[Spirited] God Knows

GIVE PRAYER A CHANCE

"Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!" Dad yelled "Can't you do anything right?"
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the old man in the seat beside me daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat & I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured, steady & sounded calmer than I felt.
He glared, then turned away & settled. At home I left him in front of the tv & went out to collect my thoughts. Dark heavy clouds hung in the air promising rain, the rumble of thunder echoed my turmoil. What could I do about him?
He'd been a lumberjack in WA & OR, enjoyed being outdoors reveling in pitting his strength against forces of nature. He'd entered grueling lumberjack competitions, often placing. The shelves were full of trophies attesting his prowess.
Years marched on...the 1st time he couldn't lift a log he joked about it, but later I saw him there alone, straining to lift it. He got irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age or when he couldn't do something he did when younger.
Days after his 67th birthday he had a heart attack. An ambulance took him to a hospital with a medic doing CPR. He was rushed into an OR.
He was lucky-he lived. But something inside died. His zest for life. He refused dr's orders, suggestions & help turned aside with sarcasm & insult. Visitors thinned then stopped. He was alone.
My husband Dick & I asked him to live on our farm hoping fresh air & rustic atmosphere would help him adjust, but within a week I regretted it. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything. I got frustrated & moody. Soon I was taking my pentup anger out on Dick & we began to bicker & argue. Alarmed, Dick found our pastor, explained the situation & set up counseling. At the close each time, he prayed & asked god to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But months wore on & god was silent. Something had to be done & it was up to me
Next day I sat with a phonebook methodically calling each mental health clinic & explained my problem to each, but in vain. Just when I gave up, I heard "I just read something that may help. Let me get it."
I listened as she read. The article described a study done at a nursing home. All patients were being treated for chronic depression, yet attitudes improved dramatically when given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to a shelter. After filling a questionnaire a guy led me to kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each had 5-7 dogs; Long haired, curly, black, spotted...all jumped trying to reach me. I studied each, but rejected them for various reasons; too big, small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front & sat...A pointer. 1 of dog worlds' aristocrats...but he was a caricature. Years etched his face with gray & his hips jutted in lopsided triangles, but it was his eyes that caught & held me. Calm & clear they beheld me unwaveringly.
"Tell me about him."
The puzzled guy shook his head. "He's a funny one...appeared from nowhere & sat in front of the gate. We brought him in figuring someone would claim him. That was 2 weeks ago & nothing. His time's up tomorrow" & gestured helplessly.
As his words sank in, I asked in horror "You mean you're gonna kill him?"
"Policy...we don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the dog...calm brown eyes waited my decision. "I'll take him".
I drove home with him on the seat beside me.
When I got home I honked the horn & was helping him outta the car when Dad shuffled to the porch.
"Ta-da! Look what I got for you Dad!" I said excitedly.
He looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I wanted a dog, I'd've got 1 & I'd've picked out a better 1 than that bag of bones! Keep it...I don't want it!" He waved his arm scornfully & went back to the house.
Anger rose inside me, squeezing my throat muscles, pounding my temples "You better get used to him Dad. He's staying!"
He ignored me.
"Did you hear me?" I screamed.
He whirled angrily, hands clenched, eyes narrow & blazing hatred. We glared at each other like duelists when suddenly the dog pulled free, wobbled to dad, sat in front of him, then slowly carefully raised a paw.
Dad's jaw trembled as he stared at the paw. Confusion replaced anger, dog waiting patiently, then Dad was on his knees hugging him.
It was the beginning of a warm intimate friendship. Dad named him Cheyenne. They explored the community together, spent hours walking dusty lanes, reflective moments fishing, even attended Sunday services, Dad in a pew & Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. They were inseparable for 3 yrs. Dad's bitterness faded & they made many friends.
1 night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's nose under our covers. He'd never come in our room. I woke Dick, put on my robe & ran to dad's room. He lay there serenely, but his spirit had quietly left.
Days later my shock & grief deepened when I found Cheyenne dead beside Dad's bed & I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he slept on. As we buried him near his favorite fishing hole I silently thanked him for the help he gave restoring Dad's peace of mind.
Dad's funeral dawned overcast & dreary...like the way I felt walking down the aisle of pews, surprised to see the many friends they'd made, filling the church. The pastor began a tribute to Dad & the dog that changed his life, then turned to Hebrews 13:2 "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers".
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel" he said.
For me the past dropped in place completing a puzzle I hadn't seen. The sympathetic voice that read the right article, Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the shelter, his calm acceptance & complete devotion & the closeness of their deaths & I suddenly understood...knew God answered my prayer.