A few miles more

Skylar and I had come down to Texas to help clean up after Hurricane Harvey. We were just east of Houston, working with the Cajun Army to muck out the house of retired veterans who had lost everything.

We were covered in the kind of dust that clings to your clothes and your soul. We'd been gutting flooded homes for days. The air was thick with mold, sweat, and silence—the kind that follows people who’ve lost everything.

That’s when Melanie called.

“There’s a shelter in Corpus Christi,” she said. “They’re out of room. A few dogs are set to be euthanized if no one comes by the weekend.”

It was a six-hour drive south, and I was already running on fumes. But there was never a question. We packed up and went.

When we got there, the shelter staff walked us back. They didn’t give a long speech or try to convince us. They just pointed.

And there he was.

Small. Quiet. Not broken—but right on the edge. You could see it in his eyes. That look animals get when they’ve waited too long without kindness.

Skylar picked him up gently, and he laid his head down like he’d finally exhaled. That ride home was silent for a while. Him in Skylar’s lap. Me driving with a lump in my throat.

I glanced over and caught his eyes looking back at me. Not scared. Not pleading.

Just this soft, quiet hope.

Not everyone gets a six-hour rescue.
Not everyone has someone who shows up.

But some of us do.
Some of us are the ones who drive.

And what I’ve learned—over and over again—is that love doesn’t always look like a grand gesture. Sometimes it looks like a long drive. A lap. A second chance. A decision to go further than you planned because something in your gut said, “This matters.”

We brought him home. He got adopted. He’s been living the good life ever since—because someone picked up the phone. Because we drove the miles. Because the timing aligned just right.

So here’s what I want to say to you today:

If you’re in a season of waiting—hold on.
Someone might be on their way.
And if you’ve got strength in you—make the drive.
There’s someone out there who still believes they’re forgotten.

Be the proof they’re not.

Because life’s not just about the people we plan for—it’s about the ones we’re willing to make room for when they need us most.

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