Miracle in the Night

It is a little after midnight as I write this.  About an hour ago, I was laying in bed, reading the last page of a book.  I closed the book, satisfied with the ending, and laid in my bed thinking of the story and feeling content and cozy.  Everyone in the house, but me, was asleep.  Silence engulfed me.  Even our neighborhood was unusually quiet for a Friday night.  I was ready to turn off my bedside light and go to sleep, but I couldn't. I sometimes experience insomnia, but that was not the case.  My eyes were drowsy and I was ready for a full night of sleep, but something was nagging me - this inexplicable feeling nudging me to get up and go outside.  Why?  I listened intently, but could not hear any worrisome sound and I could not remember any noise that my mind may have registered unconsciously as something of concern.  I breathed deeply - no smell of smoke or chemicals.   I could not identify a problem or a reason to leave the comfort of my bed, but still I felt compelled to go outside.

I tried to push the feeling aside.  I labeled it illogical, nonsensical, impractical and just plain silly, but it would not go away.  Finally, after ten minutes of unsuccessfully attempting to use logic to justify staying under my warm covers, I got up, through a sweater on over my pajamas, slipped on my sandals and tiptoed through the house so as not to wake up anyone with my silly nighttime prowl.  As slowly and quietly as possible, I opened the front door and ventured out into the dark, breezy coolness of this November night.

There were lights on in the three houses across the street, but no one and nothing stirred.  Other than some light traffic sounds from the busier corridor streets to the north and east of our neighborhood, I heard nothing.  I walked around my car and into the carport.  I looked around where our garbage can, recycling bins and charcoal grill are, but nothing was amiss. The plants that line the chest-high wall that makes up one side of the carport were all in place.  My wind chimes were still hanging in place and, since the nighttime breeze was coming from a different direction, they were silently motionless.

As I stood there feeling very cold and very foolish, I heard the soft grunting sounds that one of my rescue dogs makes.  I have two rescues, a 12 year-old mother and her 9 year-old daughter, who I’ve had for ten years and who live in our fenced backyard and sleep on our back porch.  I looked toward the back of the carport, which is separated from our backyard by a chain link fence, expecting to see mama dog standing there, wagging her tail and making her pig-like grunting sounds. But, even in the cloudy darkness, I could see she was not there.  And, yet, her distinctive guttural noises were very close.  I looked to my right and there she sat just inches from me!  What was she doing outside the fence?  How did she get out?  We have lived in this house for eight years and during the first two, when both dogs were much younger and much more spry, they escaped the backyard three times.  The fence is an old patchwork of different types of fencing and after each escape, we found and repaired another hole or gap we had missed the time before.  For six years, the two dogs had only left the backyard when they were leashed and ready to walk our neighborhood or to go to the vet’s office.

I reached down, petted mama dog and grasped her collar, concerned that she may run off.  Both dogs are skittish and easily frightened by loud noises, strange people and other dogs.  After two of the previous escapes, they ran off, scared and panicked, and were not found until hours later.  I did not want that to happen again.  With mama dog in hand, I turned my concern to daughter dog.  Did she escape too or was she still in the backyard?  Was she off running through the neighborhood or was she somewhere near by?  I called her name softly and she rounded the side of my car and joined her mother at my side.

I was so relieved to have them safely next to me and praised them for staying nearby and not leaving our property.  Since it was too dark to investigate the fence, I led the dogs into our Florida room, gave them dishes of water and made beds for them on the terrazzo floor, where they quickly curled up in search of sleep.  Tomorrow my man and I will find and repair the newest escape route in the fence, but, for now, the two dogs are safe, warm and comfortable in their temporary accommodations.

I cannot explain why I could not sleep or why I was nagged by a feeling that I must go outside.  Maybe an angel was whispering to me.  All I know is that if I had not followed that nudge to get up from my warm bed and go out into the chilly night, my dogs would likely be nowhere to be found come morning.

Perhaps this is not a huge miracle, but, to me, it is an amazing and inexplicable miracle, and I cannot help wondering why this experience came to me tonight.  Was it to urge me to be more aware of and to be more willing to follow my inner nudges and instincts?  Was it to teach me that there is always magic and magical happenings around me?  Was it to emphasize that the Universe/God/Source is always sending us helpful messages?  Was it to tell me that anything is possible and that I should practice more trust?  I believe it was for all these reasons and more.  This week, I was again feeling a little overwhelmed and concerned and Mount Dora and my dreams felt very far away.  Now, I feel like I am covered in magical dust and that anything, ANYTHING is possible.