Contentment and a Lapful of Puppies
by Carol Mason Shrader

Last week we moved our youngest to college, and I did the only thing a mother who now has four adult children can do: I rescued a dog…to add to the other two dogs we already have.

Now y’all should know that I made huge overtures this summer about absolutely NOT getting another dog. “Two is plenty,” I told my family. Two is all we need.

Then I started following a nearby rescue organization because my oldest daughter is moving into a house where she can finally have her own dog, so of course I thought I would be on the lookout for her. You know, I would be a help to her. Of course.

And so it happened that one week before move-in day for my baby, I saw a dog that seemed to need me. I looked at my husband and said I think I will fill out this application. My dog-loving hubby told me to go right ahead. I chose to ignore the smirk on his face that said, “I knew we would end up with another dog.”

The woman in charge at the rescue called me early the next morning. She said she loved my application but that the little dog I had applied to rescue had plenty of applications. However, she had another similar breed dog that didn’t and hoped we would consider being his adoptive family.

Little Roo had been surrendered to their care very, very near death. He had been starved, left in a crate, and couldn’t even walk up the stairs to his foster mom’s door when he came to her. She thought people were afraid of him because he wasn’t as fluffy as the cute little dog I applied for but she thought our home seemed perfect for him.

It took us mere minutes to say yes. I sent photos to every member of the family so I knew they were all on board. The speed with which they replied was record-setting (Clearly, the way to get adult children to respond is to send dog pics!). So, two days later, we brought this one-year-old skinny, shaved-almost-bare Labradoodle home.

From the first minute Roo met us, he jumped into our laps, brought us his toys, licked our faces. He drops his ball at our feet and sits patiently waiting for us to throw it so he can faithfully catch it and return it to our feet. One week in, he lays his head on my pillow at night and sighs this deep contented sigh right before falling asleep. (Yes, he prefers to be face to face…don’t judge me.)

As I listen to him breathe, I marvel at how this young puppy who has endured so much can be as happy, as content, as he is.

As I marvel, I realize that far too often I fail to trust the One who has never been anything BUT trustworthy. I fail to rest in the contentment of knowing the God who created me, loves me and provides for me. I fail to live in the contentment of that knowledge.

Since this is true of me, I need to say to you discontentment is not attractive. Discontentment can poison everything you touch.

Every time I read the Israelites’ story in the Old Testament, I want to throw something at them. I mean, they had manna being provided for them—provided right there in their front yard. No groceries, no gardening, just a gift. Yet, they whined. They wanted some meat. So, God gave them meat—quail. No hunting involved. Just right there again, on their front stoop, WITH the manna.

Dear ones, as someone who hates coming up with a meal plan, I think this sounds pretty good. I mean, I think this sounds like, well, it sounds like a gift from heaven! Yet, there were still those among the Israelites who complained, who refused to follow the instructions of how much to gather and when. There was no doubt a level of complaining, whining and pouting about the lack of variety in their diet. The gifts of provision were just not making them content.

Oh how I hate it when those Israelites start looking all too familiar.

Please, my friends, hear me when I tell you that discontentment is a poison. Because we are a fickle people­—the Israelites had nothing on us—we are forever certain that the grass is greener. We whine and cry and pout and make everyone around us absolutely miserable in our discontent.

A few years ago, Wade and I had the privilege of visiting Rome. While there we went to the prison cell where Paul wrote Philippians. The cell was very small and with water trickling through the rocks, very wet. The tiny slot on the top of the wall could hardly be described as a window so light was very limited. Are you following me? There was not a drop of comfort in that cell. Not a semblance of luxury. Nothing that would make sense of the verses Paul wrote from there:

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content” (Philippians 4:11, ESV).

Dear ones, did you get that? He was writing from a dark, dank prison cell when he said he could be content in any situation.

How in the world does he manage that sort of contentment, when sitting in my more-than-comfortable home with central heat and air, all manner of electrical appliances, comfy chairs and the best bed ever, I whine, pout and sound more like the Israelites than I dare admit?

Paul makes it very clear how he does it. Very clear.

“I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:12-13, ESV).

Paul’s secret will work for us. We can choose contentment through Jesus. I am not saying that we will never want to change our circumstances, but I am saying we can choose to be content wherever God has placed us in this season. You can find contentment during those medical school years, through Jesus’ help. You can be content a thousand miles from home during residency years when your husband is working crazy hours, through Jesus’ help. You can wrestle the demon of discontent when training is over and your closest friends (or young adult children) scatter around the globe, through Jesus’ help.

With Roo curled in my lap, I marvel that this beautiful boy didn’t wait for us to prove worthy of his trust. He dove right into loving us. He dove right into expecting the best from us. Even though his life was a testimony to the fact that humans cannot always be trusted.

Today, I am praying for you to expect the best from God. I am asking you to remember He can be trusted. I am asking you to choose contentment through faith in the One who can absolutely meet your needs.

Blessings,
Carol

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Carol Mason Shrader lives in Delaware with her wonderful Wade, a pediatric orthopedic surgeon, their THREE pups, and a revolving door of four children who come in and out as they need. She is grateful that her newest pup decided to rescue her and remind her of the importance of contentment.