It's all in a word

One of the most interesting essay questions I recall from my daughter's college application days was, "What is your favorite word and why?" When she said her favorite word was "paste," I encouraged her to move on. However, the question stuck with me and I've often found myself pondering, what is my favorite word and why?

Over the years, many beautiful words have come to mind... believe, love, dream, faith, hope...but it wasn't until last week in a hotel parking lot in a small town in North Carolina that I finally discovered my favorite word and why.

When our family dog died in March, I vowed I would never get another dog. After all, no dog could ever be as good as our precious girl. Not to mention, I was finally free to travel without worrying about who would take care of her. I could leave the house without counting the number of hours I had been out. And, at last, I could get a good night's sleep without a care of getting up to let her out.

However, my freedom came with a price. Sure, I didn't have any worries about a dog but I began to realize I didn't have any of the joy that comes from one either.

When I left the house, a dog wasn't there to look at me sadly as if to say, "Please don't leave me. I need you." When I came home, a dog wasn't there to excitedly greet me and seem to say, "Where have you been? You've been gone so long. I've missed you so much."

A dog wasn't there to say to me, "I adore you. You look beautiful even without your makeup on and I just love that 10 year old sweatshirt you're wearing." Or, "Wow, that meatloaf was excellent. You're a great cook. You're just the best at everything." The unconditional love and devotion from a dog was gone.

Fortunately, my husband was feeling the same way and the search began. I knew I didn't want a puppy and hoped to find a rescue dog. For months, I combed rescue websites until finally,  I found the one. She was with a rescue group in North Carolina and I would pick her up on my way home from visiting my family in the south.

But things don't always work out like we plan. The day before I left home, the foster mother called to say my dog had gone to another family who had inquired about her first. I was crushed. Just in case, I packed the crate in the back of my car hoping the adoption wouldn't work out.

As I sat on my sister's front porch in South Carolina, my cell phone rang. It was the foster mom. I anxiously answered thinking I was getting my girl after all. But, no. She was calling about a new rescue. The perfect weight, the perfect color, the perfect age, the perfect breed but it was a boy. She asked me to open my heart to a boy and sent pictures in an email. As soon as I saw his picture, I felt attached.

I headed north on Friday to a small town in North Carolina to meet the little guy. The foster mom met me at the Holiday Inn Express 40 minutes off of my route toward home. When he hopped down from her car, he immediately came to me and sat down. Our connection was instant.

From the very first moment, I knew this dog was meant for us. Our bond was obvious. And that's when the foster mom said, "I believe in providence." I should have known the meaning of the word. After all, I was born in Providence Hospital. I knew it meant something close to another wonderful word, serendipity. And it did.

Merriam-Webster defines providence as: a) divine guidance or care b) capitalized- God conceived as the power sustaining and guiding human destiny.

From the time he jumped in my car and crawled into his crate, he gazed at me as if to say, "We were meant to be together. Thanks for finding me." I have found the perfect dog and along the way I've discovered my favorite word and why. I believe in Providence.

We were meant to be.