I got this in my email, and it made me cry. So be warned.
Ten years ago when I ran a domestic violence shelter I was heading to work in my finest business suit on a rainy morning. Thunder shower kind of morning actually ... as I drive down the freeway, I see a little white dog, going opposite direction to traffic, on this freeway. It's against the divider, so every time a semi drives past it, it gets thrown up against the barrier, only to get back up and run toward traffic.
I start to pray as I watch this -- thinking of my $500 suit and silk hose and speaking engagement that I have to go on ... when another semi toppled it into the wall. I slowed my car down and stopped. Angry that of all the people on that freeway NO ONE but ME would stop and help this dog.
I ran out, chasing the dog, calling for it over and over again. I am drenched all the way down to my underwear when I finally catch up to this dog who was not paying any head to my calls. I take off my expensive raincoat and throw it over the dog, and start the long walk back to my car, now drenched beyond hope....
I get into the car and I am shaking. I look at this pitiful ragamuffin who is shaking in the seat beside me. I am crying from how scared and worried I am about it, me and my speech, and what I will need to do for this dog.
It has tags on it to the local humane society but I vow, to my office worker when I get to work finally, that I will NOT let whoever had this dog take it back. They don't deserve it. It could have died!
My office worker says to me "Gee ... if God gives you a clue to follow, like those tags, I think He'd be pretty upset if you didn't follow it" and then she walked out.
I fumed silently until I picked the phone up and called ... they gave me the owners number. I called and he said he would be right down.
I was fuming out loud, spouting off like a bad drunk, saying I was going to give this owner a piece of my mind when he showed up, when there was a knock on the door. With angry eyes I opened the door and before I could open my mouth, I dropped my jaw.
It was an 80+ year old gaunt man, with heavy wrinkles and thick veins all over his face and hands, clutching his hat...asking me if I was the lady with the dog.
Then before I could answer he saw her ... and he scooped down and picked her up and held her tight against his heart, and tears just spilled down his face like rivers.
We stood in silence for what seemed forever. When he was able to speak, he said to me, that his wife had died the year before and his children were all grown and moved away and this little dog was all he had left in this world that loved him.
He had put her out to go to the bathroom ... the tea kettle whistled and he turned just a moment to take it off the stove, and she was gone.
He asked me if I could understand how he felt when he called for her and knew she could not hear, because she was deaf, and knew she could not find her way back home, for she was blind.
He never thought he would see her again. He thanked me profusely and offered to pay me. I refused ... God ... how could I take anything after the gifts he had given me?
He had taught me that my will not be done, but my God's ... and that: what seems to be, is not always what is. And that my perceptions are not always the facts.
Ten years ago when I ran a domestic violence shelter I was heading to work in my finest business suit on a rainy morning. Thunder shower kind of morning actually ... as I drive down the freeway, I see a little white dog, going opposite direction to traffic, on this freeway. It's against the divider, so every time a semi drives past it, it gets thrown up against the barrier, only to get back up and run toward traffic.
I start to pray as I watch this -- thinking of my $500 suit and silk hose and speaking engagement that I have to go on ... when another semi toppled it into the wall. I slowed my car down and stopped. Angry that of all the people on that freeway NO ONE but ME would stop and help this dog.
I ran out, chasing the dog, calling for it over and over again. I am drenched all the way down to my underwear when I finally catch up to this dog who was not paying any head to my calls. I take off my expensive raincoat and throw it over the dog, and start the long walk back to my car, now drenched beyond hope....
I get into the car and I am shaking. I look at this pitiful ragamuffin who is shaking in the seat beside me. I am crying from how scared and worried I am about it, me and my speech, and what I will need to do for this dog.
It has tags on it to the local humane society but I vow, to my office worker when I get to work finally, that I will NOT let whoever had this dog take it back. They don't deserve it. It could have died!
My office worker says to me "Gee ... if God gives you a clue to follow, like those tags, I think He'd be pretty upset if you didn't follow it" and then she walked out.
I fumed silently until I picked the phone up and called ... they gave me the owners number. I called and he said he would be right down.
I was fuming out loud, spouting off like a bad drunk, saying I was going to give this owner a piece of my mind when he showed up, when there was a knock on the door. With angry eyes I opened the door and before I could open my mouth, I dropped my jaw.
It was an 80+ year old gaunt man, with heavy wrinkles and thick veins all over his face and hands, clutching his hat...asking me if I was the lady with the dog.
Then before I could answer he saw her ... and he scooped down and picked her up and held her tight against his heart, and tears just spilled down his face like rivers.
We stood in silence for what seemed forever. When he was able to speak, he said to me, that his wife had died the year before and his children were all grown and moved away and this little dog was all he had left in this world that loved him.
He had put her out to go to the bathroom ... the tea kettle whistled and he turned just a moment to take it off the stove, and she was gone.
He asked me if I could understand how he felt when he called for her and knew she could not hear, because she was deaf, and knew she could not find her way back home, for she was blind.
He never thought he would see her again. He thanked me profusely and offered to pay me. I refused ... God ... how could I take anything after the gifts he had given me?
He had taught me that my will not be done, but my God's ... and that: what seems to be, is not always what is. And that my perceptions are not always the facts.
