By Ronnie McBrayer

Our three boys were playing football in the backyard this winter when one of them called to me with words I could have never anticipated. Casually, as if he were making a weather observation, he said, “Dad…the dog is on the roof.” I exploded onto the upper deck to discover that my son was alarmingly correct.

Toby, our new little Shih Tzu, had inexplicably crawled beneath the deck railing and was 15 feet across a pitched metal roof, two stories off the ground. I was horrified. My dear wife was worse, deranged with panic. I understood that if this disaster were not averted, I did not have enough pastoral skill, fatherly wisdom, Valium, or hard liquor to assuage the suffering.

So, with the boys in place below, ready to exercise their burgeoning football catching skills, my hand firmly holding my wife by the belt loops at the railing, and aiming every prayer at heaven I could muster, I gently called, “Toby…come here, boy.” He loped over to me as if it was a day at the dog park, and tragedy was dodged.

As crazy as this story is, here is the craziest thing of all: while our entire family mobilized to protect and save this precious little dog, Toby was completely, totally, and blissfully unaware of our efforts. Hands were shaking. Tears were forming. Railings were being scaled. Catch nets were being weaved. Meanwhile, he was sniffing leaves, enjoying the view, and inspecting the strange metal floor beneath his feet.

Toby doesn’t understand this, but he doesn’t have to; he simply lives a dog’s life in the loving arms of those who always look out for him. Sometimes I perceive God working the same way. I sense him hanging in the atmosphere around us; ethereal, intangible, but very real. Occasionally, I glimpse him lurking within and brooding over the circumstances of life, sometimes gently calling, but most of the time just ready to catch us when we fall; or to save us from ourselves when we’ve crawled too far out on the ledge. Even while our well-being is in jeopardy, we are enfolded by a protecting love.

Yes, I believe there is a mysterious, unseen, hovering God in the universe that we cannot always understand, see, or otherwise tangibly perceive. But we know he is there. His enveloping love for us is very real, and yes, it is very good.

Ronnie McBrayer is a syndicated columnist, speaker, and author of multiple books. You can read more and receive regular e-columns in your inbox at www.ronniemcbrayer.net.

News department
All the news is bad. Going straight to the jokes:

Dog department
A guy is driving around the back roads of Montana and sees a sign in front of a broken-down house: “Talking Dog For Sale.” He rings the bell. The owner appears and tells him the dog is in the backyard.
The guy walks into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador retriever. “You talk?” he asks.
“Yep,” replies the Lab.
It takes the guy a minute or two to recover from the shock of hearing a dog talk.
“Well,” answers the Lab, “I was pretty young when I discovered I could talk. I notified the CIA about it and they quickly offered me a job. They had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.
“For eight years I was one of their most valuable agents. But the jetting around tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger. It was time for a change. The airport hired me to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals.
“Then I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I’m just retired.”
The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.
“Ten bucks,” says the owner.
“Ten bucks? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?”
“Because he’s a liar,” says the owner. “He’s never been out of the backyard.”

Advice department
A man goes to see his rabbi. “Rabbi, something terrible is happening and I have to talk with you about it.”
“What’s wrong?” says the rabbi.
“My wife is poisoning me,” answers the man.
Surprised, the rabbi asks, “How do you know?”
“I’m telling you she’s poisoning me!” says the man, obviously distressed. “I’m absolutely certain about it. What should I do?”
“Tell you what,” offers the rabbi. “Let me talk to her. I’ll see what I can find out and let you know.”
A week later, the Rabbi calls the man. “I spoke with your wife,” he says. “I spoke with her on the phone for three hours. You wanted to know what you should do, is that right?”
“Yes!” says the man. The rabbi looks him straight in the eye and says, “Take the poison.”

Dog department, continued
Entering a small country store, a stranger noticed a sign that said, “Danger, beware of the dog” posted on the door. Inside, he noticed a harmless old hound dog asleep on the floor beside the cash register.
“Is this the dog folks are supposed to beware of?” he asked the proprietor.
“Yep, that’s him,” came the reply.
The stranger couldn’t help but smile. “That certainly doesn’t look like a dangerous dog to me. Why the sign?”
“Because,” the owner explained, “Before I put up that sign, people kept tripping over him.”