Something happened to me last week, and I feel really compelled to share this with you. Because the more I think about the chain of events that took place, the more I realize there is a message I’m supposed to tell.

To catch you up to speed, I walk dogs as a way to raise extra money to put towards my children’s book business that I’ve spent the last 12 months building. Last Friday, when I arrived to one of my dog client’s houses, I arrived to a very sick dog.

I hadn’t realized how bad the situation was at first, just that the dog had thrown up while waiting in his crate for my arrival.

He’s a puppy, so this can be common. So I took the giant puppy, and his big Husky brother, outside as fast as I could, figuring it best I just take them for a walk now, and I’ll clean up the vomit when we return in about 30 minutes.

Except, we didn’t return in 30 minutes.

On a normal day, our route spans about 1.1 miles out and 1.1 miles back, so just a little over 2 miles round-trip. We walk around the neighborhood streets, which are usually quiet and empty during the day while everyone is at work. Some houses are unkempt while others appear to be their owner’s pride and joy. It’s a mixture of sights, a rollercoaster of a visual ride if you will, that so accurately represents both the pride, and exhaustion, of America’s working class.

Half the block is usually shaded, while the other half takes direct sunlight, so the dogs and I crisscross the neighborhood streets accordingly. Rarely do we see people. So the dogs (and myself) often enjoy fully uninterrupted strides of silence as every bush is sniffed, every mailbox is marked, and every loose piece of food on the ground meets the belly of one of the two beasts at the end of my lead.

I do my best to look like a professional dogwalker, maintaining control over 130 pounds of solid animal, with a few extra pounds of poop flinging around simultaneously in my hands as well. The lack of distractions always makes it easier, of course. But insert an unexpected person or 3rd-party dog into this equation and, well, God help me.

And then last Friday happened.

We were about halfway into our walk when the first squat occurred. It was the giant puppy. In which out came a giant pile of brown soup. (Sorry). Never fun to pick up, I gave it my best grab and on we went. Until the giant puppy squatted again. Pure liquid. Ok this isn’t good. Any shot of me picking up poop at this point was out the window. So we carried on, almost to our 1.1 mile mark. And then the third squat came. Pure blood.

Oh God no. Ok, I’ve dealt with this before. It will be ok. I just need to get this dog back home. No more walking for him. He just needs to drink water right now and rest while I call his owner.

He pulled over on the grass again. More blood. Then again. More blood. It was coming out like a faucet.

At this point, I had a lot of concerns, but dehydration was quickly rising to the top as we were a mile out in 95 degree weather.

And just as if the giant puppy had heard my concerns about dehydration, he looked back up at me with sad, distressed eyes, and projectile vomited everywhere.

Holy sh—t. Oh my God. I instantly grabbed my phone to call his owner.

Instantly….grabbed….my……wait……my phone was gone.

No! No. No, this cannot be happening. My phone isn’t here. I had it at the beginning of our walk, and now it isn’t here.

In total denial, I turned the drawstring bag I always carry with me upside down, shaking every last item out of it, refusing to believe my phone went missing. Everything spilled out of my bag, none of which was my phone.

The giant puppy was miserable and trying to hug me again. He no longer wanted to walk. He was terrified. We both were terrified. Even big brother Husky looked terrified. Here we all were, a little less than a mile from their home, in the dead of the Florida summer heat, having a medical emergency. With no phone, or anyone in sight to help us.

We were at a standstill. Literally.

So I called out to the only other person I knew that could possibly help me. The only person who I still had faith was with me, because, isn’t that what He’s always promised?

It went like this:

God? I know you’re here. I’m not doubting you. I’m not asking IF you’re here, but I’m calling out to you right now because I KNOW you are here with me. With that, I need your help. Like, right now. Please protect this dog and help us get back to the house safely. His safety is my #1 priority right now, even though I have no phone, no computer, no wallet, no nothing to figure out how to help him. I am completely alone, but I believe you are here with me.

The giant puppy had really slowed down by this point, but I kept praying. I had faith in God and felt that we should keep trying to walk slowly back to their house. I felt this push, almost as if He was walking behind me, his arms politely forcing me to move forward. House by house. Street by street. We inched along until we made it back.

Thankfully both dogs rushed over to their water bowls and started drinking feverishly. Thank God, I thought to myself. Thank God they’re drinking. This is a good sign.

I raced around the house hoping to find a landline phone, a laptop, anything that would give me some connection to society. But there was nothing.

Maybe there’s cameras.

I hadn’t seen any in the past, but figured it was worth a shot.

I started running around the house yelling for help, flailing my arms all over the place, hoping for once that my clients WERE crazy helicopter parents who just might be watching my every move.

But still, nothing.

I looked at both dogs, and both dogs looked back to me for help. And as if on cue again, the giant puppy looked up at me with saddened, distressed eyes and projectile vomited, again. This time it was all the water he had just drank.

Oh. My. God.

I had two choices at this point. Find the closest vet, with no phone, no wallet, no GPS, and no way whatsoever to notify their owner. Or, get in my car and do one last attempt at trying to find my phone in the neighborhood.

I looked at both dogs. I looked up. I prayed once more. And I ran out the door.

I accelerated. I braked. I drove down the left side of the road, I swerved back to the right side of the road. Never once looking in front of me, but instead scanning every inch of sidewalk and grass our feet and paws had touched. Accelerate. Break. Scan. Accelerate. Break. Swerve. Scan. The fact that, still, nobody was outside was the only way I was able to avoid an accident.

