Our dog, Libby, came to live with us when she was a year old. We weren’t quite sure what we were getting, but the fact that she had been potty trained was very appealing as that seemed a rather daunting task to be added to our responsibilities. She actually became a part of our family rather seamlessly, like she had always been there. Occasionally I attempt to have a heart-to-heart talk with her, asking if she’s happy with us; if she’s glad she’s with us rather than with her family back at the kennel. She just looks at me like I’m stupid and presents me with her hind quarters to be scratched.

What I notice about Libby is this. From the moment she became ours, she knows my husband to be her master. She is absolutely attentive to his every move, every word. Each morning, at his slightest move to rise out of bed, she immediately is by his side. As he moves through the morning routine, she waits, watching. She responds to his movements and guages her own by his. She knows her needs will be met. They routinely exit the same door to go outside, but if he goes in another direction, she follows him without question. She trusts him implicitly. As he goes to the loft where he has his morning devotions, I watch her earnest brown eyes follow him up the stairs. She listens until she hears the familiar sound of the leather of his chair signify that he is actually sitting, then she runs up to sit at his feet.

I love watching all that because I see something in it to be learned. My Master is perfectly trustworthy. Are my eyes earnest toward Him? Am I attentive to His movements and guage my own to His? Do I balk when He goes through a different door than what I expect? Do I trust Him to provide all I need in His way? Am I eager to sit at His feet at every opportunity?