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| The Paw on the Bible |
In her small Memphis apartment, nestled between the sleepy hum of sunrise traffic and the steady drip of her coffee pot, Claire Allison lit the candle she saved for devotionals.
She wasn’t a morning person, but this ritual had become sacred over the past year—ever since she’d started working from home and felt her life begin to blur at the edges.
As she did each morning, Claire lit the lavender candle—the one she only used for devotionals because it made her feel disciplined and holy, even though she bought it on clearance.
After pouring her coffee into her favorite mug—the one that said Be Still, though nothing about her mornings ever was—she opened her Bible and settled into her favorite chair by the window where the morning light spilled in just right.
This was her time with God.
Or at least, it was supposed to be.
The first interruption came in the form of a wet nose pressed against her knee.
“Not now, Milo,” she whispered, lifting a finger like she was scolding a child in church.
Milo, her four-month-old golden retriever puppy, responded by wagging his entire body. Not his tail—his entire existence. He plopped down at her feet with a dramatic sigh, as if he’d been waiting all morning for her attention and she had cruelly delayed it for scripture.
She ignored him.
She had learned that lesson the hard way. Eye contact meant engagement, and engagement meant chaos.
She cleared her throat and read aloud, “Be still, and know that I am God…”
Milo barked.
Not aggressively. Not even loudly. Just one small, hopeful woof, like he was agreeing.
“Be still,” she repeated, firmer this time.
Milo interpreted this as an invitation to sit on her foot.
She tried again.
“Lord,” she prayed quietly, “I just want fifteen minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
Milo shifted. His paw landed squarely on her open Bible.
She froze.
There it was—his big, clumsy paw resting right across the page, right on top of the verse she’d been trying to read. He looked up at her with wide, earnest eyes, his mouth slightly open, tongue peeking out, tail thumping like a heartbeat.
They stared at each other.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
He licked her wrist.
She gently lifted his paw and set it back on the floor, smoothing the page again like before. She started over, determined not to let the puppy derail her spiritual discipline.
Two sentences in, Milo sneezed.
Then he pawed at her pajama pant leg.
Then he decided the Bible ribbon bookmark was a chew toy sent from heaven.
She sighed so deeply it felt like it came from her soul.
This was not how devotionals were supposed to go. They were supposed to be peaceful. Focused. Reverent. Instagram-worthy, if she was being honest. Not interrupted by fur and slobber and the unmistakable sound of a puppy discovering his own tail.
She closed her eyes.
“God,” she whispered, “please help me focus.”
Something warm pressed against her leg.
She opened her eyes to find Milo had curled himself into her lap—or as much of her lap as a growing puppy could manage. His head rested against her arm, his body heavy with trust. He let out a long, content sigh and went completely still.
Completely.
She couldn’t help but laugh.
Of course. Now he chose to be still.
She looked down at the Bible again. Her place was lost. The page slightly wrinkled. A faint smear of something—peanut butter, maybe—marked the corner. Her candle flickered like it was amused by the whole situation.
She considered giving up.
Instead, she did something different.
She wrapped one arm around Milo and read whatever verse her eyes landed on.
It was from Proverbs. Something about kindness. About instruction given in love. About wisdom not being loud, but gentle.
Milo shifted slightly, adjusting his head so it rested more comfortably against her chest. His breathing slowed. His paw, without ceremony, crept back onto the Bible.
This time, she didn’t move it.
Claire read on. There was no analyzing. No underlining. No rush to find an application or a takeaway. She just read. Slowly. Out loud. Letting the words settle wherever they wanted to land.
Milo slept.
And for the first time that morning, so did her hurry.
Her mind wandered—not away from God, but toward Him in a way that felt… different. Softer. Less about checking a box and more like sitting in a room together without needing to fill the silence.
She thought about how often she tried to schedule God the way she scheduled everything else. Fifteen minutes here. A prayer there. Quiet time squeezed between obligations like a meeting she didn’t want to miss but also didn’t want to linger in.
She looked down at the puppy in her arms—this needy, inconvenient, joy-filled creature who wanted nothing from her but presence.
Then it hit her.
Love interrupted her plans all the time.
Love was never tidy. Never quiet. Never efficient.
Love was a baby crying in the night. A phone call that couldn’t wait. A friend who needed to talk when she was exhausted. A puppy with a paw on her Bible.
She smiled.
“Is this what You’re teaching me?” she whispered.
Milo snored.
She stayed there longer than planned. The coffee grew cold. The candle burned low. The light shifted across the floor. She didn’t finish her reading plan. She didn’t journal a single word.
But she felt full.
Later that day, as she cleaned up shredded paper towels and rescued a sock from Milo’s mouth, she realized something else.
He hadn’t ruined her devotional time.
He had been part of it.
The love she felt for him—the patience she was learning, the grace she was practicing, the way her heart softened instead of hardened—those were lessons no commentary could teach.
She didn’t just learn the verse that morning—she lived it.
That night, she closed her Bible gently and set it on the table. Milo climbed beside her, rested his head against her arm again, and placed his paw on top of the cover.
She laughed.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I get it.”
Love doesn’t always wait quietly while we seek God.
Sometimes, love sits right on the page.
And sometimes, that’s the lesson.
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