Making My Dog Poop – October 2023

We have a 2-year-old German Shepherd pup who I take for walks most mornings. It has been
a pretty efficient operation until recently. Previously, I thought Georgie was trained to do her
business in the nearby park; very convenient with garbage cans for the poop bags with no
landowners hovering to give you the evil eye. Then she started walking past the park to do it
in the neighbors’ yards, often those with anti-pooping signs, signified by a crouching
schnauzer with a red line through it.

Until Georgie went rogue, I was using our walks for prayer and reflection- get ready for the
day stuff. Lately, the time has evolved into pleading and arguing with the dog. “Georgi,
POOP!” “Sorry. Not feeling it.” “Poop, here you ungrateful animal!” “I was thinking over
there by the schnauzer sign would be better.” ARGHHhhh!

I guess I have no ability to make my dog poop on command. Add this to a growing list of
things I either can’t do or can’t do easily anymore. I can’t be aggressive on my mountain bike
or wade across the river without falling from time to time. I can’t remember the name of the
person I just met or the one thing my wife asked me to remember to do for her while she was
away. Whereas my early life was about developing competency at as many things as
possible, I’m now coming to grips with a growing list of things I can’t do like I used to.
The upside to this new reality is how I relate to God amidst this otherwise depressing
reality. Previously, I wanted to minimize my dependence on God to only those things I
couldn’t handle on my own. I was okay with God stepping in from time to time with some
help. Less so for my full-fledged acknowledgment of my need for him in everything I do. I
suspect this new way of thinking puts me closer to reality and what has really been going on
all along.

There is a story where a rich man walks away in sadness after Jesus told him to sell his stuff to
better follow him. As the man was leaving in regret, Jesus told his friends that it was nearly
impossible for those with wealth to enter into his kingdom, creating understandable
confusion since everyone then assumed earthly blessing equated to the same in heaven.
Amidst their confusion and discouragement, he told them what was impossible for them is
possible with God.”

The trend of my life is that more things will end up in the impossible bucket as I grow
older. A certain part of me will always fight this reality. If you follow me off the ski lift this
winter, you will see me acting like a young fool on my snowboard, dodging trees, and
hunting for fresh powder. My writing reflects an attempt to develop the creative right side of
my brain and improve how it is expressed. Both are proof that I will never stop pushing
myself to get the most out of what I’ve been given. It’s what makes life interesting.

But handing things over to one for whom the impossible is possible has been an encounter
with grace for me. Unloading things I was never intended to carry has made life lighter and
more joyful and I have found a new peace that I didn’t know existed. I am like an alcoholic
who asks the Higher Power for help staying sober each day. Although in my case, drinking’s
not my problem–it’s everything else. I am trying to kill the notion that my competence is
enough. I see now that my skills were never the primary determinant of success. There were
always other things in play in the background that I was never aware of.

All this is a transition and one I’m still learning. While I while I still relish not having to pull
back yet on a snowboard, that day of reckoning for that is coming soon. With it will come a
shorter path to self-awareness and humility along with greater dependence on the one for
whom the impossible is undaunting. Aiding my transition is a willful young dog who reminds
me each morning of my limitations as a dog trainer. And also that puppies, like the world
itself, don’t often yield to our competencies or desires.

When I fail, and often I will. I hope to become more at peace with my revealed shortcomings
rather than see them all as a referendum on whether I have value or am loved. Life has a way
of forcing that issue upon us during morning dog walks. And virtually everything else we do.