Lacey

God’s good gifts. They enter our lives in all manner of forms. Often in disguise. Only recognized later for what they really are—much needed, much desired, most beautiful blessings. When the Creator of galaxies uniquely fashions a gift—well, this is something special, to be fully received and embraced, even when wrapped in sorrow.

Eight years ago a bouncy, energetic, anxious, absolutely adorable goldendoodle puppy arrived in our home. Unbeknownst to us her entrance would coincide with the sad, devastating direction our son’s life was turning as he began his experimentation and eventual surrender to the drug heroin. 

Her name was Lacey and she was our son’s dog. We encouraged him to wait, as most twenty-year-old young adults are not prepared for the time and dedication a pet requires. But he was determined. He had a rather large, empty, lonely part within his heart that he was seeking to fill. His searching led him to Lacey—and also to a much darker, more consuming and demanding companion.

We call Lacey our rescue dog, for it quickly became apparent that our son’s lifestyle could not support the healthy care of a puppy, or even himself. Though we had two dogs at the time, what’s one more!? So we thought. 😳 Our son was in need and so was Lacey. She became a sort of proxy for our son during those hard years. While we could not save him (this would come later when he was ready), we could embrace and care for Lacey. The love we so desperately wanted to pour out upon him, we shared with her. And she loved us in return.

Experiencing one of life’s full circle moments, the rescued dog soon became the rescuer. We could not see the giant iceberg called addiction that was directly in our path. We were on a collision course and soon, without warning, we would be sinking under the weight of our son’s disease. My descent into a dark abyss of depression paralleled my son’s descent into ever deeper, more destructive levels of substance abuse. This boy whom I loved and so intentionally cared for from the moment I felt his first little flip-flop of movement within—whom I tenderly rocked to sleep upon his birth—who brought such joy to my heart in his existence and the privilege of being his mother. He was now beyond my reach. Confined to the sidelines, I watched in desperate horror and hopelessness at this slow death of our beautiful boy.

In my dark night of the soul, God sent me a dog. Paralyzed in grief, it was Lacey who would find me and curl her body up close to mine, absorbing my sorrow, her fur saturated with my tears. Finding humor in her constantly wagging tail, her nickname became Wiggle Butt. I began to smile again. She passed no judgement, offered no pat answers, she simply was a friend in my time of need. When I was angry with God, feeling betrayed and hurt, asking “why Lord, will you not spare my son from this misery?”—He patiently anticipated my doubt and fear, and gave me a dog. For this I am thankful.

*****

We recently received news that Lacey will need to have her right eye removed. She’s been battling an autoimmune condition for several years and her eye cannot be saved. It is our turn now to do the rescuing, to help our girl adjust to life with one eye. I will be her wingman, her guard on the right from the attack of coyotes (they like to visit our yard) or over-exuberant grandchildren. I will help her navigate this new way of seeing the world, as she helped me adjust to a new reality. I will gladly do this—for she is God’s good gift to me.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