Wiley's Wisdom

Joy: From the Ground Up

When Bad Turns Good February 23, 2015

Filed under: Man's Best Friend — Wiley Schmidt @ 9:11 pm
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It was dark and it was cold. And I was worried. I had a bad feeling tonight I couldn’t shake. The action that caused it was nothing out of the ordinary in itself.

Most things about the night were the same as always. Dear baby Carter and I celebrated as we always do when dad got home from that place called work. A delicious smelling dinner was enjoyed together as a family, followed by family time and ultimately Carter’s bedtime routine. What do you think?

My dear forever mom then went to that place called work, as she does on Monday nights, to something called a school board meeting. (I have no idea what a school board meeting is, or why she needs to go to them, but that’s no matter.) Dad took a bit longer than usual to say goodbye to her, telling her to be safe and be warm more than usual almost like he felt what I was feeling too.

An hour went by. And another hour. And another hour. I paced the kitchen. Then the basement. Then the kitchen again. I usually take my later evening nap during the time that passed. Instead, I found my restless heart wouldn’t let me rest.

It was dark and it was cold and my heart hurt thinking about what life could look like without mom. Without the new little person. That is until I realized how terrible that was to even think about so I forced myself back to the pacing.

Then it happened. I heard the car and the door and the key in the door. She was home safely and unharmed. In that moment, I felt joy. And relief. And a little more joy. From the ground up, I realized how silly I’d been to worry the night away.

That is, until I realized even this thing called worry has a silver lining, especially if it is completely unnecessary as mine was tonight. Even a bad feeling turns into a good one when you realize you were wrong to worry. I don’t usually like being wrong, being wrong felt so right.

 

Dodging Bullets November 25, 2013

I’ve dodged my fair share of bullets in my five years of doggie life. Not literally (obviously) but figuratively. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. I’ve been attacked in all of these ways and yet I have remained intact.

I made it safely out of a sticky situation in the road with some cars the day I got separated from my birth mom and brothers. I survived an attack by another dog at the dog park. My mom persevered through the struggle to adopt me (it wasn’t an easy process because I’d already been returned once before). These are all things I’ve lived through. I’d go as far as to call them my life’s biggest close calls.Dodging Bullets

But I’m not sure anything lived up to the moment I experienced today on the car trip to the groomer. Because today it wasn’t just my life in danger. It was my forever mom’s life. And the future little person’s life. And it was terrifying.

It was snowing – the first somewhat significant snowfall in Wisconsin this winter – and it was beautiful. I love everything about snow. I love the stillness it brings, and the method in which it is delivered. Except for today. Today it was danger personified. One minute we were safe. The next the car felt slippery and out of control. I thought for sure we were going to hit something.

My heart raced. My body shook. Time stood still. (Apparently it’s this way for people too). Then the moment passed. The car was back under control like nothing had happened. I didn’t stop shaking. My heart kept a steadily fast pace. But we were okay. We were safe. All three of us were safe.

I’ve had my fair share of what you could refer to as close calls. This one was different. Because it wasn’t about me. It was about my forever person and my future little person. I’ve got plans for us – big plans – and in that moment nothing was more important than that.

“It’s our challenges and obstacles that give us layers of depth and make us interesting,” suggested American actress and TV personality Ellen DeGeneres. ” Are they fun when they happen? No. But they are what make us unique.”

The snow taught me yet another beautiful lesson today. It’s one I’m sure I already knew, but I certainly welcome the reminder. My people are more important to me than myself. Their safety, their happiness, their joy comes before my own. I don’t care how many bullets I need to dodge to protect that truth.