Roxie is my seven month old Welsh Pembrooke Corgi. She is happy-go-lucky, eats everything that’s put in front of her–or that she scavenges from the park–plays hard, sleeps hard, and can be stubborn and mouthy. She’s a lot like me, only happier and cuter.
Almost every day during our walk, when we turn back towards home, Roxie takes the leash in her mouth and begins to run wildly back and forth, pulling and yanking, sometimes running circles around me with great determination. Why? She doesn’t like the turn (literally) this walk is taking and decides things would be better if she were in charge. She knows better where we need to go than I do, she thinks. She is attempting to lead.
Can you relate?
But because I’m bigger (and more stubborn) we always end up eventually at our destination. Roxie is hyper and frazzled and I am tired and frazzled.
Almost every day as Roxie takes the leash I think about my own relationship with God and how often I have attempted to take the lead when he turns in a direction I don’t want to go. I might not yank and pull, but I sure chew on that leash a lot, brace my feet and keep asking “Are you sure, Lord?” So I end up at the destination the Lord desires, which isn’t so bad after all, frazzled and tired, all that energy wasted on worry and resistance.
Praise God You aren’t frazzled or tired. Although I swear at times you are hyper.
So when Roxie pulls, I pray, “Lord, let me learn to walk peacefully by your side when you are leading me places I don’t want to go.” Amen.