One of God’s great gifts to me has been the company of Freddie, who serves as the “office minister” of our church. Freddie comes into the office three days a week where he answers phone calls, keeps me company as well as informed, and provides me (and countless others) with much laughter as well as wisdom. I trust him completely, and feel absolutely myself with him. He is, as I said, a great gift to me.
Freddie is retired and a stroke survivor. His stint in the army as a young man placed him in the north pole for six months, and ever since then he has had a terrible distaste for cold weather. Back in the sixties, Freddie was the first Black man to live in suburban Parsippany, which was tough at times, but he endured, and over the decades his genuine warmth and charm have made Freddie one of Parsippany’s most beloved personalities.
The story that I’m about to tell is true, and for various reasons it caught hold of my imagination. For a time last winter, Freddie and Al, in recovery from a heart attack, were going out every morning for walks for the sake of their physical and spiritual well being. This took some doing for Freddie, for as I mentioned before, he genuinely hates the cold.
One morning Freddie and Al were out for their daily walk on the edge of Old Troy Park, a wooded area of perhaps a square mile or two not far from the church. Sticking to the paved walkways next to the parking lot, Freddie had fallen a few steps behind Al. Suddenly, Fred felt the urge to turn around; and in doing so, caught sight of a snarling beast with teeth bared rushing towards him. With Freddie now facing the attack head on, the animal, having lost the element of surprise, chose to swerve away, abandoning its plan of attack. The instinctual growl of counterattack arising from Freddie’s throat captured Al’s attention, who turned in time to see the animal running off into the woods. A large fox was the first identification that came to the two men’s minds, though coyote, and rabid squirrel were mentioned later as other possibilities. An official from the Parks Department with whom Freddie later spoke suggested that the animal may well have been a wolf that chose Freddie as a potential meal because of the limp in his gait when he walks.
Although extraordinarily calm during the actual close encounter with the wild beast, afterwards Freddie found himself distressed by the animal’s apparently bloodthirsty intentions, and declared then and there that he was through with his walks in the park. He was a basically a city kind of guy, having grown up on the streets of the Bronx, and although the city had its own kind of demons for sure, a roaming wild wolf was not one of them. It made no difference that shortly thereafter a dog-like carcass was found at the side of Beverwyck Road — apparently the beast had met its end in a careless crossing of the road at night.
Despite the fear that the experience induced, it nonetheless made for a really good story, worthy of much retelling, and for me a jumping off point for my imagination. In what continues in further posts, we enter the realm of fantasy, or perhaps simply the part of the story that has yet to be lived out.
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One night, in a restless sleep, Freddie had a dream in which he was walking in the woods and came upon the wolf. The ferocity of the animal had disappeared; the snarling bloodthirsty beast of his walk by the woods had been transformed into a docile, gentle creature, clearly of danger to no one.
In his dream Freddie knelt down beside the wolf, gently stroking her thick fur. The wolf rolled over onto her backside, allowing Freddie to tickle her belly. Freddie and the wolf gazed into one another’s eyes. Time stood still.
Freddie awoke from the dream awestruck by how very real it had all seemed. It was as if all his senses had been acutely heightened in the dream: The feel of the wolf’s fur, the smell of her breath (strangely minty), the emerald color of her eyes. Never had a dream left him with such clarity of sensation.
There had been no falling back asleep that night. Freddie sat on his sofa, in deep thought — prayer really — contemplating the meaning of it all. When morning broke, he dressed, and determined that the dream was compelling him to go once more to Old Troy Park — to venture off the paved pathways and enter into the very heart of the forest.
It was an exquisitely clear morning, and unseasonably warm for early March. Freddie parked his car and got out. At this hour of the morning there was no other human being in the park. A wave of fear briefly passed through him, but the fear evaporated as Freddie, remembering his dream, determinably proceeded into the woods. He had thought to bring with him some pieces of chicken left over from his supper the night before, packed away in a plastic bag — a gift for the wolf, should she in fact be there in the forest, waiting for him.
He had been walking for a good twenty minutes when, feeling the need to catch his breath, Freddie sat down to rest on an old stump in a clearing. The stillness of the forest was intoxicating; Freddie listened contentedly to the sounds of birds chirping, of breezes moving through the bare trees.
Suddenly a golden aura seemed to emanate from all of creation, as though he could see at that moment the very glory of God radiating about him. Afterwards Freddie would marvel at how absolutely still his mind had been — no words, just awestruck wonderment.
Suddenly Freddie was aware that he was not alone; that another creature had entered the clearing, unseen, behind him. There was no fear as he turned his body slowly to look. And there he saw for the first time, not the same wolf herself, but the very spitting image, just much smaller — a pup that evidently had come forth from the wolf’s womb. Moving clumsily through the high grass, it could not have been more that a couple of weeks old. The pup’s clumsy, stumbling gait brought it directly to Freddie. There was no denying the fact that the pup was being delivered to him; delivered directly from God Himself.
Freddie reached down and tenderly scooped the pup up into his arms. It did not resist. The shining emerald eyes stared up into Freddie’s eyes; and he realized he was witnessing a moment of divinely decreed adoption. “So you’re mine now,” Freddie said out loud, stating a fact as certain as any other in his life. He took out the bits of chicken and began to feed the pup, who ate hungrily, happily. Afterwards the pup seemed absolutely content. Sleepy even. Freddie began the walk back to his car, the pup nestled in his arms. “I think I’ll call you Rosey.”