A list. Of gentle, tender things in life.

• A flickering candle, in an otherwise dark room.
• Baby feet, so soft, wholly kissable.
• A song, with interesting notes and complex chords and lyrics written from the depths.
• A cup of hot, steaming tea, held close, like it’s your own little bonfire.
• A cable knit sweater. Especially in winter-white.
• Sandy-the-dog looks deeply in to my eyes and I can tell she is saying, “I will always be on your side. Sorry about all the hair I shed everywhere.” Dang. I just made myself cry. Ha.
• Apple Crisp in the oven, cinnamon and sugar joining in heated zeal, filling the air with an aroma most divine.
• A sunny blue-sky day, even though it is still cold out. Still way too cold!
• An old letter found – the sentiments even more meaningful for the time that has passed.
• A text from a grandbebe – because they are thinking of me when I am thinking of them.
• An encouragement – some one literally giving you their courage – right when you needed it.
• A long soak in the tub, streaming some good worship music, soaking in the Presence, too.

I’m a little bold, sometimes go at things, Dave says, “like a house on fire.” But sometimes, I need quiet, I need gentle, too.

Chloe.

Chloe is gone, now. And this causes tenderness in the heart, as well.

Just a few weeks ago I was there, in Indiana, and she welcomed me so warmly. She was a people-person, really loving and so sweet.  She was part of Dan and Dawn’s family (my youngest brother and his beautiful wife) and such a good doggie.

I went outside and watched her run and bound happily across their spacious, green yard just before the sun set. It is hard to reconcile that the end was so close for her.  She was loving and joyful, and so pretty. And a friend. I’ll miss those joy-filled greetings and nuzzles and the warm receptions Chloe always so generously gave.

This is a photo of Chloe with the grand-girl, Averi, a couple of years ago.

As I write this, my dilapidated old dog is at my feet. Sandy is somewhere near the finish line. It makes me feel better knowing she’ll be joining her cousin-doggie soon, where the two of them can romp like puppies again together, well and whole.

Don’t try to debate me theologically on this point. Sandy is one of the most Christ-like creations of God I have ever known. She is a godly old girl…

“Remember, O Lord, Your tender mercies and Your lovingkindnesses,
For they are from of old.
Do not remember the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions;
According to Your mercy remember me,
For Your goodness’ sake, O Lord.”  Psalm 25.6-7 NKJV