The chorus from this song has been playing in my little head today…

Why?

Because last week as our good friends kept teasing us that Mercy was to be “our” dog, I knew she wasn’t…she was just a great object lesson of what mercy looks like.

A little puppy that I literally was close to shooting, (yes, we have the materials to do the job) because she had ravenously attacked our bottle baby goats. (Come on, who could blame me!)   The Lord had stilled my heart, my anger…I posted last about this encounter.

My husband had played with her, I had named her, Grace bought her a collar, Rinnah had snuggled her, even my non dog-loving son Jacob had pet her…deep down I knew she wasn’t “ours.”  The temptation to nibble the goats would be too profound.

My husband said, “Why don’t you take her to Wal-Mart?”  Did I have a sweet reply and say, “Yes, my Darling, whatever you desireth?”  No, I had laughed scornfully…yeah, right, sure…then someone else mentioned it…then my Darling mentioned it again.

I finally understand this was from the Lord and this morning was the first chance I had to go sit at Wal-Mart with one of those “free puppy” signs and an earnest, friendly look of appeal upon my face.  I asked my hubby to pray, my good friend who had been teasing me…I was praying…please bring a home…the right home for her…

10 a.m.

11 a.m.

time passes, a few people stop by to talk…a young mom with five dogs already, pupsitting a friends dog…Wal-Mart employees ( I’m telling you folks, the people that live in Bristow are oober friendly)…a threesome that are friendly if not a little scary, I start praying harder at this point, hoping I won’t end up on a milk carton….they move on…some more Wal-Mart employees…

Another nice truck pulls in with guess what, chairs…a sign…and six pups to give away…slapping forehead…this was my turf, HEY…I’d been here since 10 a.m.  C’est la vie.

I go talk to them with the pretext that Mercy needs to potty on the grass next to their shaded little spot of heaven.  She plops down on her belly and looks at me slightly impishly.  Sigh.

It turns out the mom and daughter are there to give away a whole litter that had been dumped on them…we wish each other well, bemoan the fact that people can be so cruel and I tell her about a good friend of ours that runs a no kill shelter.  But that is always my last resort.  I do everything I can humanly do before I call her.

I go back to my car.  Grace texts me and wonders if Mercy has a home.  I say no, I will come pick them up at 1:00.

12:00 passes.

People drive by slowly, smile, I think derisive thoughts about what they are grinning so big about.   A few people squeal out the window, “PUPPIES.”  No one stops.

I reflect that I am trying to give Mercy away, but my problem is, no one will receive her.  Plenty are going by, plenty are entertaining the notion, I can tell by the grin…but they drive on by.  You can’t force people to accept Mercy.

This isn’t lost on me.

A nice Ford truck pulls up.  A young man and his son get out and look my way.  I dismiss them.  They walk over.  They oogle the puppy, look intent on getting one, he asks me some good questions.

He walks down to the other puppies…comes back…asks to get her down out of my truck…I set her down, she does everything she should do, looks at him imploringly, wags her tail…he asks how she is with children…she promptly places her paws on his sons shoulders and wags profusely and happily…the little boy goes ga ga over her in response.

It’s a match made in heaven.

Thank you, Lord.

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