Channeling Mary.

Right now one of the books I am reading is She Did What She Could by Elisa Morgan.

The book revolves around Mary of Bethany, sister of Martha.  It revolves around all of us Marys.

With some of the people that come into my branch, there’s not always much I can do to help them.

Rather than give this—and that—and then some more, only to eventually fall, spent, at [the feet of Jesus], [Mary] gave what she could and left it at that.  Enough.  A lot.  Just right.  She chose what she could—and gave it ungrudgingly.

Today, I had the opportunity to give what I could.

There are many different types of men who enter the bank.

Young men starting out on their life journeys.  Fathers focused on their children.  Nervous fiancées planning their future.  Teachers who have changed lives.  Doctors who have saved lives.  And sometimes a warrior whose outer shell appears too hard by ages of tribulations to be permeated by sadness.

In our only previous time together, this warrior and I did not share much dialogue.  He was cordial, but short, anticipating the end of a long day.  His wife is a frequent customer who often stops by with Bear, their Pekingese.  I asked about their pup, trying to spark friendly conversation.  He graciously nodded and quietly exited the bank, appearing untouched by the inquiry.

It was only during our second visit that God blessed me with a special view.

I greeted the warrior by name as he entered the branch.  A small smile touched his tired face while he compiled his transaction.

As he walked to my counter, nothing seemed to be different.

And in a moment, as I asked him how he was, it all changed.

His face creased and his eyes watered as he told me about Bear.

“Yeah…just went to the vet,” he mumbled.  He shook his head, “Congenital heart failure, they said.”

In shattered words he began to tell me about their little pet, having come to live with them some few years ago when their daughter couldn’t care for him anymore.

He told me Bear was 11 years old, which is younger for a small dog.  It was touching to listen to this gruff man recount his memories and his love for Bear.  To watch him open his heart to me was almost a paralyzing event.  I was dumbfounded for a moment before I quickly regained my senses and offered the only thing I could…love by way of listening.

“I ran over him once with my big truck,” he smiled as tears streamed down his cheek.  “And where most dogs would have bitten and growled he just lay there and let me pick him up.  He is the most gentle dog ever…I loved to get the lion cut on him,” he said.  “What color is yours?”

“Black with tan spots…”

“Yeah, Pekingese are good little dogs...”  His mind was elsewhere at this point, drifting into fond chronicles of the last decade.

When we parted I felt like I had truly been blessed to have been invited into this man’s life.  The hours passed, and at the end of the work day I dialed his wife’s number.

She picked up the phone and after I tenderly told her who I was, I said, “I heard about your dog and I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

She paused a moment and lovingly told me of Bear’s passing.  He had stopped eating and had been taken to the vet a few days ago.  They tested him for different things, and when they received the results he was further along in his pain.

“That dog biscuit,” she sobbed, “that you gave us yesterday was the first thing he had eaten in a week.”

It broke my heart, especially having lost my cat on Wednesday.  He also had stopped eating.

“The vets are so sweet,” she went on to say.  “When [one of them] called me to tell me it was time, she said, ‘It’s time, but I can’t do it; I can’t be the one to do it.’  Isn’t that sweet?”

I almost started sobbing right along with her.  As we spoke, her other line began to beep, and I said to her, “I’m sorry, I didn’t really know what to say, but I just wanted to – ”  “You did the right thing,” she said through sniffles.  “Hug your Pekingese tonight for me.”

And I certainly did.  I picked Cheeyo up in my arms and hugged him like I hadn’t in a long time.

⁶ “Leave her alone,” said Jesus.  “Why are you bothering her?  She has done a beautiful thing to me.  ⁷ The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want.  But you will not always have me.  ⁸ She did what she could.  She poured perfume on y body beforehand to prepare for my burial.  ⁹ I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15).