Thank you again to my dear friend Ramona Furst for sharing yet another lesson from The Pit.
“Stop staring at me! I’m sick. I’d like to go out for a walk but I don’t feel up to it.”
Twice I nearly tripped on my shadow. Finally I looked at the black lab and said, “Fine! We’ll go for a hike. The fresh air and sunshine might help.”
We fell into a comfortable pace. The hiking trails were covered with a new layer of wet leaves after a storm. Gracie, with her head down to the ground, breathed in the early morning scents. She didn’t react when I said out loud, “Are you happy? Found anything interesting?”
I’ve lost my get up and go. This is a good place to stop and rest.
Standing in the wide open arena of sand dunes, I looked around “The Pit” and thought about a recent God moment I’d experienced with a total stranger. I thought about the encounter with the woman and our conversation.
Lost in thought and in prayer, I continued to walk until I reached a circular path with trails branching off in many directions. I wonder if I’ll ever hear from the woman again. She’s probably forgotten my name and my email that I rattled off to her when we said good-bye. I don’t even know her last name. The only way is if You bring her here again.
“Gracie! Where are you?” I yelled out for good measure, “Want a treat?” It worked like a charm, not too far away from where I was standing, I watched Gracie emerge from a culvert. Her normally black body was covered in mud. Burrs clung to her black ears like earrings. There was a certain air about her. “You stink!”
“You’re not getting into my car that way. We’ll go back the way we came and you can have a swim in the pond.”
We retraced our steps towards home. Past the beaver damn, over a bridge, and out once again to The Pit. I heard a voice call out my name. Gracie began to run towards the voice and the sound of dogs barking. Someone waved. No way! It can’t be!
As I began to pick up the pace, I shouted out, “I was praying that I’d be able to see you again and here you are!”
My new friend hugged me and said, “How is this possible? I thought the first time was destiny. Or a chance encounter. But here we are, meeting for the second time, in the same spot, it’s . . .”
As she struggled for words, I said, “It’s a God thing.”
We shared a dry spot on a sandy embankment with our dogs at our side. “I did call the counsellor you suggested. Luckily he had a cancellation, but now that I think about it, luck had nothing to do with it. Just like us meeting here today.”
The young woman chuckled as she looked into my face and we both said, “It was a God thing!”
Soon it was time to say good-bye, and as the young woman and I parted company, I noticed Gracie was decidedly drier. “How can I stay mad at you for smelling so bad? I could have stayed home and missed out on another God moment.”
In the pocket of my jacket, I found a dog biscuit. Gracie inhaled it and proceeded to cool off in a mud puddle .