Just Leave It

This morning Grace and I took our walk in the rain. About half way around the block, she stopped and picked something up from the sidewalk. It was dark so I couldn't tell what it was. Usually, it's something like an empty bag of chips or candy bar wrapper. After all, she's a dog.

I gave the command to "leave it." She is actually very good about this lately, but not so much this morning. With no reaction from her, I repeated "just leave it" in my deepest, most serious voice and then I waited, resisting the urge to pull it from her mouth, hoping beyond hope that she would do the "right thing."

After several seconds (that seemed like minutes) she looked up at me with her sad dog eyes, straightened her curly tail, made a huge sigh and slowly dropped her treasure, which turned out to be a robin who had recently taken its last breath.

I couldn't help but be a little proud of Grace and I told her so if "You are such a good puppy" qualifies as telling her that I was proud of her behavior.

She went against every cell in her body and chose to obey me. And her obedience did not come from fear. (Unlike my children, Grace has never been spanked.) Her obedience came from trust, which only comes from love. Grace doesn't understand why, but knows in her soul, which is even more powerful than her instinct, that I will only ask her to do what is ultimately in her best interest. The praise from me was more satisfying to her than the fun she could have had with that dead bird.

I couldn't help but think of God and what the Spirit sometimes requires of me. I like to hold on to bitterness and anger and, especially, fear. I find it in the dark, just like Grace did, and hold on to it tight. God gently but firmly asks me to "leave it." 

Unlike Grace, I don't always listen to the One who loves me most. I try to reason and explain my way out of leaving it. God doesn't try to wrestle it from me or trick me into dropping it. He waits, secretly willing me to do what he asks.

 So I sit with it for awhile, show him my sad human eyes, and if I had a curly tail I would definitely straighten it. . . and then (after years) I listen to my soul and not my humanness, and I let it go, trusting that I can trust God, that His pleasure in me is with worth more than whatever I've been holding on to.

Unfortunately, I tend to find the same dead bird on lots of my walks, but God continues to love me, showing me more each day how the Spirit can be trusted. . . and more and more often I drop it with the first command. Sometimes, I don't even stop to pick it up.