Monday, March 16, 2026

Called Back

Read Psalm 25:4-5

David and I took a trip to Ludington last Fall with the dogs. It’s a charming little town with beautiful views of Lake Michigan and its dunes. We were looking for somewhere that we could let our dogs, Jax and Scout, off-leash for some doggie fun time, and were directed about 20 miles out of town to Nordhouse Dunes Wilderness Area.

There were some great hiking trails that ended up at the Lake Michigan shoreline. The hike was through a lovely forested area, and Scout had a wonderful time leaping around and sniffing everything. He especially liked tearing through the woods off the path and rooting through the underbrush searching for critters. Jax, older and wiser, stayed by our side and followed the trail, but Scout would completely disappear for a while when he caught a scent that interested him. We would call for him repeatedly, and eventually he seemed to always find his way back, even though the route was often circuitous.

Our Christian journey can be similar. Sometimes we follow the path, but often we stray and need to be called back. If we listen carefully, God will always find a way to remind us of our true mission of living out the Gospel of Jesus and bring us back to the righteous path.

Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank you for your many blessings including those pets we love. Help us to follow your way of light and love even when we lose our way. Amen.

Sue DeWitt

Monday, March 9, 2026

Thank God For Dogs

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” – James 1:17

While I know most people who’ve lived a few years tend to refer to their lives in decades, I tend to organize mine in “dogcades.” I’ve always relied on companionship from “man’s best friend” and thanks be to God for supplying that companionship!

As a young child I grew up on a small farm and Lassie was our dog who lived in the barn and followed us all around as we played outside in the forest, creek and fields. She was a gentle Shetland sheep dog and like the iconic “Lassie” she watched over my little sister and me as we played with the goats and built dams in the creek.

When I was ten I got my first Golden Retriever puppy. Dee-O-Gee (I didn’t make that up, the lady we got him from had named his father that and because we loved the father dog we used the name) became my 4-H project. I learned how to obedience train a dog and I worked diligently with Dee-O-Gee in all my spare time. He was my confidant. My best friend and collector of my tears. It was Dee-O-Gee I poured out my troubles to in the barn. I had to leave him during the school year to attend years 1-3 of college but when I was a senior and got an apartment, Dee-O-Gee finally came with me. A year later he got married with me and moved to Michigan. A year after that he moved to our first house with us. Dee-O-Gee was my best friend and won the heart of my husband, too until he was 15 and I was 25. When Dee-O-Gee finally finished his time on Earth, I did not think I could go on without him. I vowed I would never have another dog as my young self was positive that would be the way to avoid the terrible heart ache I felt when I lost him.

Three months later, one of my kindergarten students got a Golden puppy and I knew I had to have one after holding hers.

This began the age of Semper Fi. No I wasn’t a Marine as many people asked, just sentimental and still missing Dee-O-Gee when I named my new baby. He came on Palm Sunday. We had to miss one of my favorite Sundays in church to go get him. We had Semper Fi for just one year — a beautiful year of puppy-hood — before the human babies began coming. Semper Fi adapted and welcomed Christopher, then Claire and finally Curt. We did everything together and Semper was mine and my children’s best friend and then it happened again. The end of an era and my broken-hearted kids had to be shown (and so did I) that life goes on.

Twelve days later we welcomed baby Aurora. Aurora followed my kids through the woods and went crazy when they learned to water ski—just convinced they were in trouble out there in the water away from the boat. And as they grew into teens and tested the waters, Aurora absorbed my tears and heard my fears. While God was in my heart and on my mind and directing my steps, Aurora was the soft and gentle companion provided by the Father to walk (figuratively and literally) some lonely and hard paths alongside me. We ran 5 miles each morning in the dark until one morning she could not and I discovered she had lung cancer. It was 2020 and I cried out to God please don’t take her away from me now Lord. But the Lord works in mysterious ways. In some of the longest months of my life, we were dog-less as we waited for a relative of Aurora’s to be bred. We had the hope of a puppy, but who knew when. After four long months another puppy became available. Two Goldens? I’d never had two dogs at once!

