God's Blessings and Answered Prayers

Last night, I ran over our family dog. I was rushing home from church to change clothes before the night service. As I pulled into the driveway, I felt a bump. A gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, sickening bump. I stopped the car, and then sat there for a split second, hoping desperately that what I thought I had done was not really true. Then I threw open the door, and became certain that my fears were being realised. I heard the anguished screams of a beloved family pet, and I echoed those screams with some of my own.

But this is not a story about pain and death. This is a story of God's blessings and answered prayers. Jack on the day we brought him home 3 or so years ago.

I could talk about the intense guilt I felt having to look my children in the eye and tell them I had run over the dog and that he was nowhere to be found. I could talk about the dreams I had all night long that consisted of the bump that made me instantly nauseous, or the screams that echoed through those dreams. I could mention that by the time I woke Monday morning, my eyes were so swollen from crying that I was having trouble seeing correctly. I could talk about all that sadness.......or I could talk about how God provided for me and for my family over the past two days.

Let's talk about that!

There is a song that says "Count Your Blessings, name them one by one." So here are mine for the last two days.

First, when I called Kevin hysterically crying, God sent Kevin home to help me look for Jack. But not only that, He sent two other men from the church, Matt Black and Jeff Wills, to help us look. I saw "us" but really they were helping Kevin. I was so overcome with grief that I was little help. I mostly just moved from one place to another sobbing.

Then, when Kevin, Matt, and Jeff had to get back to church, and I was left at the house alone, God knew I could not handle that solitude. So He sent my next door neighbor, Don, over with a flashlight to help me continue he search. He and I walked the woods, and my back yard, and my front yard for over an hour, calling and calling, searching and searching.

Once Kevin came home, having already told the girls, God once again showed me incredible grace. I was certain the girls would shun me, angry that I had hurt their friend. Instead, they showed me love over and over, in the smallest of ways. When I cried, Liv stroked my arm, even through her own grief, comforting me. When I apologized, both girls assured me it was not my fault and they were not mad. I told Liv that if she needed to be angry with me for a time, that I could understand, and she quickly and vehemently asserted that she was NOT angry with me, and that she loved me. (I was so worried that they would somehow be so hurt and angry with me, that this act would damage our relationship.) But if anything, it has strengthened it. Tiny expressions of love were everywhere. Lauryn-Elizabeth responded to me, when I told her I was so sorry for breaking her heart, "Mommy, you did not break my heart; you only hurt it for a little while."

Later on that evening, when I had cried and searched until I was utterly and completely used up and did not have the heart to continue the search, He sent another neighbor over to pick up the baton. Lee Earnest came over and searched for over an hour, until past 11pm. He searched quietly, while I was sound asleep. Though he did not find anything, it was amazing to see someone help us so willingly.

Jack Eliot attcking an elephant sculpture on a recent walk around the block.

The next day, Larry Holcombe, from around the block, came over and helped the girls and me search again for Jack. After about 30 minutes, Jack appeared to Liv who yelled for me to come to her. I ran through the woods, where Larry and I had been looking. I ran so fast that I was certain I would fall, but in my heart I was terrified at what I would find. But there was Jack, wagging his little tail, obviously dehydrated and visibly flatter than he should have been. I bent down to look him over, but found no blood. And that little broken dog, who should have been terribly angry with me, tried to lick me. He drug his dry tongue across my hand and tried to comfort me. Dehdrated as he was though, he was not very successful. But I cnanot tell you how it touched me that Jack, broken and in pain, knew that I, the cause of his pain, would need comfort.

So, we whisked him away, and drove as fast as the law would allow, to the vet. I called on the way, to inform them we were coming.

The end of the story is that Jack made a full recovery. Months later, (yes, I forgot to publish this back when it occured in December 2009), no one could tell that Jack Eliot had been so close to death. The vet even said he was amazed at how easily and fully Jack had recovered. Just goes to prove how much our God loves us. Enough to take care of our animals, which we love.