It’s been 3 years since I’ve blogged and even re-homed it.

I dusted off this blog because I’m back to share how the Lord keeps showing up in my life through dogs and other animals. God has this knack for using creation to speak to us when humans fall short, or when we just need a break from them. Sometimes, I need a break from myself!

A Moment with Winston is All I Need

Take my Miniature Donkey, Winston, for example. On days when the world feels like a dumpster fire, I grab Winston and head to the field. His strong presence and stoicism calms my spirit better than sitting in silence by myself. Sometimes, he does things to make me laugh so hard, like using his lips to turn the volume knob on the radio louder and quieter. Those moments full of peace, laughter, and a breeze that reminds me that I’m alive are what I call salvific. If “salvation” means resurrection, then these are my mini-resurrections. They’re like my pit stops for healing. Through work, prayer, play, and rest, I keep re-learning to pause and soak in these moments with God’s creation. And let me tell you, even my dog, Twig, has a thumping nub that’s the ultimate wingman.

Dogs, Stillness, and Listening for the Lord’s Voice

I’m beyond grateful for our dogs: Willow, Aspen, Twig, and the parade of dogs (and other critters) in my life. They help me reach that sweet spot of stillness where I can hear God’s voice. On my own, let’s be honest, my brain defaults to overdrive. Busyness acts like kryptonite for contemplation.

I love experiencing God in practical, daily life, but don’t quite like the word “mysticism” (it sounds like I’m about to pull a rabbit out of a hat). At the same time, I understand Christian mysticism as having a God-moment or experience. I’ve heard God’s soft voice, felt the “hand of God” in my life, and received a spiritual knack for “knowing.” Because of this, I practice living mindfully, chasing God’s presence like Twig would chase a rabbit.

The Seasons of Ministry

Back in 2020, after a seven-year break from vocational ministry as a chaplain, I realized something big. I’d spent those years living as a “civilian,” surrounded by people who didn’t know my past and thought my do-gooder vibes were some kind of scam. Compassion fatigue and PTSD had forced me to step back, and I needed that break to heal. But it wasn’t until I joined the Doctorate of Ministry program at Lipscomb that I could put words to what I’d learned. When the program director asked, “Why do you want to be here?” I said confidently, “After years in the ‘real world,’ I’ve learned there’s no place for me unless I’m in ministry.” Without the chaplain’s cross on my uniform or the title “chaplain” in a hospital, people didn’t get why I cared so much. They assumed I had an ulterior motive.

So, I pursued re-ordination through the Federation of Christian Ministries, swapping my military rank of Major and hospital badge for a white minister’s collar. It felt as if God handed me a spiritual glow-up, complete with healing and grace. Now, I’m growing in wisdom and, here’s the fun part, creativity. Why creativity? Because God’s creation is the ultimate therapy. Leaning into the joy of dogs, cats, horses, and even our sassy donkeys has been a game-changer. They offer spiritual gifts like unconditional love and the ability to live in the moment (a serious flex for someone with PTSD).

When I started our business and, years later, handed it over to Jenny, “A Dog’s Utopia,” I had no idea it would become like a spiritual portal. Caring for customers’ dogs helped me rediscover my ability to care for God’s people.

Every wagging tail and slobbery kiss reminds me of the deep love God calls me to share. Those furry goofballs became my bridge back to ministry, one belly rub at a time.

So, here’s to more walks in the field and chances to see God in the most unexpected places.