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The long walk home

Connie L. Jones

It was one of those rare occasions that I had had to go downtown to work. Although it was the middle of September, the sun was unusually hot, so I decided to go straight home and change into shorts before grabbing the stroller and walking to pick up my kids from Serena’s, the sitter who lived just across the alley.

The timing was perfect. I would be able to pick up my two youngest just as Jared, my son in grade two, was due back from school.

Serena and I had just started to round up my kids when Jared and his friend came blasting through the front door. They were in tears, and their trembling voices came so fast I could hardly understand a word. Through the gibberish, I heard Jared voice one of his worst fears: “Big dog chasing . . . growling. . . . Mom, where’s the van”?

I thought, of all days to decide to walk the kids home! I wondered about just skipping across the alley and into our backyard, except our gate was padlocked and the key was in the house. We had no choice. We had to walk.

Although it was only around the block, we were all concerned that we’d meet up with the dogs that had chased Jared and his friend. Alert and anxious, we began to walk. The boys were shaking and in tears. I began to calculate how long it would take me to hoist the boys and the stroller onto a parked car. Or would it be safer if my daughter walked, as slow as that would be, so that I could beat the dogs off with the stroller? I came to the conclusion that no matter how I looked at it, we’d be defenceless.

“Okay,” I said. “We’re all a little nervous about these dogs. Let’s stop and pray. We’ve got Someone who can keep us safer than anything. After all, He made those dogs, right”?

We stopped walking, and in the middle of the sidewalk I knelt down. “Dear Jesus” I prayed, “there are some mean dogs nearby. We can’t see them, but You can. Please make them go the other way so that we can walk home safely. I pray that if they do see us, they will also see a great big angel beside us, guarding us, so they’ll get scared and run away. Thank you, Lord, that You said You would never leave us.”

We continued to walk, furtively glancing around. As we turned the first corner, a car pulled up behind us, and a lady rolled down her window. “Have you seen two pit bulls running around here”? she asked.

I told her that the kids had run across one a while ago and that we were trying to avoid them.

“You’ve got to get your kids off the street,” she replied. “One of those dogs is very vicious”!

The boys began sobbing openly. “Thanks for the warning,” I said, “but we’ve got to go around the block to get home.”

“Seriously, you’ve got to get off the street,” she replied.

“Do you think you could give us a ride? It’s not that far.”

The lady had a baby in the rear of the car, a blond, smiling boy. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she smiled. “But I will drive beside you until you reach your house.”

I smiled and thanked her, relieved that at least we had an escort and if worst came to worst, maybe we could jump in.

Slowly we walked, looking around each bush, corner, house and stump. Our escort’s car was always about four feet in front, graciously keeping pace with us.

Five more houses to go. We were almost home, and I could finally feel some measure of relief that I wouldn’t have to beat bloodthirsty pit bulls off my children today. I breathed a prayer of thanks. Then I stopped dead in my tracks. My boys jumped and looked at me in fright. “What is it Mom”? they screamed, tripping over each other in their efforts to stay close.

I laughed. “Praise God”! I whispered. “He did it”! This time, the tears in my eyes weren’t there because of fear, but because heaven felt just a little bit closer than it had before. “Guys, do you remember what I prayed for? I prayed for an angel to walk with us and scare the dogs away. Look! We’ve got this kind lady driving her car right beside us, keeping us safe. She’s the angel we prayed for! God answered, like He always does”!

The boys looked toward the car, but we had reached the house. I hurried to the front door and let the kids in, then turned to thank our escort, hoping to talk with her a moment. But when I started to walk toward her car, she smiled brilliantly, waved and drove away.

It’s funny, but I can’t remember the make of her car. To this day, her face is a mystery to me, and whether her hair was long and dark or short and blonde I couldn’t say. I thank God for sending her to me, whether she was from around the block or some more celestial neighbourhood.

My children experienced the miracle of answered prayer that afternoon. More importantly, they experienced a tangible, accessible God. They still talk about that day, and about how God truly never leaves them or forgets them.

Connie L. Jones is a member of West Portal MB Church in Saskatoon.

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Last modified September 18, 1999.

© 1999 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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