This is a true story of how God used a stray dog to show an atheist His love and the way to Him.

In the summer of 2001, my world fell apart. My worst fear at the time was coming true right before my tear-blinded eyes: my husband and soul mate of nearly 13 years was leaving me. It was literally my worst fear coming true – worse than rape, worse than drowning, worse than death. I had no god, there was no heaven or hell or spiritual realm in my world. My life revolved around this man, and in my mind, we were made for each other and I loved him with every fiber of my being. How the situation had come to this was completely beyond my understanding. I couldn’t comprehend how he thought that there was a better life somewhere out there than the one we shared. And yet he was packing his bags.

We had only moved to Nashville in 1999, and I didn’t have a great many friends yet. Those who I told about my divorce were appropriately sad and apologetic, but uncomfortably didn’t know what to say. My family members reactions ranged from “gosh, I’m sorry, dear”, to “good riddance, he wasn’t good enough for you anyway,” none of which were helpful to me. It became clear to me that people just don’t have the tools to help each other most of the time. I had nowhere to turn; I felt like no one was there for me.

On a hot July day when my soon-to-be ex was out to take a load of belongings to his new apartment, I sat in the living room of our condo in Ashland City staring at the wall, mind numb. A soft sound at my front door, like something had lightly bumped up against it, brought me temporarily back to the present. I looked at the door, not sure if I had really heard something, and then I heard it again – a soft bump on the door. The curiosity got me out of my stupor for a minute, and I got up to crack the door open to see what was there. On the doorstep was a yellow dog, sitting looking up at me. A flea-infested, tick-ridden, dirty, smelly yellow dog. I sighed, and shut the door. ...