Tag Archives: guide dog

Guide Dog Tale: Until the Storm Passes

 

UNTIL THE STORM PASSES

By Carolyn Dale Newell

You are my hiding place; You shall preserve me from trouble; You shall surround me with songs of deliverance. Selah

Psalm 32:7 NKJV

 

I snuggled beneath the warm covers. Iva raised up, but she curled up between us. Good! She would go back to sleep. Iva possesses an internal clock with a 6 AM alarm that usually is flawless. My phone announced lightening had been detected within a four-mile radius. Hopefully, Iva would sleep until the storm passed.

Siri announced another notification about rain. I barely heard it above the thunder cracking and waves breaking outside our oceanfront hotel.

Thoughts rushed through my head. I would have to dig out our matching glow-worm green rain coats. Iva hates her raincoat, because she doesn’t want anything on her head. If we go out now, the thunder may frighten Iva. She never reacts to it, but that can always change. taking her out to the bathroom could result in getting struck by lightning. Not likely, but possible. Please Lord, let the storm pass by before Iva awakes.

Lightening flashed. Iva stirred. I laid still. She nestled up to my husband. She moved blankets and pillows to lay her head on his chest. Daddy, keep me safe from the lightening.

I drifted back to sleep. I woke up when my hubby was taking Iva out. All that remained of the storm was a drizzle. Iva returned to our room slightly damp.

When our path takes us through the storms of life, we often focus on the what-ifs. We stress about every possible scenario our storm could present. None of my fears came to fruition. Iva was spared from the humiliation of her raincoat. Thunder failed to startle her, and no one was struck by lightning.

Iva came through the storm with just a few raindrops on her. Thanks to my husband, I benefited from the storm by gaining a few minutes of sleep.

Storms threaten us. They hold us hostage to our own anxieties. Many storms are extremely serious. An illness. A death. An accident. Finances, family, jobs, addictions, heartache, pain, sorrow, prodigals, abandonment, grief, and the list go on. These storms damage and destroy, but we add to their destruction by our what-ifs.

When the thunder rolls and lightening splits the sky, we can take a hint from Iva. We must snuggle up to our heavenly Daddy. Move things out of the way. Push them aside like Iva pawed at the sheets. We can nestle under our Father’s wings in safety and security.

Instead of asking, “what if,” let’s ask, “who will?” God will! His wings dim the lightening bolts. He softens the thunder. He keeps us dry and warm, until the storm passes.

Copyright 2018 Carolyn Dale Newell.

Advertisements

Guide Dog Tales Vol. 29

GUIDE DOG TALES VOL 29

By Carolyn Dale Newell

It is surprising how people offer assistance when I walk with Iva more than when I walked with a white cane. I needed more help as a cane user than a guide dog handler.

On our drive to the beach, we stopped at Cracker Barrell, one of our favorite restaurants. Iva rested quietly under our table. One year ago, to the day, (October 8) Iva and I graduated from Guiding Eyes for the Blind. Her table manners are remarkable. I recall how much she moved around during meals at school. Plus, she had a taste for the chairs. I covered that in prayer, and God answered.

I finished my salad, so Iva and I headed towards the restrooms. Iva looked for an opening to turn left as I commanded her. Skreetchingg witches, autumn displays, and customers obstructed the aisles.

Joy, the hostess, approached us, inquiring about Iva. Joy’s love for dogs shone like the mid-day sun.

She offered to escort us to the lady’s room as the crowd thickened. I have never been so grateful because she warned us about a puddle of water the toilet splashed out in the handicap stall. Iva prefers it. I coaxed Iva into a smaller one, and Joy waited for us. Joy noted how Iva watches and protects me as she walked us to the door leading outside. She chatted a few minutes. I assured her we were fine waiting for my husband. Joy slipped inside, but she returned shortly to check on us.

We never require that amount of aid, but I could not deny her. I thought of all the times I have wished someone would help. Finding someone willing to go the distance like that is rare. I prefer it to the folks who walk right by thinking I see nothing. Yes, I see some of them.

Kindness is a fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23) like joy. Kindness costs us nothing. A smile to a stranger. A friendly greeting to someone at the check-out. A hug to the lonely lady at church. A few encouraging words to the cancer survivor. The hand supporting the gentleman unsteady on his feet. The arm that leads the blind.

Kindness appears to be minimal, and we forget to offer it. Our busy schedules restrain us from the few minutes that mean the world to someone else. Sacrificial moments enable us to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Who can you be kind to today?