“You’ll find Him when you seek Him with all your heart." ~ Jeremiah 29:13
A cold gray rain soaked the yard’s
fallen leaves. The few remaining ones clung
to limbs that were, not long ago, adorned with vibrant autumn colors. Light frost suggested winter wasn't far
behind.
Annie stood alone at the window,
ears perked, tail erect, shifting impatiently.
Earlier she’d cleared the yard of squirrels and the goose family who repeatedly
left their ‘droppings’ in our yard.
She came over and sat by me; tail waving, eyes glaring. She hardly viewed a little autumn drizzle as
a deterrent to a morning hike at the lake.
But I wasn’t quite ready yet; still shedding the sleep from
my brain.
Annie continued her stare as if to say: “Times a wasting, human!”
I scratched behind her ears and
rubbed soft fur before repeating: “Not now, maybe later if it clears a little.” She turned quickly and retrieved Boo - a
dingy old toy short on stuffing. It
drooped from her mouth like a rag before she dumped Boo at my feet.
“Here, I brought you something treasured
in exchange for what I want. OK?” she
barked.
I toss Boo across the room hoping
she might be distracted by a little game of indoor fetch. Glancing nonchalantly, she returned her gaze at
me. Dogs are relentless negotiators.
“Maybe later,” I said, getting
up and moving toward the spare room I use for writing. But there’s no “later” for a dog. They’re creatures of Right Now, focused on
the moment, wagging impatiently, her eyes never leaving mine as she trailed behind
me.
I soon found myself not writing but thinking about Right
Now. How often do I push the moment into
the future, when I really should be more like Annie and face it head on? Specifically, have I spent these pandemic
months putting my life on hold, not seizing it as an opportunity for
growth? Have I missed the opportunity to
grow closer to God? Hiding rather than
seeking? Hoping rather than acting? Waiting rather than living?
I’m convinced Annie can read my mind because suddenly she
parked at my feet with a look of renewed determination. I smiled.
Rainy day hikes along the peaceful, misty shoreline are what field
jackets and hiking boots are for.
“I give up!” I tell Annie going for her leash. I can rarely refuse her; she's just too damn
cute.
Throughout the ages, humanity has been tested. This is one of those times. And for people of faith, it’s go-time! Time to practice beliefs that have brought us
this far. Time to reflect on what our spiritual
practices or beliefs mean and how they can be actualized during these trying
times.
But right now, it’s time to walk my pup!
