A gentle reminder of who I used to be — and who I’m becoming

Warning: If you’re staunch, strict, wearing rules like cement shoes when worshipping, you might find this story offensive. If that’s true for you, I apologize. Truly, I understand and respect your choice of worship. Hopefully, you’ll understand mine as well.

I just got home from church. Today was Worship Circle. What’s that, you ask?

In our Yakima Vineyard church, Worship Circle Sundays are days when we come together for one single purpose — praising the Lord. It’s simple, intimate, yet gargantuan in power. For this special service, chairs are placed thoughtfully in a circle with the worship leaders seated at the heart of it. It’s a little different each time, today the accompaniment included several drums — one being an Irish bodhrán — a guitar, two keyboards, and the God-kissed voices of two talented songbirds, Tammy Kosoff and Annette Thompson.

Every week the leaders leave their performance at the door, ushering in the Holy Spirit to take us by the hand toward the Almighty. Worship Circle is the same — only deeper, more intense. When your one task is to worship Jesus, it’s easier to place distractions in a time-out.

To this day, I’m amazed at how much I love to sing worship. I remember twenty-some years ago wondering if the band in this church would ever stop going on and on. When I ventured out to join a lifegroup in someone’s home, I nearly turned around the second I heard singing inside. The only reason I didn’t? I’d already been spotted through the picture window.

That was back when I thought all that singing and strumming was just some pepped-up Kumbaya pow-pow. In every other church I’d been to, that’s exactly what it felt like. It took a while for me to understand the reverence, the hands lifted in awe, the Spirit-inspired lyrics. For months I stayed seated, arms dangling at my side. Then one day I felt led to raise my arms in wonder of God Almighty. I’ll never forget laughing out loud — startling those in the pews around me — when I briefly imagined being catapulted straight into His arms. Never were my arms so long.

Here at the Vineyard, the congregation looks like a bunch of mismatched wildflowers rather than a florist’s carefully arranged bouquet — some seated, others waving hands in the air, a few hunched over deep in prayer. There are no rules to worship — okay, you can’t do that — you know what I mean.

Today, the wildflowers swayed with the Spirit like no other.

Before this story continues, here’s some needed background.
This is Cooper, my husband Sandy’s service dog.

From the day we brought Cooper home from the shelter, he revealed a special gift — the love of song. He discovered it like a baby finding its voice. If you’ve ever heard an infant experiment with squeaks and coos, you know what I mean. Serenaded by an ambulance, Cooper surprised himself with a howl, then tested out a few follow-up noises just to see what else he could do. I knew right then we’d be hearing more of his musical talents.

And I was right.
When I began singing worship songs during my private prayer and meditation with God, Cooper soon joined me — whether mid-nap or busy with a toy. One peep from me and he’d race up the stairs like a bandleader late for the parade.
With all my heart, I believe God enjoys Cooper’s praising howls as much, maybe more, than my own. I’m not sure what the neighbors think, that’s okay.

Since Cooper became an official service dog, he’s attended church with us. At first, we were concerned he’d run up on stage, pour his heart out — upstage our incredible worship team.
And — we were right to worry.

One of Cooper’s and my favorite songs to sing is Goodness of God by Bethel Music / Jenn Johnson. We rock the chorus — “Your goodness is running after, it’s running after me.” Over the years, we’ve taken the liberty to change it a tad, inserting our loved ones’ names in place of the “me.” Like this: Your goodness is running after, it’s running after ____ (using whoever’s name we’re praying for at the time).

Well, as you can imagine, when our worship team blasted out the first note, Cooper went into full fortissimo mode, needing to be led outside, lovingly reprimanded for singing in church. It was sad, but necessary. It wasn’t that the congregation minded — in truth, they loved it. But we all knew his performance, albeit brilliant, wasn’t easily ignored, breaking the spiritual moment for individuals.
So Cooper learned to enjoy the music, head down, without singing along — unless a rogue glory note slipped out.

Still, he does get the occasional exception. If someone in the congregation has a birthday, he’s allowed to let ’er rip; otherwise, quiet is the rule. When Tammy Kosoff started leading Worship Circle, she invited him to sing the final song — a sweet gesture, but confusing for a dog who’d worked hard to behave.

But today?
Without lifting his head off the floor, he joined in — perfect pitch, if I do say so — praising the name of the Lord just as the chorus sang, Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! That’s when I sensed the Lord whisper, “Cooper knows my name. He learned it in your home.”

Hearing those words broke me — in the best way.
To understand why, you’d have to know how much I’ve been changed by Christ. I felt this same joy twenty-four years ago when my first grandson picked out a pair of praying hands with flashing lights to give me on my birthday. It was an honor knowing my grandson counted prayer as my treasure. He didn’t bring his Nana a bouquet or a box of chocolates — instead, with quiet pride, he handed me the Vegas-style praying hands.

Similarly, today God reminded me of the transformation He worked in me — turning dark to light. What a miracle that anyone, let alone a dog, would learn the name of Jesus in my home. That simply was not the case in my past.

There are no words for the humble pride that comes with those reminders that I am not who I used to be.

And maybe that’s why today hit so deep. As Cooper lifted his voice, I remembered the verse where Jesus said, “I tell you… if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out” (Luke 19:40, NIV). I used to wonder what that meant. Now I think it’s this: worship has a way of spilling out of anything touched by God — people, places, dogs, even rocks.

So if Cooper feels the need to sing His name, I’m not sure I’ll ever see it as a disruption again. It feels more like heaven agreeing.

I’ve included a video of Cooper singing. They’re not nearly as impressive as when he’s in church, but they’ll give you an idea of his love of song.

Deb Palmer writes from Yakima, Washington, where she and her husband, Sandy, co-authored In Spite of Us — A Love Story About Second Chances. She tells true stories with warmth and wit — small slices of real life that remind us we’re all a little flawed, a little funny, and still finding our way.

In Spite Of Us: A Love Story about Second Chances

[Get an email whenever Deb Palmer publishes on Medium.](https://debpalmer999.medium.com/)

The Whisper I Didn’t Expect to Hear in Worship was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.