I certainly was not in the market for another dog. One 95-pound male golden retriever was quite enough, thank you. But I was very interested in finding a female the same beautiful red color, envisioning what adorable puppies they would produce.

It was Easter Sunday, and I was on my way to church, when I saw her. Beautiful, red, sleek lines, obviously well trained. How perfect would it be if she really were a she and she had not been spayed? I pulled over and asked the owner. Amazing…a red-haired, unspayed female. Was this a God thing, or what?! Visions of sunset-colored pups danced in my head.

Only one hitch–she was a runaway, and the adopted owner was looking for a good home for her. “No way,” I thought. “Double the food bill, double the vet bill, and double the amount of hair on my new furniture.” Ugh. Ain’t no way!”

Four hours later, we owned a new dog. Yep - a permanent addition to the Fitzpatrick family. Don’t ask me how it happened. I’m still dumbfounded. All I remember is taking my husband and son to see her–for discussion purposes only, of course–and the next thing I know, she’s in the car with us headed home.

Best mistake I ever made.

We call her Lady, because that’s exactly what she is. Sweet, gentle, affectionate, and prissy. All she needs is a tiara and a string of pearls, (accurate fashion statements of her truly feminine nature,) but since I have a real concern for pet owners that dress their animals up, we’ve settled for a multi-colored collar and a heart-shaped name tag.

And yes, she has stolen my heart. I couldn’t help it. She follows me from room to room, waits patiently for me outside closed doors, is thrilled when I walk in the house, and nuzzles me affectionately if I’m not giving her enough attention.

Recently, I went through a period of feeling like God was a long way off. A type of spiritual dryness, I suppose. I’ve walked with him long enough to know it’s not a forever thing, but it really stinks while you’re in it. I was lonely, directionless, and generally blah. I had run down the spiritual checklist of what to do when you find yourself in the desert: keep praying, keep reading your Bible, confess all your sins, forgive where needed, press in, persevere, etc., etc. Life was still very dry, so I ditched the checklist. It didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere, so I went back to blah. You know you’re a mess when every other sentence is, “Whatever.”

One afternoon, while still in my desert, I was sitting in my favorite chair, drinking a cup of tea and staring out the window, when I felt a familiar wet-nosed nuzzle. Lady wanted some attention, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was lost in, “Where is God?” and “What have I done wrong?” and “Why does this spiritual stuff have to be so hard?”

She wasn’t happy with my neglect. I tried to pacify her with a pat on the head and a quick scratch behind the ear, but forget it. She wanted ME. The next thing I know, there she is in the chair with me, but not sitting nicely beside me. She’s in my face, straddling me with her front paws as if to say, “I’m here, and I’m not going away.”

Obviously, it worked. How can you possibly ignore something so insistent and so full of love? You can’t. And neither can God. At least, that’s what I learned from Lady.

Life isn’t going to be a “bask-in-his-presence-every-day” experience. But I have a choice. I can sit back and analyze why not, try harder, condemn myself for not being spiritual enough, be mad at God, consider giving the whole intimacy thing up for good, or–…I can crawl in his lap, come face to face and eye to eye with him, and refuse to be neglected.

Funny thing is, I never was. Neglect is not in God’s vocabulary. It’s only how we feel from time to time, and feelings cannot always be trusted. Only love is trustworthy. Especially the love of God.

Our Father is passionate about communicating his unrelenting love, and I’ve learned he’s not fussy about his messengers. He’ll use a book, a movie, the graphics on a T shirt, a rainbow, a butterfly, a total stranger.

Or even a sunset-colored dog named Lady.

I didn’t want another dog. But I gave my heart away, when I realized how much she loves to be with me. I couldn’t help myself.

Neither can God.