Those of you who are familiar with the Wii, will likely know about the polling site that’s quite popular around here.
The idea is that each member of the household will be asked the same random question, with the choice of two different answers. You decide which one is closest to how you’d answer. Then, you are asked how you think the rest of the country will respond. Are most people going to agree with you or disagree with you? A few days later, you can check back and see the results–and if you predicted others answer correctly or not.
So the other day, the question was, “If you found $20 while standing in line, would you ask if it belonged to someone?”
The answers to choose from were: “Yes, but softly,” or “Finders keepers.”
Another feature of the guessing game is that you can click to find out how the rest of the country voted on the original question.
Moral of the story is:
If you’re going to drop your wallet, at any given time…
A friend of ours, “Utah Grammie” over at Main Street Memories, witnessed a pretty incredible event unfold in her family this last week. With her permission, we would like to share the story with you on Gracious Rain.
Before we begin, here’s a little preface:
On Wednesday Nov. 18, 2009 while her family was visiting relatives in Arivaca, Arizona, her sister’s beloved dog, Owen, went missing.
It happened while they were all outside ready to feed the animals. One of the horses came up behind Owen and spooked him. He bolted out of the yard and down the dirt road. Gone. The family spent the day searching for the scared puppy but no luck. Volunteer groups from the area came but the area was huge-consisting of a lot of desert full of scrub brush and mesquite tree that stretched out for miles and miles. The poor dog could be anywhere.
By the next day the family was becoming more somber. Rightly so. The desert is no place for a little city pup, what with coyotes and snakes and all kinds of hidden dangers for a creature so small on their own. On Thursday Utah Grammie said, “No news. We’re still holding out hope. In the meantime, I just can’t be flippant. Sorry. Hopefully the new day will bring good news.”
They put up fliers offering a $500 reward all over the area, but still nothing additional to report on Friday either. Everyone was heartbroken. Owen wasn’t just a dog, he was a beloved member of the family.
There’s a lot more to this, and if you’ve doubts about prayer, courage, strength….about the stars and the heaven’s alignment….about the kindness of strangers….and man’s love of God’s creatures….then you need to read no further.
Because this is the story of hope, answered prayers, and…’thanks-giving’
Everyone was supportive. Told Kathy he’d be found..he’d be safe.. Because that’s what one says..even if one doesn’t believe…..has doubts.
After all, one small city dog..in a place far away from his home..unknown terrain….what with coyotes, bobcats and all other dangers of the desert at night. And it was now 3 nights..and 4 days..
No word..even the believers, the hopeful, were losing hope. “It’s really not very likely he’ll be found alive..after one night out there..” some said {but all were thinking by now..} But that’s not the way it was supposed to be..not the way the story ends..
The reward posters were placed in the small town of Arivaca, in the bar/restaurant in Amado..the mercantile, the library….given out at the elementary school where Larry substituted as a kindergarten teacher…the shelter in Green Valley..the border patrol station..no one had seen him.
One small white dog..one large and dangerous desert..thousand of acres vs one flat-faced [pup], with bottom-less brown eyes.. all spit and vinegar…
On the day we had all but given up hope, Kathy’s cell phone rang. Bad reception..”wait, what?”
“I thi.. I ma..have fou.. your dog..” The line went dead..the caller ID said simply “unknown”..
The phone rang again..”What? Where are you? What’s you’re number..give me YOUR number!?”
He gave the first 3 digits..then the line went dead…again.
“NO..”
It rang a third time..he quickly gave the LAST 4..Kathy ran into the house to use the land-line. The voice on the other end said “I think we have him..” 4 1/2 miles. Hills..washes..no houses..then a small house..a man holding Owen..
Kathy screaming, crying, Gerri jumping. Owen was found. He’s alive!
The man, now himself close to tears, is hugged by Kathy. He hugs back..then tells his story.
Seems he has a small, modest home. 4 dogs himself. Lots of barking – teenage daughter, pretty wife. But for some reason, the barking at 2:30 Saturday morning was..well..different. The man thought he’s just step outside and check..
A coyote was trying to get something under his car..what was it? His Great Dane was furious..barking..the coyote was growling..menacing.. He let the Great Dane out..he ran off the coyote.. the man looked under the car.. Now what is this? A small, white city dog? Out here? Wha??
The man took him inside. The little dog was wearing a collar with tags..and a phone number..a long distance phone number. He couldn’t call at that hour. He started to work on all the burrs, stickers and desert this little city dog had gotten himself into.
He continued to try to make Owen {he found his name was on his tag} comfortable..feed him and give him water..he gently groomed him, talked to him, for over 4 hours..He called at 8am.
When Kathy & Gerri arrived, when the hugs and the tears and the laughter subsided..the man told the story.. no, he and his wife and daughter had not seen the fliers on a lost little white dog..they didn’t know…
Kathy hugged him.. told him there was a reward..
“No, no..not necessary..I couldn’t..”
Kathy gave him the reward. $500, just like the flier had said. The flier he had not seen.
The man appeared to be in shock..he couldn’t believe it..he said “thank you – thank you…I don’t…” Like us all, he had been having a rough time ..Thanksgiving and Christmas were a worry..he has a daughter..and a wife..and little extra beyond the basics. But not having extra money didn’t stop him from opening his home, his heart….{.and 3 long distance phone calls!} They hugged, cried and said good-bye.
Later, when Kathy’s husband, Bruce was leaving to drive back to Lake Havasu..he stopped to thank the man and his family himself. Bruce told the man he was Kathy’s hero..thanked him again. The man looked at Bruce and said..
“No..you are our hero..we didn’t know if we were going to have a real Thanksgiving or Christmas this year..now, thanks to Owen, we will..”
One small dog, one huge desert, one group of friends and strangers, one gracious God.
One happy ending…
Thank you for praying, thank “Ron ” for calling..thank the people of Arivaca, thank God. And thanks to the Great Dane..that coyote may still be runnin’….. 🙂
There is a ton of color in our yard these days. Most of it is coming from the rose bushes that are everywhere. They remind me…
When I was a little girl, my dad took the family to the Tournament of Roses Parade. It was a pretty big deal. However, in order to get a real spot on the curb to watch the whole thing we had to stake out a chunk of space on the sidewalk in down town Pasadena. It was so strange to be sleeping outside with a million other people—on the pavement. Uncomfortable and awkward–but exciting at the same time.
I remember there were some scary looking hippies—sorry, that’s what we called them back then—who were smoking something when we got there. They played guitars and sang nearly all night. My dad rigged up some kind of Bunsen Burner deal and made hot chocolate for us and shared some to them as well. The smoking stopped immediately because there were “little dudes around.”
My cute dad was always one for heading off any signs of trouble–at the pass–and making friend with everyone. Sometimes it scared my mom half to death–but he felt like being kind and friendly right up front, was the best way to keep us all safe.
As we kids started to fall asleep the singers’ music got softer and more lullaby-like. I vaguely remember a slow, sweet version of Puff the Magic Dragon as I drifted off to sleep. While we slept, some other group of people set up chairs right in front of us, completely blocking our view of the street. We woke to the sound of the “hippies” physically escorting the curb poachers far, far away from our space.
I’m sure it was a wonderful parade–maybe it even had something to do with roses. Sincerely, I can’t remember one speck of it. What I do remember is my dad shaking hands and patting the backs of some new, very different friends. Friends that didn’t look so scary any more.