I had finished driving our route. No phone.

I drove it again. No phone.

I was literally helpless at this point. I had nothing. I was completely alone. And I was out of options.

God, I NEED your help right now. I know you would never forsake me. I know you are with me in this moment. I know you helped get the dogs and I back home into the A/C. But right now, I don’t know what else to do. My phone is gone. My wallet is gone. YOU know what I need in this very moment. You are with me right now.

Please God, help me get out of this situation. I cannot do this without you.

And then, a garage door opened.

About one house down on the left, in front of me.

A man walked outside on his driveway, and I quickly shut off my car and ran over to him. In that short distance of a run, I lost it. I broke down crying as I approached him, somewhat startling him.

“Sir! I need help. Can I use your phone?” He looked back at me, a bit uneasy. “I’m a dogwalker here for a neighbor down the way, and one of the dogs is having an emergency. I lost my phone and wallet while walking them, and I can’t find it in the neighborhood anywhere.”

I promised him I was a good person, that I didn’t want to bother him, but I just didn’t know what else to do.

He responded with a slow, “Sure….” and took his time walking back into his house to get the phone. When he came back out, I tried to explain more, asking if he knew the owner, but he didn’t. Somehow in the conversation about dogs, he realized that I was, indeed, in an emergency, and he then quickly handed me his phone.

I called my fiancé in hopes he could get into my Rover account and find the owner’s phone number. But my fiancé didn’t pick up. I called again. Still nothing.

“Call your phone,” the man urged. My phone is literally always on silent. It’s not going to do anything. Reluctantly, I called it. No answer. No ringer. Just the letdown I was already expecting. We both stood and looked at each other.

“What about a vet?” I asked eagerly. “Do you know where the closest vet is?” He pulled up his GPS and started explaining to me how to get there. I was trying to make sure I fully understood the directions because again, I’d have no GPS if I couldn’t find it, because I had no phone.

I think he saw the doubt in my eyes as I looked back at him. He stopped talking and we both just looked at each other. God, please.

And in that moment, I heard a voice behind me say, “Excuse me, did someone lose a phone?”

We both flung ourselves around to find a girl walking up to us, low and behold, with my phone in her hand. “Oh my God, yes!” we both replied back to her. “I just saw it in the street. Here you go. Glad you got it back.” And just as the words “Thank You” could stammer out of my mouth, she got in a car and drove away.

The man and I both looked at each other, our jaws nearly hitting the driveaway. Who? Where? How??

Out of the 2 miles that my phone could’ve been sitting at. Out of the 100+ houses in those 2 miles that a garage door could’ve opened. Out of the 2 miles that a girl could’ve appeared out of nowhere and picked up my phone. Out of the 2 miles that I could’ve stopped and given my one last plea to God at.

Science would say there’s less than a 1% chance of this all coming together. Yet, it did.

And there He was, doing His work, right in front of me.

He showed up. Not just when, but WHERE I needed Him the most.

I quickly and graciously gave my thanks to the kind man and jumped in my car, calling the owner as I sped back to the dogs’ home. I ran through the door, grateful to see the two dogs waiting for me on the other side. No additional vomits. No additional accidents. Just two anxious dogs wondering what the heck was going on.

I explained everything to the owner, sent pictures, video, and ensured the dogs kept drinking water. The owner confessed to me that the beloved giant puppy counter surfed 4 chicken breasts the night before, and that this was likely the cause of his upset stomach. The owner, who also happens to be a flight nurse and paramedic, didn’t feel a vet trip was necessary, but I assured him I’d stay at the house until I felt confident the dogs were ok.

Over the next hour as I cleaned up all the mess, the dog’s panting subsided. The vomiting and diarrhea stopped. And both of them were drinking and holding water down.

Thank you God.

“See, I’m always here for you. I love you that much.”

On my drive home later that afternoon, as I was replaying the day’s events, trying to understand how that all possibly happened, I suddenly felt consumed by this immense feeling of love. As if I was being wrapped up in my father’s arms and hearing him say, “See. I’m always here for you. I love you that much.”

I literally swear I heard those words out loud, “I love you that much.”

Which is when it hit me like a bag of bricks. I’m supposed to pass this message on to you. This feeling of love, of being swept up in His arms, the comfort of knowing that in our worst moments, He is there, ready to give an overwhelming, overabundant amount of LOVE. Even when the odds are stacked against us.

He literally just did this for me. And I have this overwhelming feeling that I’m supposed to share this story to show you just how much God loves YOU and will be there for you when you call out to Him. I just know it. I can feel it.

And so just like He answered my prayer, I’m answering His.

He knows who needs Him right now, even if those people don’t realize it yet. And I bet He knew that if I shared this story, some of those people just might be reading this. So at His request, I want you to know, that you are SO loved. He loves you. He loves you SO much that He is constantly with you, watching over you, at all times. He knows what’s best for you, and He’s ready to help you as soon as you’re ready to ask.

Sometimes we go through really tough times, that in hindsight, actually happen in order to help others.

And you know what? I’m ok with that. I’ll take it. That’s part of our life’s purpose, after all.

Lately I’ve been hearing Him tell me to stop wasting time on certain things, and to instead spend it using the gifts He gave me. To stop worrying about things that don’t matter to Him. Just give to others the gift that He blessed me with - which I believe is the ability to write - and He will take care of the rest.

I wasn’t quite sure specifically what He meant, but as I finished typing these last few words, I guess I just realized, this is what He intended all along.

All my love, and it’s good to be back. :)

Kristin