God does answer our prayers, maybe not the way we expect

Last week, the unknown author had invited her father to come live with her and her husband on their small farm after he had suffered a heart attack. However, the father’s belligerent attitude was a strain on the couple’s marriage. They prayed for guidance.

The author sought help and was told by a sympathetic listener to get the father a dog. She went to animal shelter and picked out a ragged looking pointer.

The story continues…

“I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house and was helping my prize out of the car, Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

“‘Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!’ I said excitedly.

“Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust.

“‘If I had wanted a dog, I would have gotten one. I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don’t want it.’ Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

“Anger rose inside me. It squeezed my throat muscles together and pounded my temples. ‘You had better get used to him, Dad, he’s staying!’ Dad ignored me. ‘Did you hear me, Dad?’ I screamed.

“At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

“We stood glaring at each other, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

“Dad’s lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship.

“Dad named the pointer “Cheyenne.”

“Together, he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad’s bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.

“Then one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne ‘s cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father’s room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene, but his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

“Two days later, my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad ‘s bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug on which he had slept. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad ‘s peace of mind.

“The morning of Dad ‘s funeral was overcast and dreary. However, I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church.

“The pastor’s eulogy was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. The pastor quoted Hebrews 13:2. ‘Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.’ “‘I’ve often thanked God for sending that angel,’ he said.

“The past starting flowing into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before the sympathetic voice had read me the article about dogs helping the elderly. Cheyenne’s unexpected appearance at the animal shelter, his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father, and the proximity of their deaths. Suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.”

God does answers our prayers, maybe not the way we expect.