods beside my home. It was there that I would forget my sadness at being an outcast. I felt God’s presence in the sun, sky, and trees. I remember singing songs of praise to Him in the wooded clearing. Those moments uplifted my spirit and fortified my walk with Christ.
Even as we said goodbye when David and Bo returned to VA Beach to work on his former house, our heads were together.
I listened to Chuck Colson’s Insight for Living as a high schooler – even requesting copies of his sermon notes when such things had to be shipped via the U.S. Postal Service. Listening to those sermons and reading the notes made the Bible come alive to me.
Throughout my two abusive marriages, I sought God’s solace through His creation. No matter how unloved I felt by those monsters, I knew my Savior loved me. I listened to contemporary Christian music at every opportunity – whether strapping a CD to my arm with my Sony Walkman while cutting the grass or lingering in the yard to watch the sun go down behind the West Virginia mountains. One of my favorite pastimes was singing “Show Me Your Glory” by Third Day in my yard, acres away from my former spouse, before returning to my volatile home.
I remember huddling in the woods beside a golf course near my home in the middle of a cold night after my ex-husband told me to get out. I distinctly recall praying to God: You know I’m here, Lord. You know, and You care. That thought empowered me to survive countless nights of the same torment – being thrust out in the dark to sleep in my yard, garage, with my dogs, or on my deck, garden, or car. God carried me through all those experiences – bolstering my belief that my Heavenly Father loved me no matter how worthless anyone else made me feel.
When my best friend encouraged me to date again a few years ago, I told her I had no desire to do so. “God is my constant companion,” I remember telling her. “He’s all I’ll ever need.”
Our first Easter as a married couple in 2023.
The truth is, I never believed someone could love me like God does. As I said in my wedding vows: “I didn’t want superficial love. I wanted perfect love – a love like God’s with skin on it. I dreamed of the kind of love that would see into my soul and love every part of me – inside and out. Despite my flaws and insecurities, the perfect love I envisioned that someday someone would have for me would be blind to anything but my spirit.”
That’s the love I have now. For the past two blissful years, I have felt the unconditional love of my God-given husband. His arms now physically hold me as my Savior has throughout my life. When I see David, I see God’s love – manifested through the eyes of a man who truly loves me.
I know David gets frustrated with me, just like my Heavenly Father does. And yet, I also know they will both incessantly love me. When David’s arms hold me at night, I feel that they are the physical manifestation of God’s all-encompassing compassion, security, and comfort for all of us.
Psalm 91:4 tells us, “He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings, you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”
God’s protective wings, faithful love, and sheltering provision will dependably surround us. We must only acknowledge and accept Christ as our Savior to rest in His everlasting arms.