How would they both fit in my Kayak like Aurora had? How would TWO dogs run alongside me on my early morning runs? I realized this was God’s double restoration... his “double portion” and I began this new dogcade of life with Iris in April and Belle coming in June. Two tiny sharks chewing up everything in sight. Two puppies to house train. Two babies for the children (all home from college or confined from high school by COVID) and me to love. And they both creatively fit in the kayak and they both run alongside for the early morning runs.

I don’t know how to thank God enough for teaching me to love his creation of the dog and for sending each precious furry life to accompany me on this journey to do God’s work here on Earth. Each “dogcade” has been precious and unique.

Prayer: Dear God, You know what is best for us. Each loving companion you have sent to walk alongside me in life is proof of that. Make us grateful for your beautiful and perfect gifts, Lord. Amen

Sandy Cameron

Monday, February 23, 2026

I Know it’s Not the Iditarod

Read: 1 Peter 5:1-11

Maybe it was the cold – the unending cold. Maybe it was the snow – the snow that just wouldn’t melt away. Maybe it was just me that day.

Whatever the reason, I was getting really annoyed at Billie on our walk, as she stopped every few yards (at least that’s how it felt at the time), licking at the snow that had built up between her toes. “That’s what happens when you lick all the cream off your feet before we even get outside,” I told her, and not in a very kind tone I will confess.

After several stops, I realized how crabby and unkind I was being, and tried to be nicer as I helped her get the snow out of her feet. Being a dog, Billie has an amazing ability to forgive and forget, so I got those great thankful looks and tail-wags even though I hadn’t deserved them to start with.

Last year she gave me a lesson from Romans, but this year I think she was reading one of Paul’s other letters:
Don’t worry about stuff, just keep asking your Dad to help, and keep wagging your tail for him while you ask. – Philippians 4:6 CSV (Canine Standard Version)

Well, that’s a really good admonition, and it makes me stop to thank God that He’s not like I was that day. When I come to God with my needs and requests – in thanksgiving – I know He isn’t saying, “O great, Charlie needs help again,” or “Come on, Charlie, I’m already doing that for you.” Knowing that makes me want to work at being more like Jesus, reaching out in love to those who are in need.

One thing Billie has to be thankful for is that I’ve gotten much better at applying the cream to her feet before we go walk in the snow. The stuff is called Musher’s Secret, and it really works well – when it’s properly applied, that is. We haven’t had a snow-filled foot in a long time, now. (If you have a dog and I hadn’t already told you about this stuff, I apologize. It’s great and Billie highly recommends it.)

Prayer: Thank you, Father, for the lessons we learn from each other, and from all of your creatures. May we continue to grow closer to the image of Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit in us and through us. Amen.

Charlie van Becelaere

Saturday, February 27, 2021

Without Words

Read UM Hymnal #454, verse 2

When we adopted our dog, Jax, from Grosse Pointe Animal Clinic, Heidi told us that Dr. Herzog said, “Jax always has to have the last word.” Boy, was he right!

Jax is definitely the most vocal dog we've ever had. I'm not sure if it's the collie in him or just his temperament. Jax has vocalizations for all occasions. There's the “someone has dared to walk on my sidewalk” bark, the “UPS or mail carrier is here – should I chase them away?” crazy bark, and the “I think that squirrel is trespassing” even crazier bark.

There's also a grand series of groans – tired, stretching, or getting a back rub. There's also play talk – tug of war fake growls and “throw this toy for me” barking. He has special yips for the people he loves to see, and crying and whining when he's left behind alone. All these vocalizations are without actual words, but we understand his intent.

I was thinking about our own communications with God. When we pray, sometimes we're answered with a feeling inside. I've had occasions when I'm compelled to do something; maybe by that voice in my head – God's calling me without words, but just as effectively. I think we all need to listen with our hearts as well as our ears, and perhaps the answers we seek will materialize.

Prayer request: Dogs and those who love them

Sue DeWitt