I Miss My Friend

The wisdom of my pup pointing the way...

This morning, Scout pointed the way that I needed to go.

First some background...We were out for our morning walk for a sunrise made unique and beautiful because of smoke from Canadian wildfires that have drifted down this way.  With this first photo, I literally let out a bit of a gasp at what I saw of the color of the rising sun.

I then turned and saw the setting moon at the opposite horizon, itself a shade of orange/red.

As Scout and I continued our walk, I got thinking about Lisa.  It is three months to the day since she died and this was the type of sunrise and morning beauty that I would have sent to her as Scout and I walked.

I sent an iPhone photo and wrote the following to my family group text and to one of my clergy groups...

My DSLR will have a much better photo, but this is right now at Winton woods. I am in awe of the colors of this sunrise but I also ache because I know it’s because of the smoke from massive fires in Canada.  As Lisa would say, “it’s all in there”

I imagined the exchanges that Lisa and I would have had if life turned differently.  I know we would have both shared about the unique beauty of this sunrise but also lamenting the reason behind it.  “It’s all in there.”  Today was one of those days when grief showed back up to remind me that it was still with me.  I was definitely missing my friend.

About a mile later on our walk, we came to one of the boat ramps where I have periodically stopped because it is a beautiful point to take in the morning.  But today, I wasn’t going to stop but Scout had other ideas.  She just planted her feet and kept looking down toward where the ramp met the water.  I tugged a bit on the leash but she would not budge.  I began to approach her and she started walking down the boat ramp toward the water and as I started after her, she picked up her pace.   As we got to the edge of the water on what was a wonderfully cool June morning, I felt the warmth of the sun reflecting off the water as we got to the end of the ramp.  It felt exactly like a line of heat cutting through the cool air.

And then came a moment of stopping and resting.  I crouched down as I often do and found myself transfixed by the patterns in the water as they lapped up against the rocks at the edge.  I just stayed there for some amount of time - five minutes?  Ten?  After some period of time, I also realized that I was unconsciously tracing my labyrinth tattoo with my finger.  I needed  that moment and that rest.  It was beautiful and it was holy.  It was grief and sadness.  It was very real.

When I got home and spent some time continuing reading This Here Flesh by Cole Arthur Riley (which is an amazing book) and came to her chapter on Rest.  Her words just a few paragraphs into the chapter just rang out to me...

It seems like anytime God is talking about salvation in the Bible, he makes a point to name rest. “I’ll refresh tired bodies” (Jeremiah 31:25, MSG). “Find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:29). And, in Psalm 23:2, we have “He makes me lie down.” What a peculiar answer to the valley of the shadow of death. You might expect God’s response to be to have people rise, to empower them to fight. But God’s answer is unapologetic care for the body. The deepest yet most neglected of needs. What does it mean that in response to the terrors of the world, God would have us lie down? To eat? To drink from still waters? The most enduring yet undermined sentiment of evangelism: “Come to me all you that are weary…and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).  Arthur Riley, Cole. This Here Flesh (p. 148). The Crown Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Was the Spirit speaking through Scout this morning?  What was Scout picking up in me at that moment?  Or did Scout just want to get some sniffs in down by the water?  Was it just a happy accident of all of them together?   But two things that are definitely true... I needed these moments this morning and I miss my friend.