Back in the sixties, there was a TV comedy show called, “That Was the Week That Was.”

We’ve just had such a week…but it wasn’t all that funny.

It began with a dog who wouldn’t eat.

Saturday night, while on a camping trip with family, she had snatched a corn cob and, before we had a chance to stop her, wolfed the whole thing down. Since she got very sick Sunday morning, we assumed she had passed it all.

She hadn’t.

Monday morning, she refused her breakfast, rolled around on the floor and seemed in obvious distress.

We rushed her to the vet’s where they put her under tests and observation. Sure enough, one piece of corncob was stuck in her intestine. By Tuesday, it was clear that our only option was surgery…with its attendant risks.

After a year of work, this spooky rescue dog had just started to come out of her shell. I had a flashback to last summer when our last dog was dying. Would we have to go through that pain all over again?

She came through the surgery fine but faced a two-week recovery period. That meant the trip we’d scheduled for this week would have to wait.

For more than one reason, as it happened.

For Wednesday, on a simple walk down the road, I stumbled, twisted my foot and broke the outer metatarsal bone. Camping, even in a nice new trailer, doesn’t work so well when one is hobbling around in a big clunky walking boot.

But TWTWTW wasn’t done.

Thursday night, the intestinal troubles that had been plaguing me all week kicked into overdrive. I became very, very sick. After an long evening in the emergency room, I was diagnosed with a “C diff” infection which had piggy-backed in after a dose of antibiotics.

Oh, my.

Suddenly we were looking at a very different summer from the one we had planned. Our summers here are so short! The disappointment hurts.

Now is the time to put fresh legs on a lesson I learned years ago: when God says “no” there is a reason. If I don’t get to go somewhere, I’m not supposed to be there. I may not understand the reason for a long time; I may not understand it ever. But I’ve learned my Father knows what He’s doing.

God’s plans for me are better than my plans for me. And He will work even bad things out for my good…if I can just trust Him.

As the new week begins, both the dog and I are on the mend. It remains to be seen what our summer will be but our times are in His hands.

And they will be okay.

Written July, 2017.