As Thelma and I slowly continued on up the paved dune searching for Jack, she began telling stories. “I’ve rescued a lot of dogs from shelters. Most of ‘em look pretty good after a thorough scrubbing.”

Although we didn’t see Jack, we did see the car he’d followed, parked in front of one of the high-up cottages. If we couldn’t find him, I would double back and check there.

Continuing around several curves, we began moving down and eventually came to the spot where Jack had become confused. There he was, standing in the rain as if to say, “I was here. Where were you?”

Panting from his long loop up the road and down again, he gratefully hopped into the back seat, immediately leaning forward to get sniff-acquainted with Thelma. His tail wagged enthusiastically, and reaching back to pat his head, she said, “I told you. Dogs love me.”

Heading out of the subdivision, I listened to her describe how she liked helping people clean up their yards, saying it took her many sessions to complete one. “You gotta work on ‘em slow and steady. There’s too many leaves for one time.” She listed the names of those she’d already raked, and I recognized many of them.

Driving out into the country I said, “You’ll have to tell me which way to go.”

“Just keep on goin’,” she said, pointing out the front windshield.

Sure enough, about 6 miles inland from Lake Michigan she finally said, “There,” pointing to a small wooden house. “That’s where I live.”

As she got out of the car I rolled down the window, letting the rain pour in. She thanked me and nodded toward the house. “It’s adequate. More important, it was built with love. God has always taken good care of me.”

She patted the wet car as she walked alongside it, probably for support, and then turned around and said, “God go with you.”

I waited in the driveway to be sure she would get in, but she was playing a waiting game, too, making sure I backed out safely. As we both looked at each other, her hand on the doorknob and mine on the steering wheel, it was as if God said, “I love Thelma. Make sure you do, too.”

Eventually I waved through my open window and backed away, praying the prayer I so often pray: “Lord, what do you want me to think about all this?”

And he gave me this thought: “Think about how Thelma trusts me to take care of her. Today I coaxed Jack to follow the wrong car so I could give her a ride home. Without him running off, you wouldn’t have seen her. I set it up for her, and lucky you. You got to deliver it.”

Then he said something else. “See how I care for Thelma? I’ll always do the same for you.”

The Lord said, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.” (Jeremiah 31:3)