Messengers: Two Daves and a Cat Named Snickers

Here are several isolated stories.  Although seemingly not related, I will weave them together with a few concluding comments.

Story #1:

This morning as I buzzed around our son’s house (Fritz jr’s) accomplishing homemaker chores (laundry, dishes, etc.), I noticed his cat, Snickers, lying outstretched in a comfy-looking position beside the freestanding wood-burning stove.  She’d been so named because of her calico coat with colors resembling those in a Snickers bar: caramel, cocoa, and beige, plus white and black.  She looked relaxed and happy, except that the morning sun was streaming through the window straight into her open yellow eyes.  Wow, I thought, cats much have incredible eyes to withstand direct sunlight like that.

A few minutes later I was ready to mop the kitchen floor, and saw she was still in the exact same position.  As I stared at her eyes, still reflecting prisms of sunlight, dread swept over me.  I touched her head and she didn’t flinch.  Her body was cold.  Stiff.  She was DEAD.

Her master took the body to the woods and dug a grave.  Riley, Fritz's golden retriever (and Snickers’ companion and friend), was the only other graveside witness.

Story #2:

On the way out of Lafayette on my way back to Michigan, I swung through Buck Creek to return a coffee mug that belonged to a friend.  I also stopped spontaneously at the Post Office to say hello to the postmaster, Dave, a long-standing personal friend.  His wife had been battling with cancer back in June when we moved, and I was interested to see how she was doing.

The medical report was encouraging, and I was glad I’d stopped.  Dave and I chatted comfortably for a few minutes, just like old times, and I had that same pang as before: nothing had changed in Buck Creek except MY STATUS.  Before leaving I said, “Hey Dave, it was pretty weird when I first came in.  When I saw our old box I almost walked over to unlock it out of habit!”  There was mail in box #154 – our old box.  Of course I knew it was someone else’s mail.  Of course.

Dave disappeared from the service window and said, “Well now, let me get your mail for you!  I’ve been keeping whatever has come in with your name on it, although it’s mostly junk mail that couldn’t be legally forwarded.  Still, you might want something.”

Evidently the box wasn’t being used by anyone else.  Dave still honored it as ours, even though we weren’t paying for it and didn’t own a key! 

What if I’d NEVER stopped by?  Dave would have saved our mail anyway, at least for a while…just in case.  It struck me that this kind of advocacy went far beyond the job description of a postmaster.  This man was a true servant.

Story #3:

A couple of nights ago I was fortunate to visit Fritz’s BSF class.   Usually I would have been encouraged to attend a women’s class in this situation (when visiting another city), but Fritz was granted special permission for me to attend. 

It was AMAZING to witness hundreds of men singing hymns while gathered to study the Bible together.  Their voices were powerful; their eyes were focused and direct, but full of light.

The teaching leader, whose name was Dave, delivered an incredible lecture when the guys returned after discussing the lesson in their small groups.  I’d expected Dave to be profound, well organized, and inspiring, because Fritz had already tipped me off.  However, I wasn’t prepared for him to be so humble, astoundingly brilliant, and compelling.  I sat, enraptured, and couldn’t write fast enough to take effective notes since every word that came out of his mouth was meaningful. Our lesson for the week had been on Isaiah 7, and I was drawn to verse 9:

“If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all.”

Throughout his lecture Dave ended up harkening back to this verse. I managed to catch a few of his comments:

“A fear of, and faith in, God leads to courageous, not just easy, living.”

“Faith isn’t a state of being, but a state of doing.”

“Faith makes ordinary men extraordinary!”

“God expects us to take steps (not leaps) of faith.”

“The ability to withstand life’s difficulties is dependent upon faith in God.”

“God has provided a way to save us: faith in Him and His ways.”

“God is patient and gracious.  He doesn’t expect our faith to be blind!”

 Concluding Remarks:

The drive from our son’s house (south and west of Lafayette) to our Michigan house takes almost 4 hours.  During the drive this afternoon, I kept thinking about the events of the week, and particularly these three most recent incidents. 

Within 48 hours three different unexpected messengers had left marks: messengers of death, advocacy, and faith.

As the miles clicked by, I felt overwhelmed, as if with recognition that every circumstance in life also reflects a heavenly dimension if we only have eyes to see it.  When I finally arrived, it was with a full heart.  The sun was setting, and a golden glow spread over the sky and lake.  The cumulative message? Peace.

Thanks, Snickers.  Your death helped me appreciate life today, but with the perspective that I will also have my turn with the grave.

Thanks, Postmaster Dave.  Your example as a public servant reflected truths about my Perfect Advocate – the One who bridges the gap between death and life, the One who pleads my case before the Father.

Thanks, Lecturer Dave.  Your confessions, insights, and challenges inspired me to “stand firm in faith” because of your own powerful influence and witness to faith in that One.