My dog is racing up and down the house, on patrol against the obvious threat. She barks like crazy, announcing to all of us that there is considerable danger.
"EXPLOSIONS!"
Her cousin is a little less vigilant, but he is also a nervous dog, and so if she is worried, he is there to support her in her worry. "EXPLOSIONS!" he repeats.
About the third time through the house, I stop her - mid-headlong sprint to the back door - and pick her up in my arms.
"Lucie," I say to her. "It is okay. I've got this."
She wiggles to get out of my arms. Distressed about the fact that we are oblivious to the threat that firecrackers present. I pet her gently, and speak to her in confident tones. "Sweetie, you have got nothing to worry about. I'm on alert. You can let it go."
Forty five seconds later, she starts to calm a little. The fireworks have taken a break, though, so I don't know if she trusts me, or whether she has just gotten over the fear of the threat.
I hold her. I talk to her.
And she stops quivering. Her breathing relaxes and she begins to release the tensed muscles. She trusts. We wait through the next barrage, and I hold her - firmly and loosely. She tenses a little, but looks up at me. And I pet her. Tell her she's a good girl. And that I have the situation firmly in hand.
And she lets it go. She is free of the worry.
The Fourth-of-July fireworks have been continual for the past twenty minutes, intensifying in every way. Now Lucie is sitting back with Kathe in the den. She is a little vigilant, but not concerned. Because I have reassured her that it is all ok.
I hold out hope that this is kinda how God sees my worries.
I fret about things over which I have no control. I bark my worries, I let everyone know that there are things to be alarmed about. I race around trying to put out fires that I don't understand.
Meanwhile, God is waiting to put his arms around me and tell me, Crorey, my dear child. Don't you know that I have it all under control? Don't you trust me? Why are you worrying and fretting and preparing for battle?
Trust me. Let me handle the worrying. Look up at me. And know that you can trust in my love.
And you will be free.
Tonight, the neighborhood fireworks taught me a real lesson about freedom.
"EXPLOSIONS!"
Her cousin is a little less vigilant, but he is also a nervous dog, and so if she is worried, he is there to support her in her worry. "EXPLOSIONS!" he repeats.
About the third time through the house, I stop her - mid-headlong sprint to the back door - and pick her up in my arms.
"Lucie," I say to her. "It is okay. I've got this."
She wiggles to get out of my arms. Distressed about the fact that we are oblivious to the threat that firecrackers present. I pet her gently, and speak to her in confident tones. "Sweetie, you have got nothing to worry about. I'm on alert. You can let it go."
Forty five seconds later, she starts to calm a little. The fireworks have taken a break, though, so I don't know if she trusts me, or whether she has just gotten over the fear of the threat.
I hold her. I talk to her.
And she stops quivering. Her breathing relaxes and she begins to release the tensed muscles. She trusts. We wait through the next barrage, and I hold her - firmly and loosely. She tenses a little, but looks up at me. And I pet her. Tell her she's a good girl. And that I have the situation firmly in hand.
And she lets it go. She is free of the worry.
The Fourth-of-July fireworks have been continual for the past twenty minutes, intensifying in every way. Now Lucie is sitting back with Kathe in the den. She is a little vigilant, but not concerned. Because I have reassured her that it is all ok.
I hold out hope that this is kinda how God sees my worries.
I fret about things over which I have no control. I bark my worries, I let everyone know that there are things to be alarmed about. I race around trying to put out fires that I don't understand.
Meanwhile, God is waiting to put his arms around me and tell me, Crorey, my dear child. Don't you know that I have it all under control? Don't you trust me? Why are you worrying and fretting and preparing for battle?
Trust me. Let me handle the worrying. Look up at me. And know that you can trust in my love.
And you will be free.
Tonight, the neighborhood fireworks taught me a real lesson about freedom.
1 comment:
Touched my heart and my mind. Thanks.
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