“Never a dull moment!”

You haven’t heard me say that in a while, but not because it isn’t still true. 

This story begins on Labor Day weekend…

I’d felt mildly disappointed when we didn’t get to plan anything special or fun for the “last official weekend of summer.” Especially this year.  We’ve had a lot happening, and we have a lot more coming up.  We got to do some of the things we wanted this summer, but we didn’t get to do others.  Letting the weekend marking its end pass just like any other (only longer by one day) felt like a bit of a letdown, yet also somehow appropriate for this season. 

Resigned to that, a plan combining the hope of enjoying some of it while being productive with the rest of it ended up my goal.  The weather did the enjoyment part no favor when it showed up sooner and worse than the forecast had originally warned.  But that Saturday afternoon, before (well, OK, really – actually, while) the bottom dropped out, we did spend a few determined hours on the river.  We even spent it somewhat together as a family:  Tommy and I on our boat, Ian and his sweet black lab, Drake, on “their” boat.

Watching Ian and Drake, cruising along together like they do, just never stops being one of the cutest, most beautiful things I’ve ever seen…   

That afternoon, we got to watch Drake run the banks, splash, swim, and live his best life.  Then, once the rain eventually forced us all ashore and home, to smile at the happily exhausted, shiny black, remarkably small curl of him - sound asleep.  Even through a card game and dinner grilled within feet of him.  Especially sweet since we know his almost-2-year-old, still-puppylike energy:  He’d had a good day. 

Maybe you’ve heard me explain before how Drake came to live with us as, technically, Ian’s puppy. But then quickly claimed a place all his own in our family - and in all our hearts.  We all love him so much.  We also love that together, sharing in his care and the time we each invest in him, we can give him a great life:  An everyday home he loves, plus all the fun things he gets to do – of which that Saturday had provided a perfect sampling.  Tommy and I have even formed a summer weekend habit of taking him for evening golf cart rides along the river and around our little town – something else he loves.  He’d pretty much gotten to do all of his favorite things that day, and with his family.

We know he loves us all.  But he loves nobody quite the way he loves Ian: “His boy” as I call him when I ask him things like, “You wanna go play with your boy, don’t you?”  (Yes.  I talk to Drake all day – and you’d better believe I know he understands!)  His boy is his world.  The sound of Ian’s truck, the security system’s “beep-beep-beep” when he’s due home, or even his first name spoken aloud (We spell it a lot… thank goodness it’s only three letters!) can take him from perfectly content to out of his mind in a fraction of an instant.  He wants nothing more than to get to his boy, and when it comes to time spent by Ian’s side, Drake’s never heard of too much of a good thing. 

As that Labor Day Weekend Saturday wound down, we eventually all felt ready to settle inside for the evening.  Drake – still pretty relaxed from his day of adventures – lay peacefully on the living room rug.  Tommy and I settled onto the couches to watch a DVR’d show we enjoy.  It’s important to note what a rare occurrence this is!  Weekend nights are literally the only time we ever do that, and we don’t always get to do it then.  So, it’s kind of a big deal. 

That’s when Ian passed by, headed outside to put his boat into the garage for the night.  Remember how I said Drake just can’t get enough time with his boy?  The moment he saw him go, he launched himself up, as though off a trampoline instead of a rug – relaxation clearly over!   He ran from window to window trying to see where his boy had gone, whining agitatedly all the way:  Drake-speak for, “Wait!  You forgot me!” 

That one laid-back hour a week we spend watching TV together?  Also clearly over unless someone acted fast!  Phoneless myself (a requirement for real relaxation to me), I urged Tommy to text the poor, separation anxiety plagued (and at that moment, quite annoying!) little guy’s boy to come back and get him.  I didn’t think I’d even seen his thumb move yet when, suddenly, the screen door opened and then slammed shut.  And all sounds of Drake’s distress went silent…

In the next fraction of a second, my thoughts came in rapid-fire:

“Wow.  That was fast.  Actually… too fast… And weird that Ian just took him without saying a word… Surely, he did take him…?  Because surely Drake couldn’t have opened that door…?”  Then, just like that, my mind flashed back to a moment a few weeks ago when, one afternoon, I’d seen Drake thoughtfully studying the latch on that door, then moving to test it with his paw.  My warning, “Noooo…” had ended the experiment before it really began. 

Drake isn’t the only one who can launch, apparently. Because at that recollection, I rocketed off the couch, and a second later, out the door.  Into complete, dark, quiet.  With no sign of a black lab or his boy anywhere. 

My frantic, “Draaaaaake!?  DRAKE!!!” shattered that quiet.  (Sorry, neighbors.) 

