While weeding in my garden today, I noticed that some plants pulled a couple of days ago were still struggling to survive, even though all the soil left to them was a few tiny bits still clinging to their roots. The tenacity of life. It is amazing. The mind wanders to what this means to us.

Of course, we have that same tenacity. Our bodies are marvelously built to keep going and to repair nature's ravages. As are our mental and spiritual strengths. Spiritual strengths? When we pray for the strength and ability to get through all that happens to us, does God answer our prayers? The answer is, of course He does. He already did. That tenacity that He gave to those weeds, He gave to us. And we can call it up at will. All we have to do is pray and we answer those prayers with the gifts God has implanted in us. We and our world are miraculous.

There have been some news shows on the news and in National Geographic about the medical care in Iraq. The advances in medicine are stupendous. Of course, there is the aspect that our medical establishment is making money hand over fist from our disasters. The doctors and nurses in Iraq make it obvious that there are other reasons, too. We just plain care about each other. And want to help. Where did that come from? Our evolved need to work together to survive? Of course. And from the Author of all of our evolution and survival. Pray for survival from the ravages of this life and the system that the God who gave us evolution has provided comes to our aid.

The power of prayer.

Recently, one of our daughters found a dog she loves, Callie, at an animal adoption agency. This act certainly adds a new dimension to a city dwellers life. We had dogs for much of our lives, but it was different back then.

Bo was the joy of my pre-adolescence. He was the ultimate free spirit. He roamed the small college town where we lived and would be gone for days. He would chase his tail and bark at objects on command. The only complaint we ever got was when the police said he was drunk. The college boys had just gotten him to bark at a beer bottle. Finally he went to a hunting camp where he could really roam. We saw him every so often when the vet had to remove porcupine quills from his muzzle.

The best was our Bambi, the dog of our children growing up. Bambi was an abused mixed breed young dog from the animal shelter. We lived on a school campus and Bambi could roam the school at will and was friends with all. She was a delight, playful and loving, playing hide and seek with us and helping me in my garden, home almost all of the time. The only trouble she got into was being a part of the school's outdoor graduation exercises.

We never concerned ourselves about who was the alpha and whether Bo or Bambi were anxious or insecure. We enjoyed and loved them and they were happy and loving. We never concerned ourselves about where they pooped unless we tracked it into the house.

Callie is a condo dweller. The Dog Whisperer is a big part of life with her. Of course, Cesar is right. We need to understand her and her communications with us. The poop does need to be picked up. And Callie needs to be walked, rain or shine. Things have certainly changed. For the better? Probably. It is enjoyable to work with Callie when we visit. But the good old days with Bo and Bambi were certainly fun, too.