11/01/2026
The Day God Showed Up as Issac…
One Saturday morning, almost a year ago, I woke up excited to begin the day.
I went outside, fed the animals, and then headed across the road to check the mailbox. Just another ordinary morning at the rescue. Or so I thought.
As I stopped to look both ways before crossing, my eyes settled on something just beyond the mailbox.
There, in the grass alongside the road, lay our beautiful Sunny. Her thick white fur was blowing softly in the morning breeze.
My heart sank.
I walked over to her, hoping somehow that what I was seeing wasn’t real. But Sunny was gone.
I made my way back to the rescue and retrieved our little red Radio Flyer wagon. That wagon has carried more than its share of precious souls over the years, helping me bring animals home to their final resting places.
And now, it was Sunny’s turn.
I pulled the wagon as close to her as I could and waited for the traffic to clear. Our little farm road is surprisingly busy, and I wanted a quiet moment to lift Sunny into the wagon and bring her home privately.
Eventually, the road grew silent.
No cars. No engines. Just the stillness of the morning.
Then, from around the blind curve leading toward the rescue, I heard a vehicle approaching.
I turned toward Sunny and waited, expecting the driver to pass so I could finish what I had come to do.
But the vehicle slowed.
Then it stopped.
A young man stepped out of his SUV and walked toward me.
“Ma’am, would you like some help?”
I looked at him and said, “Yes, that would be much appreciated.”
He glanced down at Sunny.
“Is this your dog?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
And suddenly, my eyes filled with tears.
But those tears weren’t for Sunny.
They were for him.
For this complete stranger, dressed so nicely that he appeared to be on his way somewhere special. A young man who had somewhere to be, something to do, and absolutely no obligation to stop.
He could have driven right past me.
He could have looked the other way.
He could have assumed someone else would help.
But he didn’t.
He saw me standing beside a little red wagon, waiting along a busy country road with my dog lying lifeless in the grass.
And he stopped.
Not because he had to.
Simply because he could.
After helping me get Sunny into the wagon, he asked if there was somewhere he could pull her for me.
Together, we made our way across the road and through the gate of the rescue.
I thanked him and asked his name.
“Issac,” he said. “Issac Hamitt.”
I told him my name, thanked him again, and we shook hands.
Then he got back into his SUV and drove away in the same direction from which he had come.
I never saw him again.
I’ve thought about that young man many times since.
He had no way of knowing what that small act of kindness would mean to me. He probably never imagined that a few minutes out of his Saturday morning would become a memory I would carry for the rest of my life.
And perhaps that’s one of the most beautiful things about kindness.
We don’t always know the burdens someone else is carrying. We don’t know what they’ve endured, what they’ve lost, or how desperately they might need a reminder that goodness still exists in this world.
Sometimes, the smallest can restore a little faith in humanity.
Sometimes, the person offering that gesture doesn’t even realize the magnitude of what they’ve given.
And sometimes, God doesn’t arrive with thunder, lightning, or some grand announcement.
Sometimes, He simply pulls over on the side of a country road, steps out of an SUV, and asks,
“Ma’am, would you like some help?”
That was the day God showed up as Issac.
