Lessons from the Pup

 In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.           Psalm 4:8 ESV

I was minding my own business Sunday evening, trying to get a little work done, when a text came in to my phone.  It was the lady at the kennel where we’d dropped the dog off for the weekend.  Reggie’s anxiety had gotten the best of him and he’d rubbed his nose raw trying to get out of the kennel.  She thought we might want to come pick him up early so that he wouldn’t hurt himself any worse.

I wanted to tell her, “No.  That’s okay.  He’s done this before.  That’s why he’s with you – so he doesn’t tear the house up when I’m not home. He’ll be fine.”

What I actually told her was, “Okay.  We can be there in about an hour.”

And off we went to pick Reggie up and bring him home.  He was fine.  I’ve seen his nose much worse.  At least he didn’t chew through a door this time like he did at a kennel a couple of years ago!

So as I sit here today, pretty much restricted to my little house on wheels because I can’t go anywhere and leave Reg home alone without him tearing the place up, here’s my view: 

He looks like he struggles from anxiety, doesn’t he?!  

He’s the very picture of “chill.”

I’m sitting here wondering, what’s the big deal here?  This dog is getting pretty old.  He’s still strong, and he loves to play, but in between, he just lies around and sleeps.  It’s a great life.  How can this dog that has spent most of the day doing exactly what he’s doing in that picture be so different when left alone?

The difference is that I am here.

It’s not as if I’m having a lot of interaction with the silly dog.  Mostly he’s just napping on the floor.  He occasionally moves to a different part of the floor.  This morning, he was napping on the couch beside me.  I’m not actively doing anything with or for Reggie. 

I’m just here.

And because I am here, he is at peace.  He can rest.

And the Lord impresses on my heart that I need to trust as Reggie trusts. 

This morning, this week, this month, this year…  I have not had the level of peace my dog is demonstrating in this moment.  I have been anxious.  Even as I am typing these words, a multitude of other thoughts are running around in my head – things I need to do, concerns for which I have no answers (including what to do with this sweet dumb dog when I need to go to the store or when I want to go for a run, or on Sunday when it’s time to go to church).

Anxiety tends to get the best of me.  I call it by different names, saying I’m "facing reality, figuring out logistics, looking at the big picture."  I have difficulty finding balance at times, because struggle is so much a part of life on planet earth.  And like it or not, sometimes I actually do need to figure out logistics…

Life is hard.

In my head, I know that God is with me.  He has promised to never leave me.  And it’s not a proximity issue, because He goes with me wherever I go.  Technically, He’s already there. 

And yet, I act like Reggie at the kennel, panicking, instead of resting like Reggie at home.  I can so quickly forget the lessons of the past and lose sight of the reality that God is WITH me, and He is FOR me, and He is working ALL THINGS for my good.

The moment I walk away, Reggie’s little dog brain may not be able to remember that I am coming back.  That makes me sad for him, because there’s nothing I seem to be able to do to help him rest at ease when his people are away. 

But my human brain SHOULD be able to remember that I have a God who never leaves me. 

My God is not going to take me anywhere and walk away.  Even when He seems silent, the reality is that He is not. He is there.  He is watching.  He has things under control.  I need simply trust.

And so, in this uncertain season, I’m going to try to learn a little lesson from my dog.  I’m going to try to remember that as long as my God is with me - and He always is – I can be at peace.

Perhaps, like me, you are prone to 'Reggie at the kennel' moments.  Rest today in the confidence that you are in the presence of a loving Father who has promised to never leave you or forsake you.

Rest well.

…Just a thought…