Acts 11:1-18
I’ve had writer's block for weeks now regarding the verses I was assigned for today. I just couldn’t find the words. Yesterday, one of those rare God moments hit and I just knew I was meant to share this story instead. (Sorry Southwood staff – I’m going rogue!)
I was pushing my one-year-old son, Dean, home from daycare in his stroller the day after Easter. We live right off a popular walking trail, and it was one of those perfect days – 70s, abundant sunshine, plants bursting with color, happy people passing by, and best of all - no wind! We don’t have pets, so naturally Dean has been enamored with all things fluffy. If we let him, he’d pet every single dog and turn our 10-minute walk home into an hour. Sometimes we stop and chat with the dog owners and sometimes we whiz by, much to Dean’s dismay. Accessing each owner’s openness to a 1-year-old accosting their beloved pet is a skill we’ve now mastered.
As Dean and I were nearing our house, a middle-aged lady and a darling white Pomeranian were walking towards us. The exhausted lady made a beeline for a bench nearby, cutting in front of us, but avoiding all eye contact. It was clear she wanted nothing to do with Dean or I. Dean was squealing and reaching for the little dog, but I pushed him by and continued down the trail. Dean would normally forget about whatever it was I was distracting him from, but not this time. He flipped himself around in his stroller and fanatically continued flailing about. I thought maybe he just wanted to walk, so I lifted him up and placed him on the trail. He immediately took off towards the lady and dog which were, at this point, quite a ways for his little feet to travel.
As Dean reached the bench where they were sitting, I held him back and apologized to her for the distraction. I said he just loves dogs and complemented hers. She said it wasn’t her dog and warned us it was skittish. She clearly wanted us to go away. As I attempted to wrangle Dean, she eventually said she was sorry and she’s not usually this glum. She slowly confided in me that she had just lost her sister to cancer and that the Pomeranian was her sister’s cherished pet. She was taking a break from cleaning out her sister’s home and was just out for a short walk with the dog.
My heart immediately sank. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with the happy exercisers around her. How could they possibly relate to the pain she was experiencing at that moment?
I told her I was incredibly sorry, and that while I don’t know exactly what she’s feeling, I too know the horrors of cancer. I briefly mentioned I lost my first husband to it. The second I said that, her wall came down. I asked about her sister and her journey. She asked about Curtis, my late husband. She talked about how excruciating it was cleaning out her sister’s house. I said I remembered the days of having to carry on, surrounded by people living normal lives, while time stood still for me. She described how weary she was, and I told her how daunting grief is on the body and to give herself grace. All the while Dean sat on the bench petting the sweet dog, who was not skittish after all, at least not in that moment.
We hugged and she said, “My sister would have loved you. I think there’s a reason you’re here. Thank you.” I told her she’s not alone, even though it feels like it. She indicated that perhaps her sister had something to do with our encounter. I told her I’ve had some unbelievable moments that I know Curtis, God, or both orchestrated. I told her God is with her. We could have sat and talked for a good hour if not for the wiggly toddler in between us.
This encounter was not my doing. I would have kept walking, selfishly soaking in the gorgeous day and thinking only about myself. Something prompted Dean to seek out that particular dog on that particular day. Was it God? I don’t know, but I sure like to think it was. And in all honesty, she helped me as much as I did her. I’ve been struggling to connect to God lately. I haven’t felt inspired. My life has been going better than I deserve, so this was a humbling reminder. It took me back to those dark years when everything seemed to go wrong. I went on so many walks during that time with red eyes and a tear-stained face, hoping passersby didn’t notice, thinking, “if only they knew what I’ve endured.” I’m sure this lady was thinking the same. It was a blatant reminder of the suffering all around.
Questions for Reflection:
- How many people have we blown by in our lives that just lost a loved one, or were battling an awful disease, or felt utterly alone for reasons we’ll never know? Hundreds? Thousands? More?
- Have you had an encounter that you just know was God-driven? Reflect back on that moment.
Prayer:
Lord, we know you work in mysterious ways. Please continue to connect your flock, whether it be through a rambunctious toddler and a patient Pomeranian, or other means. May we be open to each other’s stories and sufferings. Give us the words to comfort one another and the motivation to be your eyes and ears on this earth. Thank you for these moments. Let them sustain us. Amen.
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