Lessons from Charles

By Paul Pinkham

Alone, depressed, hopeless, and unwantedthese were the emotions that defined me in the aftermath of divorce and death that had turned my world upside down.

And then into my life bounced an abandoned little puppy, rescued from the shoulder of a busy interstate highway, where he had been thrown from a car. He looked like I felt: discarded and beat up by life.

But from the moment he bounded through my front door, Charles began teaching me valuable lessons about life, recovery, and finding joy again. From his story, I began writing a new chapter of my own life, one of hope and restoration, healing and forgiveness, love and kindness. His lessons continued as new love bloomed and blossomed, and his story became our story. It is my hope that what Charles taught us will resonate with you, no matter where you are in this crazy journey we call life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspiring Voices
• Release date: Jun 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781462409730

Paul Pinkham

Paul Pinkham is an award-winning journalist who has worked at newspapers in Kansas, Texas, South Carolina, and Florida. He is now in his second career as an investigator. Paul and his wife, Beth, live with their beloved Charles in Jacksonville, Florida, where Paul leads worship for Celebrate Recovery.

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Copyright © 2014 Paul Pinkham.

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ISBN: 978-1-4624-0972-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4624-0973-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014908755

Inspiring Voices rev. date: 06/02/2014

In memory of my grandmother,

SUSAN MILLS,

who gave me my love of dogs

and taught me to love Jesus.

Contents

God Loves Mutts

When All Seems Lost

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Prayer Time

The Prodigal Dog

The Postman Never Rings, Not Once

Irrational Fear

Please Forgive Me

Our Own Protection

Why Can’t I Be A Squirrel?

Morning Dog

Unconditional Love

Bibliography

Acknowledgements

T here are so many people who supported me through my journey of healing and who helped me to see, sometimes without even realizing it, the lessons God was teaching me through Charles. Without them, none of this would have been poss ible.

First and foremost, my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. You paid it all for me even though You knew how often I would let You down. There aren’t words in human language to ever thank You enough for Your love and sacrifice.

To my dear, sweet wife, Beth, who loved and supported me throughout the years it took to collect these memories of our Charles, your input was invaluable. Thank you for loving me.

To our son Shane, whose special relationship with Charles sparked so many of these memories, thank you.

And my in-laws, Gene and Sally Bedford, provided steady encouragement as I wrote about their grand-dog.

My mother, Peggy Pinkham, went home to be with Jesus during the writing of this manuscript but was always supportive of my efforts. I love you, Mom. Thank you for raising me right.

To my daughter, Casie Williams, your love and support have been unwavering since the beginning. Thank you.

My brothers in Christ, John Timpe and Ken Cooper, along with Ken’s wife June, reviewed this manuscript early on and made important suggestions but more importantly, inspired me to keep writing when I wasn’t sure where I was headed.

Patrick Duncan and John Furness led me on those first halting steps of recovery. Your friendship will always be treasured in my heart. And my lifelong friend, Jim Schoettler, you have always been there for me, even when I pushed you away.

Because I moved around so much during my journalism career, the Lord has blessed me with a number of pastors and teachers who have helped shepherd me. Many of their insights have no doubt found their way into these lessons. They include Jim Morris, Joe Turner, Gabe Goodman, Erling Larson, Carmen Johns, Jeff Bennett, Jean Mullis, Jerry Sweat, Tim Machtel, Joby Martin, Anne and Don Bloch, Lee Brookins, Flint McLaughlin, Aaron Ankeny, Steve McCoy, Tina Trent and Howard McMinn. I want to make special mention of John and Terri Hill, who walked the initial steps of this journey with me and went out of their way to counsel me when I was at my lowest.

I have been blessed to have helped lead worship for Celebrate Recovery for many years. Thanks to all my CR family and especially my bandmates in 3 Blocks West. You have all been key to my healing.

My newspaper family at The Florida Times-Union walked much of this journey with me. Though I am not with you any more, you will always be part of my story.

To all my advisors at Inspiring Voices, thank you for all your suggestions, input and assistance.

There are numerous others who have encouraged and inspired me, too numerous to name. Thank you.

God Loves Mutts

M y dog Charles doesn’t look like much.

He’s just a scrappy little reddish-brown mutt, 25 pounds of tail-wagging energy. He’s bow-legged, missing two front teeth and has no pedigree, at least not that I know of. He has perky, pointed ears and a natural furrow to his brow that gives him a perpetually inquisitive look, whether he intends it or not, and a curly-q tail that makes him appear joyful and ready to play.

He also has a sweet, loving spirit. He’s just as comfortable snuggling as he is running around the yard.

His favorite activities are sleeping, eating and jumping on the furniture—in about that order.

Charles probably would flunk obedience school, and he’ll certainly never win the Westminster Dog Show.

But God has used Charles to teach me and my loved ones innumerable and sometimes startling lessons about life, love and His eternal promises. And I’m convinced He brought Charles into my life for just that purpose.

Two friends rescued Charles along a busy interstate highway, where he’d been thrown from a car and abandoned. He was a wreck. Bleeding from the mouth, covered with open sores and mange, trembling with fear, snarling at anyone who came near.

Funny, that’s about how I felt when they gave him to me—alone, abandoned, fearful and utterly hopeless.

To put it mildly, I’d had some setbacks in my life. The end of my 14-year marriage left me alone, broken and nearly broke. I lost my pension, my car and my life savings. I was left with an empty house, bitter memories and an oppressive silence. I wandered from room to room, unable to even pray, fearful that an unanswered prayer would shatter what little faith I had left.

My hopes for the future seemed to perish, too. No growing old together. No joyful holidays with the kids. Friends who once seemed close turned their