While Superstorm Sandy ravaged the Northeast, we in the mountains of North Carolina found ourselves locked into sleet, snow, and cold just in time for Halloween. On that first day, when sunshine was consumed by clouds of gray and autumn leaves were lost to wind, my son Eli and I found ourselves looking for warm drinks at the Starbucks inside the Ingles in Waynesville, over a few mountains from our home. As we made ourselves comfortable at the store’s café seating, we noticed a gal striking up a conversation with a couple nearby. Her name was Leah. Leah was taking some time off of college and biking from Pennsylvania to New Orleans, Louisiana. She was all of maybe twenty years old. Bicycling. I looked out the window as rain started to beat the pavement. We conversed about her journey. She was asking me questions along the lines of such trivial topics as, ahem, how stewardship was viewed by local churches. I couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to bike up and down the mountains in this weather. My straydar kicked in.
It’s easy enough for those of us who are animal advocates to stop our cars on a busy highway to pick up a stray hound or check to see if an animal hit by a car is alive or dead. It’s almost rote, if not expected. Even my son has jumped on the bandwagon. The other day we were driving on some back roads, and we had to turn around because he swore there was a dead dog in a yard. It was just an old Newfoundland resting his bones in the sun, but that’s what we do. We take the time to stop and turn around. Coming back from one of our vacations late at night, I stopped to get gas when I saw a kitty dash into a culvert. Although I couldn’t get the kitty, I did happen to have a big can of food in the car, so we left him a meal. It’s what we do. But what about when the stray is human? Why does that seem to be so much harder?
While sitting there chatting with this girl, I decided to at least explore options. I made phone calls left and right. Friends called friends, but phone calls weren’t answered. My go-to gal who would have totally helped out this sojourner was, herself, going head-to-head with this climactic fallout while hiking in the Smokies. Yes, she could have probably gone to a hotel. I understand that. She wasn’t broke. But so far she hadn’t really needed to do that, and it seemed like such a shame that she would have to do that while in the bosom of my community. I would have given her a ride somewhere myself except the rescuemobile was piled high with laundry and a large animal crate, and the trunk was full of critter supplies. As I threw up my hands and wished her well, she told me she’d probably just make a sign and go stand out front. I felt like a failure as I walked away.
Starting the car, I was swamped by feelings of guilt. I felt like the Universe was testing me, and I was scoring a big fat ZERO. So, I picked up the phone a couple more times. A fellow animal advocate, whose heart is big and kind, told me if we could get her down the mountain to Sylva, we’d work on it from there. Step in the right direction. Light at the end of the tunnel. Silver lining in those gray clouds. My dearest friend, though, is the one who surprised me. She’s one to be wary of strangers, to put it mildly. Put a dog in front of her, and she’s just like me, but humans are another thing. I found myself stepping on those brakes when she said that she’d come pick Leah up in her car! What just happened? I don’t know. You’d have to ask her. But she worked a miracle.
Turning around and parking, I went back inside the store and couldn’t find Leah. I saw her bicycle outside, parked with its meager load and with a purple helmet hanging off the side. But she wasn’t anywhere to be found. I walked around the shopping center for a few minutes and eventually saw her at her bike. Rescue magic happened. I left knowing she was assured a safe ride through horrible weather, and as my cell phone was dying, I had hope that the rest would work itself out. I did have enough battery, though, to make two more important calls.
Driving down the mountain, I had to make a stop at an acquaintance’s home. This woman lives off the beaten track where roads end in forest and creeks are bold! It entered my head as I was driving that I should ask her to take in our traveler. I’d known the woman to be community-minded, and when I called her, I simply asked. And she simply said yes. A call to my dear friend who was on her way to meet Leah, and we were set. The cell phone died, and I drove until the road ended, parked, socialized, and waited. It wasn’t too much longer when Leah arrived. She entered a cacophonous, yet cozy, home. A fire burned in the wood stove. Kids were running around. We four adults, including my friend who stayed for a while, sat around a kitchen table and talked for a while, and then we parted ways. As we left, Leah was helping the family’s little girl build a fairy house by a big tree in the yard.
Leah brought her own little magic to western North Carolina. I will never forget how, upon my telling her that my friend was coming to pick her up, she said she was going into the store to buy flour because she carries sourdough starter with her so she can bake bread for her hosts. Sounds like a very threatening axe murderer, right?! A couple days later on Halloween I gave her a call and found out she was still here. She was trick-or-treating with the family! It warmed my heart to know that her time in my community was spent being cared for, and I know her worried family up north was grateful for the kindness that had been shown to their daughter. I hope that as she continues on her way south that she’ll be able to reflect upon what she experienced and that it will somehow impact how she lives her life. She seems like the pause-reflect-and-grow type of gal to me. The horrible weather we experienced those couple of days after her arrival had only cemented my feeling that we had done the right thing. And while so many people suffered, and continue to suffer, in the Northeast, at least we were able to bring comfort to a stray and be better human beings for it.
So, yet again, I reflect upon how each step, each breath has meaning. We let so much meaning slip away unnoticed in a life, but when we pay attention, the rewards of a purposeful life are endless and enduring.
Love from the Tailroad,
Chandra
