The Woman and Her Dog and The Rain

August 31, 2021 Georgia Tanner

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:5-7,13

She was still there, the woman and her dog in the rain. I had seen her an hour before as we turned right off the frontage road on our way to the family-owned restaurant here in Amarillo. The rain clouds had hovered across the skyline as we drove into town, blue and heavy with misty sheets of rainfall in the distance. We had loaded our belongings into the Quonset barn with polished concrete floors, Pottery Barn furnishings, and the homemade brownies welcoming us under their glass dome and then climbed back into the car in search of dinner as the rain started. It was our fourth city in seven days. We had explored Memphis and Eureka Springs and Oklahoma City on this journey to see some of America.

Our bellies were full of Texas steak and mac and cheese, the night had fallen, and the rain fell with it. Not a downpour, but a solid steady rain. And the woman I had seen earlier was still there in the dark; her hair pulled up on her head in a topknot, a sign in her hand, her poncho dripping, her dog beneath her. As I dug in my wallet for a bill, my hand fell on a 20. That seemed right. The light turned red as we pulled up beside her. She turned her head to look at us with a beautiful smile as she accepted the money and said to her dog, “It’s time to get a motel room.”

We watched her run across the street toward the neon on the corner. She paused to look back at us, sharing her amusement with us that her dog had taken her sign into his mouth. He was still a puppy. She was younger and prettier than I had expected. Her face, glowing in the dark night, stayed with me as we drove away.

It was the second time that night my eyes had filled with tears.

Earlier I had watched the story unfold of a Special Olympics athlete who had apparently lost her leg in military combat. On the television screen photographs of the destroyed Humvee she was in filled the frame. There were photographs of her as a little girl with two well-formed legs performing gymnastics. There was a close-up photograph of her as she lay in a hospital bed, her face covered in cuts from the explosion. There was video footage of her strapping a prosthetic onto her thigh and training to run again. There was interview footage as she explained her journey, determined and smiling.

There are windows we look at the world through. Sometimes it is a car window. Sometimes it is a television screen. Sometimes it is a kitchen window as the sun comes up. I had left on this journey with the hope in my heart to be an encouragement to others. I have had conversations with hard-working hotel front desk managers and hip young waitresses. What has surprised me is that I didn't expect them to encourage me.

I am riding through an America with flags flying at half-mast. There are storms in other lands and there are storms here in our own hometowns. It is all too easy to feel the weight of oppression and the heaviness of despair. But looking through my window I see faces of people who are holding onto hope.

All joy, all peace, overflowing with hope. We forget Paul wrote this from his own difficulties to encourage others. As I thumb through other passages here in his letter to the Romans, I find yet more words of instruction and encouragement.

Hold fast to what is good.

Love one another with brotherly affection.

Outdo one another showing honor.

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.

Paul describes God as “the God who gives endurance and encouragement” and “the God of hope”. It is through the power of the Holy Spirit that we are able to overflow with hope. It is in glorifying the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ that we are unified in love for one another.

So, this is a word of encouragement to you. It comes to you from the smile of a young girl and her dog in the rain. It comes to you from the patient endurance and determination of a woman with one leg. It comes to you from a woman looking out on the sunrise after the night of rain. Your hope is not in this world. Your hope is in a powerful God.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” And may your Hope spill over into the lives of those around you. And be an encouragement.

A postscript. I wrote this Tuesday morning before Jeff and I went hiking in the canyon. Red mud formed from the rainstorms the night before cut our hiking short. Returning to town at the end of the day, a quarter-mile from the lovely barn where we are staying, we were tee boned by an oncoming pickup truck. I saw it the moment before it hit us. I woke to darkness from the airbags deploying and smoke from their propellant and Jeff asking me if I was okay. I couldn't tell. My right arm, with pain shooting through it, lay in my lap. Searing pain in my chest made it difficult to breathe. I was in shock. People outside our vehicle on this country road had already gathered to ask, "Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay?"

A woman put me and Maybelle into her car so we could get her away from the scene while we waited for the police. Dalles, who owns the farm where we are staying, brought his pickup truck to load all our belongings (40 days’ worth) into it as Jeff waited for the wrecker. His wife, Bobbie, a Nurse Practitioner, examined the abrasions on my arm, brought us Motrin, ice packs, and dinner. She reminded me to wake her in the night if we needed emergency care. Her husband took her to work today so she could leave her car with the keys in it for our use. Tonight, as new storms roll in, the prairie wind blows through my hair and thunder sings its song in the distance, I watch Jeff reload our rental SUV. We will leave in the morning for Sante Fe just as we had planned. Bruised and a little broken, but we are okay. We are good.

And I am reminded, like a shot through this still-beating heart, that God goes before us, and He guards us from behind, and He walks beside us. And once again, when I plan on being an encouragement to another, I am overwhelmingly encouraged by others – by the kindness of strangers and the provision of our great God. All I can say, over and over and over again, is thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Lord.

May your Hope spill over into the lives of those around you. And be an encouragement.