God never gives us more than we can handle.
I held tight to that old saying when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004, and all throughout my surgeries and chemotherapy treatments.
After my last reconstructive surgery, I woke from a nap feeling relieved. I was ready to get on with the rest of my life. Finally things would calm down.
Or so I thought. My husband came into the bedroom with a serious look on his face–and a suitcase in his hand. “I’m leaving,” he said. We’d been married for 22 years.
He couldn’t mean he was leaving me, could he? He took a deep breath. That was exactly what he meant. Apparently God had not finished with me yet. No more than I could handle? Even after all I’d been through?
Luckily I had family to depend on, not to mention good friends who rallied around me. And I trusted in God the same as ever. I just didn’t know how I’d find the strength to do what I had to do. My world seemed to be collapsing around me.
The doctors were pleased with my progress, but weeks passed and I still felt vulnerable, physically and emotionally. I wondered if I’d ever adjust completely to living on my own: working, shopping, taking care of household repairs, sleeping alone in the king-size bed.
“I can handle this,” I told myself as I turned off the light one night. But as I lay down I couldn’t help but wish for something good in my life. “I know I have a lot to be grateful for, God. But the last couple years have been tough. Help me remember life isn’t always a struggle.”
I woke the next morning with a dream vividly in my mind. I was running and playing with a white dog, laughing without a care in the world. Just remembering it made me smile.
Too bad owning a real dog was such hard work. A dog had to be fed, walked, bathed, seen by a vet. Not to mention trained. I had neither the time nor energy to scrub out pet stains and vacuum up dog hair. A dog was out of the question.
I got myself ready for work, imagining what the morning might be like if I had even one more detail to take care of before getting out the door on time. Who needed a dog?
I put the dream out of my mind until Sharon, a friend at work, mentioned a stray her husband had rescued. “She wandered onto the construction site where Tom was working,” Sharon said. “Jumped right up onto the forklift!
“Tom gave her water and something to eat, then called the animal shelter. She’s a beautiful white Lab.”
A white dog? My dream came back to me full force. “White is a rare color for a Lab,” my friend Georgene chimed in.
The words tumbled out of my mouth: “Maybe I could adopt her.”
Georgene grinned as if planning a secret mission. “Let’s go to the shelter this weekend!”
Saturday morning Georgene and I were waiting at the doors when it opened. The attendant brought out a dog with snow-white fur and the saddest eyes I’d ever seen. I knelt beside her. “I think I know how you feel,” I said. Maybe the two of us could start a new life together.
The Lab leaned her strong body against me, as if to give me a hug. Something about having her by my side made me feel stronger than I had felt in a very long time. Like I could handle anything.
“I’ve never seen a dog take to anybody that fast,” said Georgene.
I put my name on a list of hopeful adopters. We had to wait seven days for an answer. Seven days felt like seven years! While waiting I picked out a name for my new friend. I would call her Lacey, for her dainty white fur. Finally the shelter called: Lacey was mine!
We went straight from the shelter to the vet’s office. Lacey needed a thorough checkup and shots, and I didn’t want to waste a minute as a responsible pet owner.
The waiting room was crowded with big dogs, little dogs, cats, birds of all kinds and exotic animals I couldn’t identify. Did I belong in this room? Could I really give Lacey everything she needed?
Lacey nudged her head under my hand. As I rubbed her silky ears, my worries receded. Whatever it took, Lacey was worth it.
The vet gave Lacey a clean bill of health and we headed home. She walked through the front door as if she’d done it a hundred times before. I showed her around the place, and she seemed to agree that this was where she belonged.
That night I climbed into bed–and Lacey leaped right up on the covers. “This has to stop,” I told her. Shedding, more laundry…
But looking into Lacey’s warm brown eyes, I felt like I was gaining a lot more than I was losing. “Well, just this once,” I relented. Tomorrow we’d begin her training. For one night Lacey wasn’t a responsibility, she was a gift.
Since then Lacey and I have made new friends at the dog park. But my parents’ dog, Toby, is Lacey’s best friend. Dad brings him over every day for a play date.
Sometimes life can be a struggle. And there are a lot of responsibilities that go with owning a dog. But when I feel overwhelmed Lacey is there, pressing her body against me or resting her warm chin on my knee.
If I stay in bed too long she takes the covers in her teeth and whips them off as if to say, “Time to welcome a brand-new day!”
I never did get around to kicking her off the bed, because she never stopped feeling like a gift. You see, God would never give me more than I can handle.
And I know for sure he gave me Lacey.
