The "Jazz" in My World

I closed the bathroom door, turned on the faucet, and picked up the soap. It was time to get ready for another day, and washing the face and brushing the teeth is, naturally, one of the first things on the agenda. Fling! The bathroom door went flying open, and crashed into the wall. I turned, soap in hand, just as a black nose and snout pushed into the room. Yes, it was the Jazz-man. He doesn't care very much for closed doors. "Hello, lambie-pie," I said gently, "I'm sorry, but I do have to get ready!" Satisfied that the door was open, for now, anyway; he turned and trotted down the hallway to the dining room.

I quietly pulled the door shut again, and resumed my "cleansing." Fling! The door went crashing into the wall once more. There was that same black snout again, appearing around the doorframe, and this time, the brown eyes were quite indignant. You know I don't like the door shut where I can't see you, they seemed to say, so why do you keep closing the silly thing?

"I'm sorry, Jazzy, what was I thinking?" I answered his unspoken reproach. Content that he had made his point at last, he trotted back up the hallway and disappeared into the other room.

For several years, back in our "Pre - Jazz" days, on many different occasions, I would longingly say out loud: "Oh how I wish we could get a black Labrador Retriever puppy. They are such darlings!"

Then, one terribly hot summer day, when the Texas heat was very close to unbearable, my mom and sister were driving down one of the neighborhood streets, and saw a little black pup trying to get water out of a lawn sprinkler. I was not with them, but they later told me that they stopped the car, went up to the house, and told the people that their puppy was out. "He's not ours," they were told, "He just wandered up a few days ago. If you want him, take him."

The little pup was terrified. Though both of them called and called, he would only run away in fear. Finally, however, they got down on their knees, and must have reached just the right coaxing tone, because he suddenly came barreling towards them, no longer able to resist.

He was filthy, covered with fleas, big patches of hair were gone from a staff infection on his skin, and he had worms, as well as a belly bloated from starvation. Nonetheless, they picked him up and took him home, (much like our Lord does us, when He finds us in our filthy state, sick of the world, but with no hope, and no way to change our circumstances.) They gave him food and water, bathed him twice, sat up with him that night, and then took him to the vet the next morning. The vet told them that it was fortunate they had found him when they did; he could not have survived even one more day in the ferocious heat with no water.

(This part of Jazz's story reminds me of just how lost we are when the Lord finds us. We, too, are disoriented and wandering; filthy, desperate, and thirsty for a drink from the well of God's Spirit. And the skies are cloudless, with no promise of rain, and the heat rises from the ground in shimmering waves... and our souls cry out for just one drink... for just one touch... to let us know that He cares about our situation... and suddenly, when we are just about to perish from the intense heat of our circumstances, and we feel that we will not last even one more day... we cry out for Him... and He is there, because He loves us with an everlasting love, and was just waiting for the sound of our voice... and He picks us up, and draws us to Himself through His beautiful Truth, and forgives us, and saves us, and refreshes our parched souls with the gentle, cleansing rain of His Spirit, and He comforts us with His perfect love...)

When I saw the little rescued stray for the first time, later that afternoon, I fell instantly and completely in love. My black Labrador pup had come to me, though quite a bit worse for wear! As he began to get well and eat lots of nourishing food and receive lots of attention, he began to thrive. Little by little, he became more playful, and we noticed that he had a certain, spritely way of stepping, when he was feeling especially playful. It was sort of like a jazzy little side-step, and, since I had always loved the name Jazz, (and wanted to name him that) we decided it was especially appropriate, in view of his "Jazz-steppin' ."

He is the darling of the family, now, and he knows it. He eats his dog food from a spoon, (much like a baby, and just as happily.) He has his own bed and comforter, his own toys, and, every Christmas, he gets to unwrap his own "gifts" along with the rest of us. The only problem is that after he has torn the wrapping from his, he wants to go around the circle and "assist" everyone in opening theirs!

His arrival in my life was no accident, for I have a very loving Father that hears every word I say, and knows even the desires of my heart. And I believe He was listening in every time I yearned for a black Lab pup, and spoke those words out loud. He always gives the best gifts to His children. I know that's true, because He did it for me, in the form of a black, hairy angel, with a cold nose and a heart full of love. And, as I write these words, my own heart smiles, and I am thankful...