I was just taking the first steps of my morning walk with my dog when she tugged at the leash. I let it go.
She ran towards a young man who had just parked his van a couple buildings away and was examining the storage space in the back.
Maybe she just knew he was a “dog person.” She curled up at his feet until he started to pet her, laughing good-naturedly.
India, my four-legged walking buddy, was basking in the attention. I guessed the man to be in his mid-twenties. He squatted close to the ground, not afraid to get a little dirty and meet her on her level.
“You have to pet your dog every day,” he said to me, smiling. “People forget that.”
Without needing any encouragement, I responded.
“Don’t worry about my dog. If she feels she’s not getting enough love at home, she has no problems inviting a stranger to pat her head or stroke her belly.”
We laughed then started to exchange bits of information. No questions were asked.
“My dog is about seven,” I said, “She seems like a puppy, but I’ve had her going on six years. I got her from foster when she was just over a year old.” Then I added, “I live on this block, a few doors west.”
He explained, “I work for my uncle. He lives down the street. I was supposed to be at his place already.”
When he stood up, I saw how tall and thin he was, not quite athletic looking, but fit, like a runner.
He stood at the back of his open van again. I saw small saws and thick, industrial extension cords, and big, orange-colored, slop buckets.
His wide and natural smile put me at ease. I felt like I could say anything to him. I looked at the open back door of his van and took in what he was wearing. I considered the few clues he passed along in conversation.
“Are you a handyman?” I asked.
Before he had a chance to answer, I blurted out, “My toilet needs fixing. I think it needs a new float and flushing assembly. The water runs all the time.” Then I added, as if apologizing, “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”
I don’t know why I felt compelled to frame my inquiry in such a way as if to highlight my shortcomings. I went on to make a joke of it. “And India, my dog, does not do plumbing either. I’ll pay cash.”
Oh, the lament of the single girl, a sexagenarian at that, not confident about doing a household task herself, but recognizing the job is not serious enough to warrant a plumber’s hourly fee.
He smiled. Yes, he could help me with this. I gave him my phone number after surprising him that I don’t always carry my phone with me and couldn’t record his.
“Can’t talk now,” he said, reviewing the small assortment of tools he laid out on the grass near the van. I watched him as he arranged the items to carry to his uncle’s. “I’m late for work.”
And he began taking long strides down the street.
“Don’t worry about the money.” He called back.
Sure enough, he texted during the day, coming over to take pictures of my toilet tank around 5:00. We both agreed it was a sad day when center-pull flushers became popular alternatives to handles.
He called the next day to say his supplier was closed over the weekend, volunteering that he would bring me the receipts of any supplies he had to buy and assuring me that we’d straighten out this on Monday.
OMG. Like an answer to my prayers.
I’ve been thinking about prayers and SURRENDER a lot lately.
I have been praying for a boost in my finances. I’ve been praying for partnerships with people that could help me monetize what I want to be my work in the world. I’ve been praying for the health of people I know who are facing challenges. And yes, I’ve been praying to find a new handyman.
Sometimes, I’ve repeated a prayer almost daily even though I know bringing a long-held desire to life does not necessarily happen faster by increasing the frequency of my supplication.
Surrender, letting go of how I think something should happen seems to be involved. Paying attention to what is in front of me is also important.
Blessings or clues on your next opportunity can easily be ignored.
Keeping your eyes open and your heart open even wider is no small thing.
A lovely story (and reminder) Deb!
Beautiful, Deb! Appreciate the letting go of how the Universe will provide for us. And the paying attention to what is actually happening here and now. 🙂