Dog In The Basement.

Tonight, I said to someone at church (with no intention of being clever or funny - it was just my tired brain expressing itself), "There's a dog in my basement. Well, more a puppy than a dog."

Blank stare from them, followed by "Why is there a dog in your basement?"

"Because there was a bat in the bedroom at 5:00 this morning."

Of course. Why ever else would there be a dog in my basement (at 9:30 tonight)? They should have thought of that, right?

On another topic. Today is one of those days that's gotten me thinking. About kids. About family. About what children will be part of the family that Derek and I have. What will those kids look like? Will they be blond like me? Darker like him? Will they have a big Greek nose and funny Norwegian toes? Blue eyes that twinkle with mischief, or brown ones wide with wonder? Will they be boys? Girls? Both? I used to think those things. Ask those questions. But...

There are children in my heart. Special ones. One is our little girl, Anna. When we lost her, we didn't have testing done and we don't actually "know" that she is a girl. But, there are some things that are stored inside a parent's heart, and the knowledge that she was a girl is one of those. We chose her name carefully. Annaliah. It means depending on grace. Because if we are to have hope, to not be bowled over by the fact that she's not here with us, we need grace. We are utterly dependent on it.

Another is a special little boy. His name is Nicholas. He's got parents who don't want to teach him about God. But he knows. He knows who Jesus is. That he died on the cross. That he rose from the grave. That He loves little Nicholas so much. That if Nicholas asks Him, He will come in and be the Lord of his life.

Another is a special one. One my husband and I prayed about. Were prepared for. Ready to adopt. Ready to bring in and graft into our life together. This child isn't with us, either. This child is with the woman who gave him or her life. We see this child from time to time, and it tugs at my heart each time.

The rest? I don't know. Yet. But they are there. Sparkling brown eyes. Almond shaped ones. Shiny black hair. Skin the color of chocolate.

I think about them during this time of year. The time of year when family is the topic of conversation. The focus of so much. And my heart, it aches. It longs. It hurts. Cries. I feel somehow incomplete. And yet... my heart praises. I am so thankful. I am so blessed. So very, richly, specially blessed.

Now. You might still be hung up on the dog and the bat. Let me explain.

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. I was still awake at 5:00 this morning. I heard a bat. Flying. Emitting it's clicking call to find dinner (there is no dinner. It's too cold for bugs right now). I heard my cats in a herd behind the bat, pursuing it around the upstairs. I heard them all come in the bedroom. Watched the bat hit the ceiling and fall, as it attempted to evade leaping flying feline fury (say that fast, sixteen times). In a frantic rush to remove the cats from the bat, and subsequently contain the bat, I started grabbing and tossing them out the bedroom door. I miss-judged my grip on our biggest and bestest, Furbis. He bit me. Hard. I earned it. But still... it hurt. Still does. By 9:00 AM, it was getting redder. And hurting. By noon, it was starting to appear somewhat infected. Off to the doctor with me.

While out, I found a puppy. A six month old (approximately) puppy. A hound. She was so sweet. And good. And potty trained. And knew sit, stay, lay down. Of course, I brought her home. NOT to keep! To find her human. I had a first and last name, and the dog's name. No phone number - the one on the hand-written tag was no longer in service. I started calling area vet clinics, asking if they treated the dog or had any ideas. Finally, one said that they didn't, and they didn't have any information on the owner, but they did know the owner's dad. They gave me his number. After a lot of phone tag and an 11:00 trip to doggie's home, little Vivienne has been returned to her home. She was quite happy being with us, but seemed even happier to be at her house.

So. There you go. The reason there was a dog in my basement is that there was a bat in my bedroom. Of course.