One morning, I had a tight schedule. I woke up early to get in my cycling workout before a meeting at work. Afterward, I was going to drive up to Austin to visit family and enjoy an intense weekend of cycling. I had everything calculated and managed.
Then on my morning ride, I crashed. I was able to finish and ride home and take care of myself. I called out of the meeting and took my dog for a walk. Limping, feeling sorry for myself, and busily rescheduling the weekend in my head, my thought set on something my little dog had done that morning. When we’re away, he likes to rearrange our shoes, and when I thought of how he’d done it that morning I started to laugh—and then to cry.
I’d been wound up so tightly, thinking everything was important except for what was really important. I had always made time to ride, but rarely for church, as the two were usually in conflict. I hadn’t made much time at all for prayer or thinking about God, but my little dog’s simple expression of love reminded me of the profound Love that surrounds and guides and protects me. I realized that I was already safe, and I was heading in the right direction. My day fell into place, the pain was gone, no longer a distraction, and I was immediately and supremely content.
