His Eye is on the Pomeranian

Yesterday, my husband just happened to come home mid-morning to pick up a piece of equipment from his home office to take to his job, four blocks away. He just happened to leave the gate open.

As he left the back door, he sounded startled: "Oh! That's not one of our dogs."

And instantly, I fell in love with a blonde, hairy canine. Her tag read, "Shasta," and we started calling the numbers listed. Quickly, a vet's office connected us to the owner. I heard Mark say, "Mr. Newsom..." and I shouted, "It's Coach Jim's dog!" Coach Jim is our neighbor down the street and a well-known fixture in the Fort Worth running community.

Coach Jim is also a Christian and didn't even know his dog had escaped the yard. I carried Shasta down the street, where I met Coach Jim. He explained that his pastor had come over to swim (that's a whole other story) and left the gate open.

Coach Jim was so happy to see Shasta. His wife raises Dobermans, but he said, "This is the smartest dog we've ever had. She's my dog."

I smiled, happy that God was watching over the Pomeranians. I knew the chances were small that Shasta would enter a yard where people would instantly return her to her owner, so he wouldn't worry.

God is good.