Mar
6
2020
The Size Of A Teacup
Posted in Faith 6 Comments
The story started out simply enough.
It got more unbelievable.
Except it wasn’t.
It really happened.
I know the storyteller.
I know the story is true.
I know my mouth widened as she told the story to its end.
I know she made me laugh in the telling.
Somehow, we got on the topic of dogs.
She told me that at one time she had five dogs in her home.
She had one Great Dane and four poodles.
It was one poodle in particular that captured her heart.
The dog was a tea cup poodle.
How small was it? I asked her wanting to know.
At birth, she could actually fit into a teacup, she explained.
She held out her cupped hands as if the little dog was still inside them.
Weren’t you afraid the Great Dane might hurt her? I asked innocently enough.
That was my polite way of asking, Weren’t you afraid the Great Dane might eat her?
Oh, no, she went on, all the dogs ate out of the same dish.
The poodles would go under the Great Dane’s legs as she was eating and they all ate together.
I knew my mental picture could not have come close to what actually happened.
I smiled at the thought.
Little poodles were underneath the massive legs of the Great Dane, eating from the same bowl.
I thought of the lion lying down with the lamb.
I took my little dog everywhere, she said.
I imagined her holding the little dog in her cupped hands.
I carried my pocketbook on my shoulder.
I carried the other bag by the handles.
The other bag? I asked, not understanding.
The bag I got from France.
The bag that held my little dog.
No one ever knew, she said with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes.
You carried your little dog in a bag? I asked her.
It was a special bag for my dog, she said.
It had a little hole so she could look up at me.
It was lined with plastic inside.
Oh, the mental pictures I had of this woman carrying her little dog around incognito.
What was your dog’s name? I asked her.
Wiffy, she told me.
Somehow that seemed to fit the little dog and the woman’s story.
She was already named when I got her from the breeder, she continued.
My heart was drawn to her immediately.
The breeder did not want to sell her because she was so sweet.
But, Wiffy went home with me, she said remembering and quite proud of herself.
I took her food shopping and put her in the cart.
I took her to restaurants and put her under the table.
I took her to church and put her at my feet when I played the organ.
I put her on the floor as I sat in the church pew to listen to the sermon.
Didn’t anyone know you carried a little dog in that bag? I asked her really wanting to know.
No, she never made a sound, the woman told me.
I would take her outside so she could go; then she’d run right back into the bag.
She was only three pounds; you could hardly see her.
Somehow the whole story fit this woman perfectly.
How old was Wiffy when she died? I asked her.
She was 14 years old, she told me.
I always said she lived that long because she never walked anywhere!
All those years and no one ever noticed! I remarked.
Not exactly, she said.
One Sunday, a little boy came up to me and asked me why I always carry two pocketbooks?
All those years and only a little boy noticed.
I told him that I carried my little dog in there, she said with a mischievous grin.
No way! He said in unbelief.
I opened the bag and Wiffy poked her heard through.
The little boy was delighted, since he never saw a dog that small, she said.
What happened then? I asked her.
Well, the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, she said with a giggle.
The pastor came over and wanted to talk to me.
You’ve been bringing a dog to church all these years, and no one knew? He asked.
I never heard her, he said.
That’s because she was asleep, the woman told him.
She’s not the the only one, the pastor said.
Seems my sermons have that effect on people.
Then Jesus said to his disciples: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest? “Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well. (Luke 12:22-31)
Little Wiffy did not have a care in the world.
She was carried around by the woman whose heart was drawn to her.
She was fed and she was taken outside.
She was loved immensely.
How much more are we cared for by our Heavenly Father?
How much more does God, our Father, carry us in His loving arms?
How much more does our Father feed us?
How often do we fall asleep, content at His feet?
We are well loved.
We are cared for so tenderly.
We will look up one day and see our Father’s face.
All is well.
The story amazed me on Wednesday and amazed me today with your Bible scripture.It amazes me also
Thank you, Barb.
I am so glad you were there with me to hear it.
Gina
I think of the trust this little dog had in her mistress, to be carried around and stay quiet–most dogs wouldn’t be content to do this. But because of her love for her human mommy she rested comfortably and secure in the bag. We need to do the same with our Father in heaven.
Amen, Sue.
We need to be right at His feet.
One day, we will see His face.
Gina
God is lifted up yet again. Thank you, dear friend, for this sweet and steadfast reminder.
I am so glad you were blessed, Michelle.
I needed the reminder as well.
Gina