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Saw God in Judge

Judge is credited with entering the field over 280 times, assisting in the arrests of 152 people, the removal of three handguns from the streets, and he helped bring in over $47,000 in cash during his tenure.

When the 9-year old pup was diagnosed with Cushing’s Disease, his medical bills quickly built to over $10,000. The Woolwich Township allots $300 to the medical care of police animals. When the police station started a GoFundMe account for the little hero, $12,000 was raised in a single weekend and the battle was on.

Unfortunately, the disease finally caused a blockage in Judge’s liver that wouldn’t allow him to eat. Upon arriving at the vet Judge’s handler Mike Frank said that though he was weak “he knew Judge would be able to walk into the hospital once he’d taken a bite grip on a training “sleeve.” This was like a toy, or reward, for Judge. Several K-9 cops smiled and remarked that they knew Judge would be strong enough to walk in.”

John & Janet–MI

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Saw God in a Kidpreneur

Pat–Scottsdale, AZ

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Saw God at a Wedding


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Saw God in a Bridge

I may have lost a few fingers getting this, but I couldn’t pass it up on my way into work this morning. ‪#‎porthuron‬ ‪#‎bluewaterbridge‬ ‪#‎itscold‬ ‪#‎stclairriver‬


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Saw God in Mary

Look how the snow fell. It looks like Mary is carrying a person. What makes the image even more meaningful is that this statue is outside of a cancer hospital–Mercy Hospital, Council Bluffs.


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Saw God in the Winter Sands of Lake Michigan

St. Joseph, MI photographer Joshua Nowicki captured unusual formations on the sands of the Lake Michigan on Feb. 14, 2015. Heavy winds had carved their way through the frozen beach sand, leaving a miniature version of Utah’s famous sandstone formations, known as hoodoos. (Photo: Joshua Nowicki)


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Saw God at Dairy Queen

The kids are off all week for winter break. Many of our friends and family members have made the trip down South or out West for warmer weather. We are stuck here in Michigan for the duration and boy was it cold today. My thermometer actually said -17 degrees this morning. That was just the temperature. No wind chill was figured in with that figure. All day I was trying to warm up. I donned many layers of clothing, wore socks with my slippers, and had the fire burning all day. It was hard to get rid of the chill. Imagine my surprise when my husband announced after dinner that we were going to Dairy Queen. A hot cup of tea sounded a whole lot better than an scoop of ice cream right then. However we bundled up and headed out to get our Blizzards. Not surprising, when we arrived at DQ we were the only people in the place. We all got our ice cream and sat down to enjoy. There was a Ms. Pac-Man video game in the corner and the kids enjoyed watching their dad try to out run the ghosts while Ms. Pac-Man tried to eat as many tic-tacs as she could. We were laughing and having a great time. I never would have thought that eating ice cream on a frigid day would be so much fun!


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Saw God in a Channel


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Saws God in a Dog’s Search


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Saw God in a Dog

A True Story by Catherine Moore
out! You nearly broad sided that car!” My father yelled at me.
“Can’t you do anything right?”

Those words hurt worse
than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat
beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as
I averted my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for another

“I saw the car, Dad . Please don’t yell at me
when I’m driving..”

My voice was measured and steady,
sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at
me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front
of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts…..
dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The
rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What
could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in
Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and had
reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He
had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.
The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested
to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly.
The first time he couldn’t lift a heavy log, he joked about it;
but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift
it.. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his
advancing age, or when he couldn’t do something he had done as a
younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh
birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the
hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and
oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into
an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside
Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to
follow doctor’s orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned
aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned,
then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come
live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic
atmosphere would help him adjust.

Within a week after
he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was
satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated
and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We
began to bicker and argue.

Alarmed, Dick sought out
our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up
weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each
session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad’s troubled

But the months wore on and God was silent.
Something had to be done and it was up to me to do

The next day I sat down with the phone book and
methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in
the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the
sympathetic voices that answered in vain.

Just when I
was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, “I just
read something that might help you! Let me go get the

I listened as she read. The article
described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the
patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their
attitudes had proved dramatically when they were given
responsibility for a dog..

I drove to the animal
shelter that afternoon.. After I filled out a
questionnaire, a
uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant
stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained
five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black
dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied
each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too
big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in
the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the
front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog
world’s aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the

Years had etched his face and muzzle with
shades of gray. His hip bones jutted out in lopsided triangles.
But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and
clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the
dog. “Can you tell me about him?” The officer looked, then shook
his head in puzzlement. “He’s a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere
and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone
would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we’ve
heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.” He gestured

As the words sank in I turned to the man
in horror. “You mean you’re going to kill

“Ma’am,” he said gently, “that’s our policy. We
don’t have room for every unclaimed dog.”

I looked at
the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my
“I’ll take him,” I said. I drove home with the dog on the
seat beside me.. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice.
I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the
front porch…. “Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad !” I said

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in
disgust. “If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I
would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones.
Keep it! I don’t want it” Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned
back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me.. It
squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.
“You’d better get used to him, Dad. He’s

Dad ignored me.. “Did you hear me, Dad ?” I
screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched
at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood
glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer
pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down
in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his

Dad’s lower jaw trembled as he stared at the
uplifted paw confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer
waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate
friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and
Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down
dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of
streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend
Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyennelying
quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were
inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad’s bitterness
faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night
I was startled to feel Cheyenne ‘s cold nose burrowing through our
bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night.. I
woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father’s room. Dad lay
in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly
sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock
and grief deepened when I discoveredCheyenne lying dead beside
Dad’s bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept
on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I
silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring
Dad’s peace of mind.

The morning of Dad’s funeral
dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I
thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for
family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne
had made filling the church.. The pastor began his eulogy. It was
a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his

And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2.
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some
have entertained angels without knowing it.”

often thanked God for sending that angel,” he

For me, the past dropped into place, completing
a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that
had just read the right article… Cheyenne ‘s unexpected
appearance at the animal shelter .
…his calm acceptance and
complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their
deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my
prayers after all.


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