Had he taken off down the street!?  What if a car hit him!??  Did he go to the river??  The woods???  And where was his boy??  I needed help!  I plowed my panic-stricken self through the side garage door just in time to see that boy - looking awfully puzzled as he met my obnoxious entrance with a question:

“Where’d he come from??”

Turns out Ian had heard something and looked up just in time to see a little black streak fly around the corner and into the back garage door. From the side road – exactly the path he’d just taken with his boat.  Apparently, Drake made his entrance, licked his boy on the leg, then just flopped down contentedly.  Kind of like, “No big deal.  I have no idea why Mommy’s screaming my name…”   

You know that “mom” moment when you don’t know whether to beat a butt or hug a neck?  I’ve known it many times, and I knew it again just then.  Exhaling a huge sigh of relief, I looked into the pair of big, shiny black eyes gazing at me and wondered who I was kidding.  I settled for one stern (yet slightly amazed), “That was bad!” Then, with the sound of my heart pounding in my own ears beginning to fade, I made my way back to the house.

A while later, Ian came inside and met no disagreement when he said, “You know, as bad as that was, it’s actually pretty impressive…” 

Focused on nothing but getting to his boy, Drake had figured out how to open the door (without thumbs, thank you very much!), sniff out his exact trail, and get there.  He hadn’t waited for permission or even a logical opportunity.  He’d let nothing stop him from doing what makes his world feel right.

Maybe it’s crazy (or maybe it’s sweet, I don’t know) that it took a runaway dog to make me see it, but I later realized how much this whole incident reminded me of something:  Me and God lately.  And isn’t it just like Him to find a way to make me see it? 

It’s almost as if He’d run after me, calling my name because I’d run away…  

…I wanted to tell you so much this summer. 

I even spent hours and typed thousands of words trying to write my story of that season – and what I learned from it – to share here.  Yet, I just never quite got it done.  Within those hours, those words, and the introspection they required, though, I gradually began realizing:  In so many ways, the story of my summer looked a whole lot like the story of my year so far.  And that explained a lot.

I’ve allowed busyness, circumstances, stress, a mind full of never-ending things to do, and the frustration and discouragement that come when I fall short at it all, to knock me completely off course when it comes to prioritizing the things I know make my world feel right. 

Focused time to write each day is one of those things.  I struggled for not only that this summer, but also for true focus on much of anything.  I stayed “busy” for sure – that’s never a problem.  Except when it is the problem.   I did a lot of things, but often half-heartedly; usually thinking of what I had to do next or what I “should” be doing instead. 

Worst of all, I gradually even allowed this pervasive distraction to infiltrate the time I spend with God.  And when that happens?  Well: Nothing else in my world has even a chance of feeling right. 

I’ve really looked forward to summer’s end and hoped hard that a new season might help change a lot of things. 

I’m trying to take tiny steps back in the direction I know is right for me.      

As I writer, I’ve drawn at least slight comfort from hearing other writers say, “Me, too.”  Apparently different seasons – or years – get hard for most of us.  Listening to a few I admire addressing that lately, I couldn’t help but notice a repeating theme in their advice for breaking through the distraction and the block: “Write what you know.” 

Among Drake’s extended family who also loves him, I ended up telling the story of his great escape a few times over the remainder of our holiday weekend:  Amazement and head shakes abounded, because… all of it! 

While catching up with a friend early last week, I caught myself about to tell it again.  But I stopped when I realized:  This week - right now? 

This is what I know.

This had begun to feel like more than a funny story about a smart, determined dog, because I’d begun to realize how much I could learn from it:    

I could learn from Drake how to love more fiercely and unconditionally, for sure.  And at the same time, to appreciate how it makes others feel to receive that kind of love.  We all know that feeling, thanks to the way he loves us.  Even when he does something “bad,” forgiveness comes easily because we know how much he loves us, and how hard he tries to show it. 

I could also learn to live a life far more focused on what I know really matters to me.  Why don’t I run as hard as he does, with that kind of devotion - toward the things I know make my world feel right?   Why don’t I find a way - and let nothing stop me?   

I could learn something by watching how completely he believes that he’s loved and forgiven.  How he wastes no time on shame, guilt, and regret over the things he gets wrong, but instead moves happily forward - with pure joy.    

Why don’t I try that?   

I wish I’d done plenty of things better this summer, including writing the story of it.  I still hope to finish that and share it here someday, because it’s really mattered in my life.       

Meanwhile, I believe God’s seen me trying.  At all of it.  I believe He’s forgiven me for the ways I’ve gotten it wrong, and that He’s simply happy to see me back now, moving forward. 

It’s a joy to be back.