Whenever I remove Zoe's leash from the nail where it hangs by the freezer, she does her happy-dog dance, jumping and turning complete circles. She then sits, and after being leashed, scrambles outside with anticipation. Typically, we go down behind the barn and around the meadow twice a day, and have been doing so for five years. One might think that, after all that time, walks would have become merely routine. Yet she still greets the prospect of a walk with expectation and excitement, as if the experience is new every time. From her perspective, I'm confident it really is.
I can't help but think about how different her reaction is from the way I meet a new day. Am I ever so elated about the possibility that exists in each day that my joy can't be contained? Can I read a story, re-attach a button, or taste a fresh tomato warm from the garden and absolutely savor that moment? Am I held in such close captivity by my to-do list that life has become little more than a series of tasks to complete? What does Zoe know that I haven't yet figured out?
It occured to me that my dog -- somewhat like God -- lives completely outside of time. (I'm not drawing any particular theological conclusions about that.) Oh, sure, she typically sleeps at night and has a routine for eating, but she is totally unfamiliar with concepts like early, late and efficient. She consults no time-managment studies, clocks, calendars or schedules. The only idea of time she has is: now.
Before you think I'm advocating immediate disposal of all of our "planning tools", let me assert that I believe they do have a place in our lives. But I can't help but wonder how much less stressed we'd be, how much healthier we'd be, and how content we'd be if we learned to appreciate "now". Maybe if we became conscious of the gift we have been given in each moment, each meal and each breath, we wouldn't need to medicate our stress with stuff. Perhaps we'd even realize that we have surplus to share if we took time to notice the abundance -- material and otherwise -- that we have been given.
The thing I love about my dog's happy-dance is that it never fails to warm my heart. Her joy in the moment is contagious, and as a result, I look forward to our walks, too. I think God has the same reaction to me -- and you -- whenever we pause to enjoy and notice the blessings he pours out upon us. Our appreciation of His goodness to us becomes a form of worship. I'm pretty sure that makes Him smile.
So, lets each work on our "happy-dance". As we re-learn the meaning of the word now, I believe that our joy will become contagious. As we allow the Spirit to set the pace of our lives, I know that He will be faithful to point us to the tasks that truly need to be done. Each day -- each moment -- is a gift, and I pray that you and I will rediscover the thrill of a life, moment by moment, which is truly blessed by the Giver of all good things.
"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Psalm 118:24 NIV)
--Susan Rodebush © 2010
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