Finding Sanctuary: When Healing Takes an Unexpected Form

Hope Infusion Newsletter - January 12, 2025 Edition

Opening Reflection

In our last newsletter, we explored the moment when long-held illusions shatter, making way for new truth. This week, we turn to what comes after - how we find healing in unexpected places, and how sometimes our greatest blessings arrive disguised as disruptions to our carefully laid plans.

A Miracle in Fur: How a Rescue Dog Rescued Us

“If you let me get a dog, I’ll get better.”

The words came from my 58-year-old husband, but what I saw and heard was his inner 8-year-old, pleading for a companion with floppy ears and a wagging tail.

Months of unanswered medical questions had left us both drained. After 18 doctors, countless tests, and no clear answers, his plea carried the weight of desperation. And though I was hesitant—imagining chewed furniture, muddy paw prints, and endless vet visits—I said yes.

A reluctant yes, but one laced with hope.

When we walked into the Atlanta Humane Society, we weren’t sure what to expect. But Wahoo was the very first dog we saw. She sat quietly in her cage, her soft brown eyes full of something I can only describe as knowing.

I lowered myself to the floor and looked her in the eye. “Do you want to come home with us?”

She raised one paw in response, placed it gently over my hand, and sealed the deal.

From the moment we brought her home, something shifted.

At the time, my husband had been experiencing seizure-like episodes that had stolen his summer. Each week, their intensity and frequency had increased, leaving us searching for answers in vain. But as Wahoo settled into our lives, something miraculous began to occur.

For every week she was with us, his episodes lessened. By week four, they had nearly disappeared. And then, as mysteriously as they had come, they were gone!

There’s no lab test to prove that Wahoo was the cure. But watching her nuzzle his hand, lick his face, and wag her tail in response to his laughter, I knew that she was exactly what he needed.

Wahoo became his healer, his therapist, his constant companion. She offered the kind of medicine no prescription could replicate—pure, unconditional love.

Pet ownership wasn’t in our plans. But sometimes, the things we don’t plan for are the things we need most.

Wahoo’s arrival marked a new beginning for us—a pivot from despair toward hope, from uncertainty toward joy. Her scruffy little presence reminded us that healing doesn’t always come in the ways we expect.

Some healing comes through connection. Through touch. Through a wagging tail and a paw on your knee.

As we step into a new year, I find myself reflecting on all the ways endings and beginnings are intertwined. For us, the loss of answers from doctors opened the door to something different: the arrival of a dog who didn’t just join our family but transformed it.

It’s a reminder that sometimes, healing begins with a reluctant yes.

If you’ve been searching for a new beginning, I hope you find your Wahoo—whatever form it takes.

Because love, in all its forms, has the power to heal!

Sacred Pause: The Art of Paying Attention

Sometimes the most profound healing comes not from doing more, but from doing less - from learning to be still enough to hear wisdom in unexpected places. In this spirit, I share these words written beneath my own oak trees, in the company of my own four-legged teacher:

Decontaminating Consciousness

The outside world is a churning machine of constant urgency, consumed with breaking news and broken promises. But in my front yard sanctuary, I practice the radical act of paying attention, NOT to noise that fractures, but to silence that mends.

In this sacred space…
My lawn chair is an altar,
My dog is a fellow pilgrim,
The oak trees — my witnesses.

I’m learning to UNhook from narratives
that do not serve my wellbeing,
UNraveling tight knots of anxiety,
thread by stressful thread.

Beneath the oak trees,
I remember another language:
the dialect of rustling leaves,
the syntax of bird song,
the grammar of simple presence.

It’s is not an escape.
It’s a restoration!
I’m decontaminating consciousness,
NOT by closing my eyes, but by opening them WIDER.

I’m looking beyond the immediate,
sensing the unseen networks that connect us, 
The web of hope that runs DEEPER than any headline.
When the storms come — and they ARE coming — look for me in Nature.

Rooted.
Awake.
Unbroken.
Choosing love as an act of radical resistance. 
Not because it’s easy,
But because it’s necessary.

As the world spins wild,
I will be under the oaks,
Grounded and whole.
Choosing to dwell in love!

Weaving the Threads

These stories - one of unexpected healing through a rescue dog, another of finding sanctuary beneath oak trees - speak to a deeper truth: that sometimes our new beginnings arrive not in grand gestures but in gentle invitations to see differently. Whether it's a paw placed trustingly in our hand or the sacred silence of our own front yard, healing often comes when we surrender our preconceptions about how it should appear.

Your Turn

This week, I invite you to consider:

• What unexpected teachers have appeared in your life?

• Where have you found sanctuary in surprising places?

• What reluctant "yes" became your unexpected blessing?

• What noise might you need to unhook from to hear your own healing calling?

If you’re open to sharing, I’d love to hear your thoughts, experiences and recollections in this regard. Feel free to share in the comments. I read and respond to them all!

Looking Forward

Next week, we'll continue exploring the theme of necessary endings and new beginnings through another lens. Until then, may you remain open to grace in all its unexpected forms.

With gratitude for all the four-legged angels and oak tree witnesses,

Olivia