Trusting Four Legs
I've been blind since birth. Got my first guide dog at nineteen, and by the time this happened in 2021, I was on my third dog — a golden retriever named Solomon. Best dog I ever had. Calm, smart, completely reliable.
We walked the same route to the train station every morning for two years. Solomon could do it in his sleep. Left at the post box, straight for three blocks, right at the park entrance, down the ramp.
The Morning He Stopped
One Tuesday in March, Solomon stopped dead at the corner of Elm and Fourth. I gave the forward command. He didn't move. I gave it again. Nothing.
This had never happened. Solomon was the most obedient dog I'd ever worked with. I checked his harness, checked his paws. He was fine. He just wouldn't go.
I was annoyed, honestly. I was going to miss my train. I said "Forward" a third time, firmly. He sat down.
Then I heard the crash.
What I Couldn't See
A delivery truck had run the red light at the intersection. It jumped the curb, plowed into the exact spot where I would have been standing if Solomon had obeyed my first command. I heard metal and glass and someone screaming.
Three steps. That's how close I was. If Solomon had listened to me, I would have been in the path of that truck.
People rushed over. Someone told me what happened. I dropped to my knees on the sidewalk and held Solomon's face in my hands and cried.
I prayed right there. "Thank you, God. Thank you for giving him better eyes than mine."
What This Means for You
Sometimes the things that frustrate you most — the delays, the refusals, the doors that won't open — are actually keeping you alive. Trust the pause. God sees what you can't. And sometimes he gives his protection four legs and a golden coat.