Shine

I sat at a round table set with elegantly tarnished silver and thin bone china.  The room, paneled in rich mahogany, was warmed by the winter sun as it streamed through the wavy glass windows.  All around me, women spoke in hushed voices and laughed soft, musical laughs.  And I smiled.  I felt at home in this rich room with these women, many of whom had travelled a path similar to mine at least in some way.  We shared the uniform, the sharp salute, the desire to serve and defend, and we had come together to celebrate that tie.

Beside me, giant head on my feet, snored Jug, the tangible souvenir of my last military days; across from me sat the woman who had made Jug a possibility.  I watched as she lifted her stemmed glass and took a sip of white wine.  Then, setting the glass gently on the white cloth, she began to speak of her time at UC Berkley and how Jug’s organization took seed.

“I had a friend –  a roommate – who was a quadriplegic, and through her I met other people in wheelchairs.  Some of them had service dogs.  These dogs could do ‘party tricks’ like open refrigerators to get beers for the guys and sodas for the girls.  These dogs could get wallets out of purses and open doors before there were even handicap-access door buttons.  I pledged then that part of my first paycheck would go toward (helping organizations that raised service dogs.)”  She did exactly as she pledged, and, then, years later, deciding that she could and would do a better job than any service dog organization of which she knew, she founded Veterans Moving Forward.

As I sat listening to her story, the thought took hold and grew that there is always a plan; He always has a plan.  The very worst things that happen to us and around us – those things can and will be used for Beauty and Glory.  He knew that I would need Jug, that there would be someone who needed Buckles and Eagle and Finn and King and Prince (all VMF serviced dogs).  He knew that there would be a way to make something that was a tragedy in someone else’s life a Beauty for those of us who needed the dogs.  I ache to the core for the families that suffered to show that VMF needed to come into being, but the thought that tulips bloom from, uhm, “dirt” comforts me.

I think now of all the mess in my own life, all the things I have prayed against, railed against, agonized over.  I know it can be used, if not for me then for someone else, and that thought makes my heart glad – more than glad, shine.  I shine for Him.