Moose and I had just finished a therapy dog visit, and we were making our way back to the car. He had done what he always does best, spreading joy, snuggles, and a whole lot of love. I was tired, ready to head home, when I faintly heard someone yell, “Stop! Please stop!”
I didn’t think they were talking to me, so I just kept walking. The car was a long trek away, and I was almost there when I heard the running footsteps behind me. A young man, out of breath and clearly desperate, called out again:
“Please, please help me!”
He was looking straight at Moose.
Through heavy breaths he said, “I saw you come in earlier to make visits, and I prayed I’d find you when you left. And I did! Please, you have to help us. We just took my dad off life support… and our hearts are broken. The only thing that could help us right now is your dog. My dad loved dogs. My family needs this. Please, will you come with me and be there when he goes to heaven?”
Before I could even respond, Moose had already answered. He started pulling me back toward the young man, like he knew exactly where we needed to go. Honestly, he always knows.
When we walked into the hospital room, one of the family members let out a sigh of relief, and even through tears, managed a smile the moment 
they saw Moose. He went right to work, moving from one person to another, pressing his big, gentle head into their hands, resting close. He knew exactly who needed him most. In that moment, Moose wasn’t just a therapy dog. He was family, walking with them as they said goodbye, offering comfort words could never give.
That room was holy ground.
Here’s the thing. That morning I was frustrated. My schedule was all messed up, I was behind on everything, and what was supposed to be a morning visit got pushed to the afternoon. I grumbled about it more than once. But God.
Every morning I pray, “Lord, let nothing today be an accident. Orchestrate every step I take.” And He did. That afternoon, He reminded me in the most powerful way that even detours are divine. Moose was right where he was supposed to be. Not a minute early, not a minute late. God’s timing was perfect.
I hugged that precious family before I left, and I still pray for them every day. I think of them often, and I’m so grateful God trusted Moose and me to be part of such a sacred, tender moment.
It reminded me, while we’re rushing through our day, someone else is saying their last goodbyes. Someone is getting hard news. Someone’s heart is breaking. We never know what the people we pass in the hallway, the grocery store, or even the parking lot might be carrying. That’s why 
it’s so important to stay tender, to keep our eyes open, and our hearts soft. What feels like a hard or inconvenient day for us might actually be the very moment someone else has prayed for. God has a way of weaving our delays, detours, and interruptions into someone else’s answer.
That day, Moose didn’t just do his job. He fulfilled his calling.
And once again, I was reminded: with God, detours can be divine. Not a moment is ever wasted.
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