A Calm in the Storm

 I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship. Louisa May Alcott

Friends put out word a few weeks ago that they were scheduled to go away for a wedding and needed someone to take care of their house and dogs. Their usual caretaker had also scheduled time away, so they were desperate; they feared they would have to cancel their trip.

Being retired, I had the time necessary to read their email. Having pulse and respiration, I had a sudden urge to “be of service” (as we say in a number of organizations to which I belong). I found my fingers flying across the keyboard and offered to help if Obiwan Kenobi was otherwise unavailable. I am of an age where my fingers used to do the walking through the yellow pages, so it is not surprising that they decided to do the talking through the internet. I just wish they had spoken to me first. Why?

What do I know about dogs? I know how to take care of houses, of course. I’ve lived in many over the years. “I can open and close windows and doors with the best of ‘em,” says I. But dogs? While I am mildly acquainted with dogmatics from my years in the cloth, the four-legged critters of the canine persuasion are not all that high on my list of competencies (which could fit, in its unabridged entirety, on the inside cover of a match-book). 

Anyway, my friends had a need, and I had time, so I applied for the gig. I dropped by to get acquainted with Katie and Georgia (whom I’d not met previously due to Covid restrictions) and hit it off right off the bat, by which I mean they didn’t tear me from limb to limb. That was a pleasant surprise because, well, I’ll admit I’ve not always had good experiences with dogs, but I’ll spare you the tales of those tails and their scary details for another time.

Meanwhile, I am on day six watching the house and taking care of the dogs and everything is going well. I had hoped to have had some major adventures to report, but the critters are well-behaved and, aside from needing to take some medications for various ailments, they are very low-maintenance. If you put up one of those wildlife cameras so you could keep an eye on us 24/7, you wouldn’t know if you were watching video or looking at stills; it is that calm.

And that’s the point. I have discovered that my imagination is a far more potent opponent than life has ever been. Where I look for and anticipate a catastrophe around every corner and the apocalypse around every bend, very little has ever occurred that has lived up to my mind’s billing. I am my own worst false advertiser! I need to learn how to block the spam that comes into my cranial inbox, but if I did, with what would I fill the void? I must admit that while I don’t care for spam of the inbox and phone-call varieties, I do like the processed meat that goes by my name, but I digress.

No, I have found that whether dealing with work, family, church, politics, or any one of the myriad facets of life we face, things are seldom as bad as we make them out to be. There are those who say, “Plan for the worst and hope for the best,” but it seems they are whistling their way through the graveyard. 

Look ahead; sure. But don’t look so far ahead you trip over the dog beneath your feet. Do what needs to be done today, and have a sense of what needs to be done tomorrow, but don’t fret. After all, one may be high strung, but that doesn’t make them a guitar.

Working with Georgia and Katie, my new canine amigas, I’ve seen how dogs live “in” the moment. They know their needs, and their needs are few. My job was simply to pay attention. When I did that, the storms of anxiety faded and the ship sailed on toward a beautiful sunset, as it always does here in this, our valley. 

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)