[Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Thu Oct 24 18:59:50 UTC 2013

Well donw; great story.  Dogs are indeed man's best friend.

-----Original Message-----
From: Faith-talk [mailto:faith-talk-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Debby
Phillips
Sent: Thursday, October 24, 2013 2:44 PM
To: Faith-talk, for the discussion of faith and religion
Cc: Faith-talk, for the discussion of faith and religion
Subject: Re: [Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Wednesday, October 23, 2013

This is a great story. I think God has given dogs more gifts to help us then
we have given 

Sent from my iPhone

> On Oct 23, 2013, at 2:52 PM, Sheila Leigland <sleigland at bresnan.net>
wrote:
> 
> thi great story. Love works miracles.
>> On 10/23/2013 1:47 PM, Paul hem credit for  Blessings,   Debby wrote:
>> Well folks, in most of the world it's still Wednesday as I write this,
but you in Australia and New Zealand are in your Thursday mornings.  Hope
you had or will have a pleasant breakfast this morning.  As for us in the
Americas, we're in our afternoons as I write this, except for you West
Coasters.  At any rate I hope that your day is going well.
>> 
>> Today's article is about a dog and a little boy, but no ordinary dog and
no ordinary little boy.  It is entitled "When Michael Met Rosie" and was
written by Clare Guthrie of Manassas Park, Virginia, a southern suburb of
Washington DC.  It is rendered as follows:
>> 
>> My older kids wanted a dog.  But I worried about my youngest.  He
couldn't tell me what he wanted.
>> 
>> "We're getting a dog! We're getting a dog!" the kids chanted from the
back of our car on the way to Pennsylvania to pick up Rosie, our new Lab,
from her foster home.  I glanced back at my teenager, Aaron, his younger
sister, Rachel, seven, and brother Joshua, five, who hadn't stopped talking
about Rosie since we'd pulled out of our driveway in Virginia an hour
before.  Only my two-year-old Michael was silent.  He was just as excited,
but he couldn't join in with the chatter of his siblings.  I felt a familiar
ache in my chest, knowing how badly Michael wanted to join in, and knowing
it was impossible.  It was a pain I felt often, ever since we found out
about Michael's condition.
>> 
>> I knew something was different about Michael at six months old.  Josh and
Rachel walked and talked early.  But our otherwise healthy-looking baby boy
had trouble even crawling.  Michael couldn't roll over and he couldn't sit
up without toppling.  Even more troubling, he never developed baby talk.  I
wondered if he'd ever speak.  His brother Aaron has cerebral palsy, and I
feared Michael might have a disability, too.  Michael was diagnosed with
dyspraxia, a developmental disorder that makes it difficult to perform
complex functions.  Michael's trouble with speaking was part of that
disorder, called Childhood Apraxia of Speech.  He wanted to speak, but his
mind just wouldn't let him.
>> 
>> Even now, at two years and three months, he still couldn't say much more
than "mama" or "dada" when he wanted us for something.  And often, we
couldn't understand what he wanted.  His speech therapist helped us teach
him some basic sign language.  Even that was hard for him.  A few days
earlier, Michael tried to ask me for something, but he couldn't form the
signs.  Instead, he began gesturing wildly.  "I'm sorry, Michael.  I don't
understand," I told him.  His face turned a deep shade of red; he went into
a tantrum, letting out a high-pitched scream.  I felt so helpless.  My baby
was hurting, and I could not do anything for him.
>> 
>> I looked in the rearview mirror back at Michael, who was staring out the
window.  This dog, I hoped, would be something he could enjoy.  My husband,
Doug, and I had done our research.  We looked for a Labrador, a breed known
to be good with kids, a young dog so it could grow up with our children.  We
found Rosie on the website for a Lab rescue agency.  A 14-month-old
chocolate Lab, with experience around babies, children, and cats.  All of
our "dream dog" qualities.  But would she be right for our family? Was I
wrong to hope? Finally, we pulled up to Rosie's foster home.  I silently
prayed, "Please, God, let Rosie be right for our kids, especially Michael,
but don't let me hope for too much."
>> 
>> Doug lifted Michael out of his car seat while I went to the door with the
other kids.  "You must be here to see Rosie," the woman said.  And there
Rosie was, standing in the foyer, tongue hanging out, her tail wagging
wildly.  Aaron, Rachel and Joshua ran up to her.
>> 
>> "Rosie, you're so beautiful," Rachel said, ruffling her smooth fur.
>> 
>> "Hi, Rosie," said Aaron, scratching her behind the ears.  Love, at first
sight, I thought.  But what about my two-year-old? Michael ambled over.  He
