Can you say mountain mud? My shoes are caked in it.
But rain or shine, the dog must go out. And since this is the inaugural and introductory trip to our special mountain hangout for my new pup, Yaz, I felt obliged to accompany him on every outing. (On his leash, of course – tiny unattended doggies become coyote or bear snacks up here.)
My notion was to keep the little dude dry and out of the bone-chilling rain (can you believe it’s in the 50s up here in June???) by pulling his leash taut enough to keep him under the protection of my big blue and white umbrella.
But alas, he would have none of it. He strained and grunted and pulled and tugged to break free of my guidance, thereby liberating himself to wander just beyond the reach of the umbrella, which resulted in him getting deluged and shivery-miserable every single time.
This reining in of his freedom was for his own good, but still, he wouldn’t let me help him. I was even willing to get my own backside soaked to keep him covered, but … nope.
He continued to pull away. Even harder when he felt constrained.
I tried to explain it to him but my words fell on non-listening ears. I wished he’d remember all the times I had rescued him in the past and trust me (including saving his very life; he’s a pound puppy). But he wouldn’t. And it hurt.
Because I love him so.
And then on the fourth day, something changed. After countless drenchings and unpleasant stiff and itchy total body mud masks, it finally clicked. He started to tug outside of the canopy of my umbrella’s protection into the cold downpour, but then looked back at me, (relatively) dry and comfortable, as always inviting him to join me. All he had to do to to improve his journey was yield to my loving guidance. Guidance meant only for his best. Guidance that would make his existence so much better if he would only trust me.
We made eye contact under that umbrella. He hesitated, but then apparently made his decision. A bit reluctantly at first, but soon after completely intentional.
Yaz willingly took his place beside my feet so that our steps were in tandom, no more pulling away, only acceptance and even – dare I say – enjoyment of our time tramping through the rain together.
And so it continued until the sun finally came out. Yaz and I, walking side-by-side in unison. Peace be the journey.
I don’t need to tell you the spiritual lesson Papa God was sending me through all of this, do I? I know that you, who are quicker witted than I, will get it long before I did.
But get it I did. And I hereby resolve to spend more time appreciating Papa God’s big blue and white umbrella of protection over my head and less time tugging at my leash to have my own way.
I don’t like stiff and itchy mud masks either.
So when was a time you fought for freedom from your own umbrella of protection? What was the result?