Another Surprise By the Lake

A few days ago, a dazzling early summer day, i decided to take my sweet old dog down to the lake. She is 15 now, and doesn't scamper over the rocks and sand like she used to when she was 9, when we first met. The bounce in her step has settled into a purposeful shuffle, and her deep brown eyes have long reflected blue. I was sober about a year and a half when I got her, and had been dogless since the death of my beloved beagle, Buttercup. So i was re-introduced to the concept of walks, which i had abandoned altogether in my petlessness. I would bring her tennis ball, and pack up a bowl and some spring water to share, and we'd saunter down to the lake, which was only a 5 minute walk from home.

The luxuriously abundant beauty of the lake always drew me into a deep contemplation of Who created it all. The walk became sort of a meditation, and was always magically restful. It brought me inexorably closer to God, even one afternoon producing a most startling revelation, almost a memory, which i will (try to) describe in a later post. Now I live further away and have to drive to the lake. Consequently i don't go as often , but the restorative nature of time by the water has never diminished. I always feel much better after being there.

So on the aforementioned dazzling early summer day, we slowly made our way to the water's edge, andi parked my butt on a log, unhooking the leash. My dog stood half in the water, half on the sand, and just looked at me, smiling that panty smile. In the old days she would wander around investigating whatever pressing and impenetrable matters dogs tend to investigate at the lakeside. But now...now she just watched me, and i wondered, is she getting too old for this? Would she rather be at home, snoozing on the couch like others enjoying retirement? I really  wanted her to enjoy her walk. Had this become too much for her? And then i realized.

All this time, i thought that i had been looking after my dog. I thought those sunny afternoons of gently thrown tennis balls and wet feet were for her. Dogs need walks. Humans take them. It's part of the responsibility of having a pet. But on that afternoon i came to understand that she was the one who led me here, to this beautiful, peaceful, God-soaked place. I might never have found it on my own. I thought it was all for her benefit, but under the unassuming cover of tennis ball throwing, the reverse was actually true.

Then it occured to me that when people talk about service to others being a pathway to God, maybe it's not always such a mysterious process. Maybe it's just as obvious and direct as this. And as my dog stood in the water, looking at me, it seemed for all the world like she was just patiently waiting for this penny to finally drop. Not for the first time, i looked at her in amazement. One doesn't expect to have a moment of spiritual revelation from someone who likes to sniff and occasionally eat garbage. But it happens.