patted her gently on the head.  Rosie nuzzled against him.  I breathed a
sigh of relief.
>> 
>> I was about to follow the woman into the other room to talk to her about
the dog when I heard a voice, an unfamiliar voice.  "Rosie," the voice said,
strong and clear.  "Rosie!" It was Michael.  I looked at Doug, my mouth
agape.  "Rosie!" he said again, nuzzling against the dog.  Now, Doug and I
were the speechless ones.
>> 
>> Rosie sat in the back with the kids on the way home.  "You're going to
love our house, Rosie Pops," I said.
>> 
>> The kids loved the nickname.  The whole ride back, that's what we called
her.  We were about halfway home when Michael spoke again.  "Rosie Pops," he
said.  One word was amazing enough, but two words together? In one day? Doug
and I chalked it up to Michael's excitement.  Don't get your hopes up, I
reminded myself.  How often had I seen progress when there was none? "God,"
I prayed once more, "make this dog a good fit for our family."
>> 
>> A few days later I was folding laundry, watching the kids play with
Rosie.  Michael stood next to her, petting her as she rubbed up against him.
Then, without warning, she jumped, and Michael lost his balance.  I watched
in horror as he fell over.  I dropped everything and rushed to him.  But I
calmed down when I saw Michael laughing.  He pushed off the carpet and
stood, following Rosie again as she raced around the room.  I watched more
closely.  Rosie wasn't being reckless.  Every time she nudged Michael, she
did it gently, almost as if she were testing him.  And each time he fell,
she waited by his side studying him until he rose to his feet.  It was a
little game they were playing.  A game Rosie was using to learn things about
Michael.
>> 
>> The next night, at dinner, Michael shocked everyone when he said,
"Juice." Right out of the blue! A day later, he said, "Dog."
>> 
>> It's hard to describe the astonishment that took over our house.  Over
the next few weeks, he added more words:  candy, cookie, car.  He was also
becoming less clumsy, rarely stumbling.  His speech therapist was baffled.
"Kids with apraxia don't progress like this," she told me.
>> 
>> I was baffled, too.  I went on an apraxia website and emailed for
information.  "Is there anything about dogs helping kids with apraxia?" I
asked.  Yes, as it turned out.  Studies found the stimulation a dog brings
can awaken muscles necessary for speech and other bodily movements.  Each
time Michael laughed, fell, and got back up again, his brain was busily
connecting the dots between his muscles and his actions.  Now I knew why he
was improving.  I went up to tuck Michael into bed.  He was exhausted from
playing with Rosie all day.  I pulled the blanket up to his chest and gave
him a kiss.
>> 
>> Michael moved his lips.  "Luv vu," he said.  Did he say that? Michael
spoke again. "Luv vu," he said.
>> 
>> I wrapped my arms around him.  "I love you, Michael," I whispered through
my tears.  "I love you, too."
>> 
>> I shut off his light and headed to the living room.  Rosie lay curled up
by the TV.  I stroked behind her ears and told her what a good girl she was.
She was teaching Michael so much--and me, as well.  God answers prayers in
many ways.  This time He chose a dog to answer ours.  Hope comes in many
forms, and I must never forsake it.
>> 
>> Family Room
>> 
>> "He amazes us every day," says Claire Guthrie of her three-year-old son,
Michael, who has the developmental disorder dyspraxia.  "He knows all his
colors, and his movement is now on par with other kids his age." A few of
Michael's favorite things? Running around at the local park with his beloved
Labrador, Rosie, and playing make-believe.  "He loves pretending to be
Indiana Jones!" says Claire.  These days Michael prefers to go by his
nickname, Ponie.  "As a baby, Michael had a low muscle tone.  Sometimes he'd
nearly fall back when we held him, so we'd say, Whoa back, little pony! The
name just stuck!"
>> 
>> Claire, a photographer, enjoys capturing her family on film, and with her
husband, Doug, their five children, Rosie, and two cats, she's not short on
subjects! "I love capturing memories in images," she says.
>> 
>> Well, my fellow readers around the world, if this story wasn't an
inspiration to you (which I hope it was), all I can say is that I'm not a
good judge of people's likes and/or dislikes.  Claire's story only goes to
show that "nothing is impossible with God," as the late Eugene Clark wrote
many years ago.
>> 
>> And now may the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, 
>> individually and collectively, in these last days in which we live.  
>> Your Christian friend and brother, Paul 
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> 
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