Deja vu and trust

We awoke to a thick, glorious blanket of snow on the ground this Thursday morning. Knowing school was already cancelled, I proceeded to make a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast because while everyone was picking up milk and bread at the store yesterday before the storm, what was I getting? Bacon. Snow storms call for it.

While eating breakfast, the sun cracked open the morning spilling sparkling light all over the white lawn. It was calling my name. Walking in the snow by myself is like entering this glorious secret that very few know about. Just me and God out there.

Except of course it was me, God, Clark, our new dog, and Luna, our old dog. I have since forgiven our new dog for making me chase him into our neighbors yard and break my finger last week. I have since then also gotten creative at accomplishing many mundane, daily tasks. One being walking the dogs. I double Clark's leash and loop it around my right elbow. Then I put the end of Luna's leash around my right wrist and stick my right hand in my coat pocket. Then I have my fully functioning left hand free to maneuver Luna's leash. Clark walks on my right, Luna on my left. I've got a good system going here.

Well this morning my system failed. Miserably. We got about a block and a half out and were at the corner or our neighborhood street and a regular 2 lane road. Well the dogs went to sniffing the light post and they got twisted up somehow and Clark did a little hop and off slipped his collar. I mean, collar. Not just the least. Now, I am staring at the dog, who I just broke my finger for, holding his collar and leash. Are you kidding me?

Panic crept in, but I tried to keep calm, kneel down, and call him to me. He backed away when he realized I was trying to put the collar back on. I recognized that this would never in a million years work. The only way possible for me to get him back was literally to walk home and pray to God that he followed me right to the door. So I did that.

I straightened up, said a prayer, and kept walking. He never came right to me. He walked across the street, stopped to sniff every mailbox, peed on a couple, trotted in front of me. Although my heart was still beating a little faster, I realized fear had subsided and a submission to God had set in. I couldn't do a thing to make this work. God had to bring him back home.  He now had no collar to identify himself. And if he ran away that would be it, but it would be ok.

We walked on through the slushy street and I kept calling his name. He turned the first corner with us. Good. Then he wandered ahead of us into our yard. Ok good. Then he crossed over on the other side of the street and walked past our house. Ok, no good. I prayed and thought, This is it. I whistled and walked toward our garage. He turned looked at me and trotted into our carport and up to the door and into the house. I flopped down on the couch with all my winter gear still on and laughed while I thanked God for doing what I couldn't do. 

The break in my finger has been healing a break in my heart. A deeper trust is growing right beside this new healing bone. The same situation that a week ago prompted a response of fear, tears, and pain brought a still fast beating heart, but one that instead looked up to the Only One Who Can Really Heal and Fix Things.

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go for to you I entrust my life." Psalm 143:8