He’ll Meet You There. . .

Climbing the hill of the country road with a towel and a shoe box in hand, I continued to muster the strength I would need by reassuring myself. “Okay; I think I can do this.  Just do exactly as he said. You can do this.”

Less than an hour before as I returned home from work, I saw the results of the devastating events that had occurred earlier that day.  Sure, it was just a kitty in the road, but it was my kitty, Rudy.  If ever there had been a perfect pet, he was it.  Rudy would explore the landscape of our four acre lot in the country by day, and provide loving companionship in the evenings.  Part of his daytime excursions included crossing the road to investigate the mysteries of the neighbor’s barn that sat at the top of the hill.  But without fail and with an internal clock that never lost time, Rudy would return home every afternoon.  By the time I arrived home from work, he had climbed the roof of the house to perch at the very peak of the roof.  This enabled him to monitor the driveway so he would know the exact moment that his owner returned.  And at that moment, he would run down the roof, jump onto the back deck, and run down to the garage to greet me.  He was diligent in his daily quest to greet me after a long day of work.  But today, his routine had been broken.

I knew it was too late to do anything for Rudy.  But I was desperate to reclaim my kitty.  At the very least, I had to get him off the road.  I couldn’t stand the thought of others racing down the road with no regard for him, or for the fact that I lived within a glance of the tragic scene.  But how could I face this?  I had to get help.  I needed someone to come to my aid.  During the next thirty minutes, though it seemed more like hours, I called each of my neighbors.  And after calling each number, all I heard from the other end was a repetitive ringing of the unanswered phone.  Not a single neighbor was home to help me.  I had a daunting task in front of me, and every confidence that I couldn’t do it myself.   Alone and helpless, I decided to make one more phone call to my cousin.  She lived thirty minutes away and though she would not be able to come to my rescue physically, I knew that I could talk to her about my plight, and she would help me through it emotionally.  She was as close as a sister, and a strong Christian woman.  Over the years, I had formed the opinion that she had a direct line to God, maybe something similar to the red Bat-phone.  It seemed that her prayers were always answered.  And I needed help from above desperately.  That phone call did not ring unanswered, but she was not home.  At the other end, however, was her husband.  He was a police officer, committed to protect and serve.  He routinely had to make decisions and devise plans to deal with tough situations.  In a very calm and deliberate manner, he outlined a step by step approach to my situation.  He instructed me to find an old towel, place it over my kitty, and lift him into a shoe box.  Somehow, hearing the specific plan laid out for me, I believed I could do it.  At the very least, I now had an actual plan on which to focus my energy, and armed with that plan, I ventured out to deal with the task at hand.  

Climbing the hill of the country road with towel and shoe box in hand, I continued to muster the strength I would need by reassuring myself. “Okay; I think I can do this.  Just do exactly as he said. You can do this.”   Tears streamed down my face.  My self talk was intermingled with prayer, “God, please help me to do this; help me to get my kitty off the road; please help me, God; you’ve got to help me.” 

As I got closer to the kitty, an oncoming car crested the hill.  I thought he was going too fast.  I mumbled through my tears, partially audibly, mostly silently, but screaming from the inside, “Move over! Don’t hit him! Don’t hit him! Move over!”   The little red car sped past me, narrowly missing Rudy.  A couple of seconds later, I heard the car’s tires skidding in the gravel as the car came to a stop.  Now in reverse, the car was approaching me.  I stopped and turned to see what the driver was doing.  He stopped the car and got out.  He had rosy cheeks and a kind, round face.  “Are you o.k.?” he asked.  Forcing enough energy over the lump in my throat I managed an audible, “yes”.  Although that really wasn’t true, it was an automatic answer due to my prior experiences that had created a survivor’s spirit within me.   The expression on his face exuded kindness and compassion, and so I explained that the kitty up ahead lying on the road was my kitty, and I was trying to retrieve him.  With continued kindness and compassion, he asked, “Is there anything I can do?”  The question seemed to come from heaven above.  There must have been a long pause as I pondered the possibility that a good Samaritan, who arrived from seemingly no where, out in the middle of a country road, could actually help me with the daunting task ahead of me.  Tears flooded out, as words tumbled out, “Would you mind putting him in the box for me?  If you can just put him in the box, then I can carry him home.”  He was happy to do it, and unlike me, he was able to do it.  Moments later he handed me the box.  He asked for my reassurance that I needed nothing more from him.  I gave it; he drove off; and I carried my kitty home.   Later, and many times since, I wondered about that man.  Who was he?  How did he get there at that moment?  Why had I not seen him before, or since for that matter?  And how could a stranger care so much about my personal tragedy which was so insignificant to the rest of the world?

The fact of the matter is God cares.  He cares about the things that we care about.  He cares that we ask for His help, and He is faithful to provide it.  He provided courage through my cousin’s husband, the courage I needed to leave the house with a plan in mind instead of remaining paralyzed.  And once I initiated that plan, He provided an angel, someone who could take care of the most difficult part of the plan for me.   He met my every need in the situation.  He met me there in the midst of the problem, and He has met me right where I needed Him many times since.  He is happy to do so; He is eager to do so; and He will do it for you, over and over again.

About the author:  A resident of Panama City, FL., Laurie Eberle has published her first book titled, “On My Own”.  In it she reveals how God has brought restoration to many areas of her life that had been damaged through prior experiences.  

• Book available at Amazon.com
• More about the author: http://bookonmyown.blogspot.com/