Be Still and Know

A few weeks ago during the pitch black of night, I woke to feel a warm nose pressing against the top of my hand. It was Roxie, of course, and she was standing at my bedside, nudging me into existence. I threw the covers back and pressed my feet to the cold wooden floor as she happily bounded from the room and ran toward the back door.

It was still dark out but the morning sky was nearing. Stars were in abundance and the air was damp and cool. Roxie ran down the ramp and leaped in circles on her leash like a bunny, sniffing fresh air and having a high old time.

"Pottie," I mumbled.

Roxie turned and walked a few feet, the length of her leash, then sat down and stared high up into the sky. Motionless.

"Pottie," I tried again.

Still, she sat. I could see her little nose twitching as she sniffed the fresh air, but her eyes never moved nor did her chin tilt downward. She was fixed on the heavens, deep brown eyes gazing from one star to the next.

We stood that way for at least ten minutes, both of us staring into the night sky. I'm not sure what Roxie was thinking but I was thanking God for puppies who make us stop and think on Him, even if they have to force us to do it in the middle of the night.

"Look," Roxie might have said, "I know you had a busy day. Working, cooking, playing with me, cleaning a little, and then some time returning emails. I didn't want to wake you but seriously, when would you have stopped to consider the universe and its Creator?"

And so she sat and I stood, looking at the heavens and just *being still and knowing*.

Aggie, a Lamb of God

Back in September (about the time the blog began, then stalled), I went to Virginia for "a couple of weeks" to be with baby Greyson until he either learned to walk or turned a year old - either one of which was requirement for attending his new day school. He learned to walk in pretty short order and even began attending the new school, but I couldn't bring myself to leave him until January. By then, I think his mom and dad were seriously considering eviction procedures.

What a time it was. We had always refered to me as Grammie or Grandma, never giving any thought to a proper name as a grandmother since he had no occasion to call me. I was pretty much beside him all the time. But one morning when I woke early and he was still asleep, I crept downstairs to make coffee while it was still dark. The baby monitor was on and I checked the volume and took it with me to watch the news. Noticing the red volume lights perk up, I held it closer to hear a tiny voice calling from upstairs.

"Aggie?" the voice called.

"Aaaggiiee" again.

Rushing up the stairs I opened the door to find Grey standing in his crib waiting for me. A huge smile broke as he shouted, "Aggie!"

And so I am no longer Jan or Mom or even Hey You. Offically, I am Aggie and the world is now seen through Aggie's eyes.

It made me think of life, Lord, and of course, Roxie. I call her Roxie, Babydoll, Honey, Sugarplum, whatever sweet comes to mind is her name. She runs to me happily because she recognizes the love in my voice regardless of what I'm saying.

What mother, in public, hasn't lost her breath when a child several aisles over cries, "Mommy!" even when said mothers' children are off at college or have children of their own? Names are important. They stick with us as the roles we play and as our own identity.

God is God, Master, I Am, Christ, King, Father, Saviour, and at least a page of other names. But I call him whatever sweet comes to mind at the time. He comes to me happily because He recognizes the love in my voice regardless of what I'm saying.

And He knows me by name. Like Roxie and Greyson, may I always run to Him because I recognize His loving voice.