Tag Archives: belief

If I could just be like my dog…


Each week, I get these little gems in my inbox called Wednesday Words from Leigh McLeroy, a gifted writer. Leigh is author of numerous insightful and poignant books such as The Sacred Ordinary and The Beautiful Ache.  She graciously agreed to let me share this week’s post with you. Check her out at www.leighmcleroy.com where you can also sign up for her weekly Wednesday Word.

(By the way, Leigh’s dog is the most adorable Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Owen. I didn’t have a picture of Owen, so I substituted one of my dog Shorty, who I think is pretty handsome too.)

Along for the Ride

Owen likes road trips. He does. His crate fits perfectly in the back of my car, and he’s always ready to hop in. He never begs to see an itenerary. He never questions my route. He doesn’t ask if we’re “there yet,” or whine for a rest stop, or water, or a toy. He gets settled in his crate, I get behind the wheel, and off we go. I’m in charge of the driving – and my sweet, four-legged friend is along for the ride.

I usually put something interesting in the crate to occupy his attention – a chewie rawhide or a beat up toy – but before long Owen’s lying down, his eyes drooping closed and his breathing even and slow. He’s not afraid to sleep while I navigate; he trusts me to get us where we’re going.

If the trip is long and I stop for a bit, I’ll open the back and take Owen out for a break: a turn on the leash, sniffing and exploring, and a drink and a bit of a treat to eat. I don’t leave him unattended; I never forget he’s there. When it’s time to crate up again he doesn’t balk; he goes in easy and settles down quickly. He’s along for the ride.

You see where this is going, right?

My dog’s faith puts mine to shame. In contrast to Owen, I wonder often what the driver (let’s call him God) is up to; question the route he uses to take me where he means for me to go; feel the need for frequent updates to reassure me that we are, in fact, making good progress. And in no way do I relish being “loaded in” for travel facing backward, with no visibility and no control over the trip.

He means to get me from point A to point B, and to mature me in the process. I find it difficult to give myself to this “going” without seeing – to say “yes” to the journey and say nothing more. I struggle to relax, and fear that if I close my eyes we may veer hopelessly off track.

Even writing these words I feel ashamed. I’ve followed him long enough that I should be more confident with his way-finding skills. I should enjoy the trip, and be relieved to not be minding the map. I should feel free to sigh and sleep – to snore even – knowing he is getting us where we need to be. After all, he is the navigator. And I’m just along for the ride.

Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake,so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!” (Matthew 8:23-27, NIV)

© Leigh McLeroy, 2012

“Speak what you feel, not what you ought to say.”