It’s Sunday, July 3rd. I’m by myself with a 12 year old boy that I am watching for a friend and three new puppies who are yelping for attention. The boy doesn’t like puppies. Thomas is in NYC visiting his brother Ben. He is not here to help me. Bill is in some place hot. I’m hot too. I have no help and I just receive a text from Thomas- he isn’t feeling well. Well, what am I supposed to about THAT? Why do boys feel the need to text when things go wrong? I am wilting from the heat and hot puppies.
After church, I got an idea- to invite P. over to help watch puppies for me. Her mom told me she loves the little guys. I don’t know the mom very well, but we have chatted a few times about her struggles as a mother- working part time, going to school, etc. She rarely has time to come over just to “chat”.
An hour later K brings her daughter P- we carry on a simple conversation and I invite her to sit on the grass in the shade. The three of us share wiggling, scratching, jumpy puppies and K. begins to answer a few simple questions, like- “were you raised with dogs?” For the next two hours, K. unfolds her life story- a troubled mom who died young, an overworked dad who only had an 8th grade education, a domineering grandmother who had adopted her mother… we spoke of being raised Roman Catholic and what that means as well as how faith plays a huge part in mothering… The door was opened. I am not fretting anymore. Rejoicing is more like it.
I haven’t spoken to her deeply since that time…but I am ready for the door to be opened just a little bit more and praying for her soul and her families’ to be awakened.
1Peter 3:15- always be ready.