When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul. —Psalm 94:19 (nas)
For most of my life, I’ve been a worrier. I worry about arriving on time for an appointment, the precarious state of the world economy, and everything in between. Medication has helped, but I still find my worries cropping up when I’m working or reading or doing household chores or spending time with our children—even in the middle of my prayers. Then, the other day, it occurred to me that there’s one activity of mine that’s entirely worry-free.
At noontime most days, I take our dog Amsterdam out for a walk. We amble (well, I amble; Amsterdam mostly sniffs) north to Fort Tryon Park and make our way past the New Leaf Cafe (with time out for squirrel gazing), down the steps and under the road to the dog run. Amsterdam greets his friends Charlie and Gracie and Ollie and Brody and little Mickey.
After he’s run awhile with the pack, Amsterdam will usually indulge me with a game of fetch. He’s very good at running after a tennis ball, pretty good at finding it, and improving at picking it up and bringing it back to me. Then he’ll ramble around the run, stopping to explore a pile of wood chips (I have to be careful that he doesn’t start eating them) or catch the scent of the groundhog that lives just east of the run. He takes from each moment what it has to give and then moves on, secure in the knowledge that he’s loved and provided for.
When we leave the dog run, I’m rested and refreshed and reminded that I, too, am loved and provided for. I guess the Lord knew what He was doing when He created dogs.
