This story has it's beginning two winters ago, that especially hard winter when snow and ice covered the landscape for days on end and the temperature never climbed above freezing.
In the wee hours of one of those cold mornings, just before sunrise, I headed out to the hay barn with King Edward by my side. When we reached the entrance, Edward stopped short and stood alert with hackles bristled. My old collie sensed danger lurking beyond the doorway. Just another wild critter trying to keep warm, I suspected, but to be safe I preceded with caution and eased open the door.
In the glow of the lantern, I watched Edward slowly make his way, like a seasoned bird dog stalking quail, toward a corner where the hay was piled high. When Edward barked, up popped a man and woman from under the straw.
The two stood motionless in the glare of the light, more frightened of the dog than of me. They were young and ragtag, far too thin and draped in tattered clothes. The man spoke in a shaky voice but his words made no sense to me.
I ushered them to the house where my wife, who is fluent in their native tongue, took over. I learned that his name was George and his wife's name was Juanita. They had journeyed a considerable distance in search of a dairy farm where it was rumored there was work to be had. Exhausted and cold, they could make it no farther and slipped into my barn. The dairy they were seeking is three miles farther down the road.
It was obvious that they were famished. My wife invited them to sit down to breakfast with us where they devoured everything put before them. When breakfast was over we gave them each a heavy coat that we no longer needed, two pairs of gloves and woolen caps. My wife made them a sack lunch and then I drove them the three miles to the dairy, at least they would be warm in the cab of the truck for a little while longer.
I know the foreman of the dairy, we're friends. I asked him to take care of these two young people if he could. I later learned from this man that George was hired on and turned out to be an exceptionally hard worker. I had no farther contact with George and Juanita until they showed up unexpectedly on my doorstep the Sunday before Valentine's.
All eventually know the fortunes, both good and bad, of the people who live in this small community. And so it was with the untimely and tragic death of our two collies last November, George and Juanita heard of our loss.
On that Sunday before Valentine's, with beaming smiles, George and Juanita presented my wife and I with a collie puppy. They hadn't forgotten the kindness we showed them and they wanted us to experience the warmth they felt on that cold winter morning, when they were lost and alone and we gave them comfort. This is where words failed me. All I was capable of uttering was, "Thank you."
The little collie has been with us now for two weeks. He is four months old and full of life. He has brightened up our home beyond measure. My wife says that he was sent from heaven. As a wise man once said: "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."
In the wee hours of one of those cold mornings, just before sunrise, I headed out to the hay barn with King Edward by my side. When we reached the entrance, Edward stopped short and stood alert with hackles bristled. My old collie sensed danger lurking beyond the doorway. Just another wild critter trying to keep warm, I suspected, but to be safe I preceded with caution and eased open the door.
In the glow of the lantern, I watched Edward slowly make his way, like a seasoned bird dog stalking quail, toward a corner where the hay was piled high. When Edward barked, up popped a man and woman from under the straw.
The two stood motionless in the glare of the light, more frightened of the dog than of me. They were young and ragtag, far too thin and draped in tattered clothes. The man spoke in a shaky voice but his words made no sense to me.
I ushered them to the house where my wife, who is fluent in their native tongue, took over. I learned that his name was George and his wife's name was Juanita. They had journeyed a considerable distance in search of a dairy farm where it was rumored there was work to be had. Exhausted and cold, they could make it no farther and slipped into my barn. The dairy they were seeking is three miles farther down the road.
It was obvious that they were famished. My wife invited them to sit down to breakfast with us where they devoured everything put before them. When breakfast was over we gave them each a heavy coat that we no longer needed, two pairs of gloves and woolen caps. My wife made them a sack lunch and then I drove them the three miles to the dairy, at least they would be warm in the cab of the truck for a little while longer.
I know the foreman of the dairy, we're friends. I asked him to take care of these two young people if he could. I later learned from this man that George was hired on and turned out to be an exceptionally hard worker. I had no farther contact with George and Juanita until they showed up unexpectedly on my doorstep the Sunday before Valentine's.
All eventually know the fortunes, both good and bad, of the people who live in this small community. And so it was with the untimely and tragic death of our two collies last November, George and Juanita heard of our loss.
On that Sunday before Valentine's, with beaming smiles, George and Juanita presented my wife and I with a collie puppy. They hadn't forgotten the kindness we showed them and they wanted us to experience the warmth they felt on that cold winter morning, when they were lost and alone and we gave them comfort. This is where words failed me. All I was capable of uttering was, "Thank you."
The little collie has been with us now for two weeks. He is four months old and full of life. He has brightened up our home beyond measure. My wife says that he was sent from heaven. As a wise man once said: "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."
