The Maker of Noses...

One of my favorite music artists, Rich Mullins, wrote a song a couple decades ago called "The Maker of Noses." That song has always been very special to me, not because of the gist of the song, but because of the infinite truth and love that one phrase gives a glimpse of...God takes such personal care in creating every single one of us that He even takes the time to make our noses just so, to count every hair on our heads, to put very particular parts of His character in us, and then He writes our names on His hands so we are never forgotten, never away from Him, always before Him.

The Maker of Noses knows me inside and out, and I am never ready for the surprises He brings my way - things only He could know I desire or need.

One of those things happened at 9:06 last night. But before I go there, I must give a little background.

In 2003, I had to put my little Maltese, Puff, to sleep as she was very old and sick and needed to go on home to dog heaven. Broke my heart. I had a lot of love to give a dog, and I started looking around for one to adopt. I don't even remember how I got connected with this lady, but somehow I ended up being introduced to an exceptional dog named Zana. Part bulldog and part mastiff, she was a tank. She and I were inseparable, two peas in a pod, for over three years. Then on April 1, 2006, I had to give her up. Again, somehow I was connected to a man back in the city I had raised her in, and he gladly took her and cared for her like his own. What's even weirder is that he even boarded her at the place she was born and raised and where I boarded her when I lived there. So parts of her life stayed exactly the same in the transition between me and her new home.

I don't talk about it much, but since giving her up, I've had deep regrets and have missed her more than probably a human should miss a canine, but hey, they are a woman's best friend too. She howled for over three hours in the car as her new owner drove away with her.  Knowing that hasn't helped my regret.  I've had chances to see her over the years but chose not to so I wouldn't confuse her.

Then last night at 9:06, I couldn't sleep so I checked my Facebook and found a message waiting for me there. It was from her owner. I thought at first he was writing to tell me she had died, but as I read the message I had to pinch myself to make sure I was actually still awake. He was writing to tell me he can't keep her any longer due to his significant other not wanting to live with a dog, and he was asking me if I wanted her back. My big ol' girl is over 9 years old now but is still doing well, and in two weeks I'm meeting him half way between Texas and Wisconsin to get her back. 

Only the Maker of my nose and the Counter of my freckles would know I have longed for and thought about the possibility of getting her back after all this time. Only He would have known I almost called in July to ask if I could have her back.

I know it may seem like just a stupid, small thing, but it's not to me. It let's me know, again, as He has over and over and over again through my life, that I am seen, that I am known, that what's important to me is important to Him, and that I am loved beyond anything I could dream up or imagine.

I'm coming, Zanabug!