The Other Side of the Door

by Evelyn Donnell

A couple of days ago I was upstairs in my little hide-a-way office writing checks to pay October bills and mulling over charitable donation requests.

Lori our big dog leaped up from her stretched out sleeping position, vigorously banking at me and running to the head of the stairs. Downstairs someone was knocking at the outside door. 

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” I yelled as I descended. Lori was well ahead of me, barking the same message.

Glancing out the door window I saw Dale, our neighbor of eighteen years standing outside. -We are not intimate friends, but we are good neighbors. When winter snows come, Dale rides over on his motorized snow plow and plows us out. When Dale and his wire Sybil are gone RVing we gather in their mail and newspapers, keeping them dry and safe until they return.

Over a year ago when Dale was diagnosed with cancer he came over and requested we “kinda look after the place” when he and Sybil were in Boise for his surgery. He had unexpected tears in his eyes when I asked him if I could pray for him. He hugged and thanked me when I finished. I asked Dale if he knew Jesus personally as his Lord and Savior?” He answered, “ Yes, I do, even went to Sunday School a few times when I was a kid. - I’m just not interest in going to church with all those hymn singing Christians!”

Now a year later, he was at my door again. Two big tumors had showed up and he and Sybil would be on their way to Boise again. “Would you folks look after the mail and newspapers ‘till we’re back?”

I said, “Sure Dale, if you’ll let me pray for you again.” “Remember God gave you a whole good year “Cancer free”. You and Sybil got to go camping, take your trip to Hawaii and hold your first great grandson in your arms. Dale struggled to repress tears, but he had a whole different look on his face than when he first told me of his cancer a year ago. This time he grasped both my hands as we prayed, me aloud, him silently. When we finished, I saw hope in his eyes.

As 90 years old I some times ask God, “Why am I still here? - other than to take care of my recalcitrant, yet very lovable husband of 67 years? Isn’t it time for me to be writing, teaching, and drawing pictures and painting murals on the walls of my new home in Heaven?”

Then the doorbell rings. Faithful Lori barks, there’s my answer, standing on the other side of the door!