It's Official. My Dog and I Have the Same IQ.

During the summer, I take Bailey for a walk pretty much every morning, even if it's drizzling a little bit. We both love our walks in the mornings. It's the best time of day in the summer, and being out there is good for all of you not just your body. It gives us time together. I can breathe in the peaceful air, and she can sniff for rabbits. You'll recall how much she loves to chase a rabbit.

Unfortunately our walk this morning wasn't quite as satisfying. First, I had to go to the dentist this morning (something I despise more than nearly anything else in the world). Second, I spotted a young little bunny in the front yard this morning when my husband was leaving for work. I realized I wouldn't be able to take ol' Bailey outside our backyard fence without a leash, and I didn't have time to rummage around for the leash. So I decided to just circle around the backyard instead.



 

Consequently, Bailey stood expectantly by the gate for at least 45 minutes. Every time I'd get close to it, she'd wag her tail and get all excited. Then I'd pass right by. She didn't whine or bark, but darn if she didn't manage to look downright heartbroken. I swear her eyes looked completely sad and defeated.

 

 

I nearly caved. Every time I passed by and looked at her sweet, puppy face, I came so close to swinging the gate open and letting her pass out into the front yard unleashed. Then my quite vivid imagination would treat me to a vision of her chasing yon rabbit into the highway where both of them would become the victims of a speeding tractor-trailer. I'm sure in  her doggy mind she still thinks I was just ruining her day, but I know better. I was holding her back to keep her safe, to rescue her from herself.

 

Bailey and I have a lot more in common than I'd like to admit. We're both pearly white and chubby. Just like me, she'll eat 'til she's sick if you let her have access to her favorite treats, and we both sometimes let our enthusiasm run away with us.

 

A few weeks ago, I let myself get really sick and run down. It's easy to do; it seems like student essays reproduce like the rabbits Bailey's so fond of. There's laundry to do, classes to teach, and people to call. What's worse is that I keep having these conversations with myself about it. "Okay, Bran, you have got to take better care of yourself. You've got to set better boundaries. You've got to rest." A resolution that last exactly as long as it takes the laundry to pile up.

 

I believe that's why God benched me. He nudged me a few times and warned me that I needed to rest -- to find a better balance. I ignored all that and continued on at full speed. Then, I crashed and found myself on the couch unable to get up. I also had to go to a bunch of doctors, who did innumerable unpleasant things to me -- my own fault really.

 

The way I just wrote about it, it sounds so clear, but it wasn't in the beginning. I sat there on the couch praying things like, "God, please heal me, so I can go do some more stuff." Truthfully I didn't realize how much I was doing until I had to stop. Even little things like re-filling the humming bird feeder. I lost count of the diappointed hummers that zipped away still thirsty. It made me feel terrible.

 

I fought resting really hard. I feel a little embarassed about it in retrospect. My husband and I actually got in an argument about it.

 

I said, "I've got to go do this because I don't want to let them down."

 

He responded, "If you're not careful, somebody's going to be letting you down -- into the ground -- into your grave!" I had to admit that he had a point. He usually does, but don't tell him I said that.

 

In the end, despite my resistance, I had to just rest. It sounds easy, but for me it was hard. This will sound bizarre, but I actually felt afraid. What's worse is that since I was sitting there alone on the couch, I actually took my mental stick and started poking around at the fear. Sometimes the truth is pretty unattractive because when I poked that stick into the ant mound of my fear lots of uncomfortable realizations came rushing out.

 

I worry about what people think. Am I doing enough good? Do they think I'm lazy?

I worry about not being good enough. I figured out that a lot of this business I've been pushing myself into is a huge cover-up for anxiety about not being loved. Please understand this stuff is going on deep down in there in my heart where things don't often exactly make sense. Intellectually, I know that me being loved or not is in no way tied to how good or perfect I am, but emotionally it isn't so clear. Not to mention the fact that being busy keeps me from having to think too much about all that uncomfortable stuff in there.

 

Here's the point. Just like Bailey, I got put inside the fence for my own good. I didn't like it. Okay, I hated it, but it was good for me. I suspect there was no other way for me to get the message God was trying so desperately to send me. Something like, "Enough already, Bran!"

 

Maybe you understand what I've been trying to explain here. I don't think that my struggles are that uncommon. Look how "busy" we all are -- iphones buzzing while we drive to another appointment to help us cope with our appointments.

 

One of my favorite artists, Audrey Assad, wrote a song about it in which she asks, "Why is it easy to work but hard to rest sometimes?" The first time I heard her song "Lament," I thought, "That's it! That's exactly how I feel!!"

 

After all, God's been telling us we need to rest all the way since the beginning back in Genesis. Humans! You'd think we'd just listen the first time.

 

Solomon in his wisdom said, "For what has man for all his labor, and for the striving of his heart with which he has toiled under the sun?  For all his days are sorrowful, and his work burdensome; even in the night his heart takes no rest. This also is vanity." (Ecc. 2:22-23) I think that's the general message of Ecclesiastes anyway, "Work hard. Play hard. Rest."

 

Take it from somebody who cares about you. Work hard, but be sure you rest too. Take care of yourself; you're the only one of you the world's got.