My husband and I dropped off our puppy, Ann, at the vet last night to be boarded over the weekend. We experienced a mixed bag of emotions — sadness at leaving her for the first time since we brought her home; pride at how quiet and (relatively) well-behaved she was in the vet’s lobby; some unnamed combo-pack o’ emotions when we went back home to a puppy-less environment.
One of the strangest parts for me was waking up this morning about half an hour later than usual. Usually, since we’ve had Ann, I get up at 5:10 on weekdays so I can let her out, feed her, and take her for a walk before I go to work.
Let me be clear: I don’t enjoy waking up that early. It’s not fun. Rarely do I (does anyone?) spring out of bed at that hour with glee in my step.
But there’s something about that pre-sunrise walk. It’s still dark outside. The night sky is veeery slowly starting to fade. It’s a transition time. It’s cool. The air is also pleasantly cool — although ask me in three months and I’ll probably use a different adjective.
Our morning walks are when Ann is most energetic, and she doesn’t always want to behave. Even so, there’s a certain peace there. The neighborhood is all quiet, and but for the handful of folks slipping off to an early commute, we have the world to ourselves.
I try to take this time to breathe; to savor the peace and quiet before the hustle and stress of the workday begins. Even though I’m usually carrying a bag of dog poop in one hand, it’s nice.
It is a fabulous time to pray.
The reason Ann is getting boarded this weekend is that Robin Hood and I are heading to Phoenix for the baptism of my friend Tara’s son, Luca. We’re going to be his godparents.
My faith isn’t perfect. Far from it. This year, between planning a wedding, adjusting to married life, adjusting to a new puppy, and training for another marathon, my faith has been tested, and I have not always come through with flying colors. But I keep working on it, and thankfully, God has surrounded me with some terrific people to help me when I need it.
Luca, as your godmother, I’ll tell you right now I don’t have all the answers. But here’s what I do know:
- God will never leave you. Period.
- Your faith doesn’t have to be perfect. In fact, sometimes it will be torn, ratty, crumpled, stained, and downright ugly. This is totally normal. But don’t ever let go of it.
- You have people in your life who are here for you — your parents, your godparents, and MANY others. And we always will be.
And last but not least: If you just look around a little bit, you can find beauty in the world, even when you’re carrying dog poop.
Tara and Randy: thank you for having faith in Robin Hood and I. We are honored beyond measure to be Luca’s godparents.