The sun hangs low, bathing the path and the tall grass golden. A rare stillness drapes the rolling land, interrupted by a single bird call, an unfamiliar one. I crane for a glimpse of feathers amid burnished leaves as my dog strains the leash taut.
I am walking the dog, something I’ve done nearly every evening since we adopted her last February. Tumultuous downpour, sub-zero temperatures, searing Nebraska heat – the weather makes no matter. After the dinner dishes are stacked in the dishwasher and the counters are wiped clean, I slip on my shoes, grab the purple leash from the hook by the back door and call for Josie.
I thought I’d dread walking the dog. As we considered the pros and cons of dog ownership, “walking” ranked right up there with cleaning up the yard and clipping the toenails of four paws. I never expected my daily dog walk would become one of my most cherished spiritual disciples.
…I’m over at Micha Boyett’s today (Do you know Micha? You need to. And her book, Found: A Story of Questions, Grace & Everyday Prayer
Hopped over and read your full post. Loved it!
And I could relate. My son has a beagle, and sometimes I get the fun (really!!) of babysitting him. I also enjoy our walks tremendously. But yes, he is also a hound (which I like to say means he is just a big nose with a little dog that happens to be attached) – and we *stop and smell the roses…and weeds…and bushes…and fire hydrants* quite often! But, it is a solitary pleasure that I love. He and I, lost in the simple pleasures of being outdoors in God’s world. Nothing better.
So, I’m thankful for the slow steps, and the watchful eyes, and the big ol’ nose that Marty brings on our walks. For he teaches me that there is joy in the small stuff.
GOD BLESS!