Dog days of summer

The past two days, I have devoted my leisure time to breaking in my Vibram Five Fingers. I like this life. It keeps me healthy, wealthy and wise. Today, I took Sofia and Oliver, the Shepherd/Lab mix puppies, for another swim-- their second in as many days.

Sofia is a loveable dog because she is different. She was conceived when her father, a 100+ pound white German Shepherd, dug under a fence to declare his love for Mom, a smaller-sized Yellow lab. From their forbidden love, beautiful blonde puppies were born, and we picked her, the one who shyed away from the strangers. To this day, she still regards all strangers with painful suspicion.

While I haven't met Sofia's parents, she seems to take after Dad's breed, the German Shepherd. She is anxious-- always on the lookout for "hostiles" who want to hurt the pack. She diligently guards the entry and monitors traffic flow, both vehicular and pedestrian, through the cul-de-sac. With maniacal barking and occasional panic yelping, she alerts of any unusual activity, which in her mind means "all activity." She lives on pins and needles, and I think it makes her tired.

Yet, Sofia is faithful. She has been a protective and fun-loving outdoors companion since she was barely strong enough to walk. I vividly remember her soft furry body struggling through puddles twice her size, never missing a beat. Those who know her love her, even though she has a strange and obsessive personality. "It's not her fault she's weird," we say.

Besides her talents in running and security detail, Sofia also loves swimming. If you ever get the chance, observe her technique, her long legs stroking the water, her brown snout cutting just above the brown river water. She is graceful.

Today, I called Sofia and her brother out to the middle of the river, where I was floating a few few feet above the river bottom. With a kick and a splash, the dogs began treading furiously towards their pack leader.

Sofia, the better swimmer (and also the better listener), reached me first. Her paw found a solid place on my leg, and seeing her panting, I grabbed her in my arms and floated her along, the current streaming over my back as I began to move us upstream.

I hoped Sofia would come along and rest her heaving chest, but rather pathetically, she began to move her paws again. She thought she was the one moving us along! Seeing the futility of carrying her, I released her like a fish off the hook and pushed her butt towards shore. Sofia paddled back to the muddy bank and waited for her human to finish his soak.

During prayer tonight, I realized I have been Sofia. How can I rest if I won't stop swimming, and how can I move upstream without the Master? God isn't asking much of me-- only a few moments. Too often, I fail to oblige him, because I remain dutifully confident in my own abilities. I think this is sad.

God, you are my portion. Your word declares that they who wait on you will surely renew their strength. Help me to rest in your arms of love, before I grow weary. Help me to to release the externalities that drive my thoughts away from your grace so I may truly enjoy our rest. And if the current should ever prove too strong, carry me. I give you this day; it is all I have. If I see tomorrow, I pray I remember the day I learned to rest. Amen.