Our family dog Lilly loves the snow. Even at her elderly age she begs to go out and chase her stick. Of course that means me putting on my snow pants, boots, coat, hat and gloves. Sometimes I don’t mind. The other times I have to force myself to put on the heavy armor to battle the cold. The dog teases enough to get me out the door. She is quite passionate about her snow time. Lately there has been a happy doggie at our house. The snow has been plentiful.
Lilly finds her favorite stick and brings it near me. As soon as I pick it up she is off to a “staging area” where she waits for me to loft the stick. When she sees it land with a puff of white she bounds like a lion in the tall grass and pounces. She lies there chewing briefly, rolls in the snow, savors the texture of crunch against her back scratching her worries away. Then she pauses, sniffs the air, looks and listens for any other creatures. She seems to smile at the goodness of a new blanket of snow, the kingdom that has become her playground.
In her meditative state the dog embraces the crispness of nature born anew, the goodness of the day and the promises of the creator. In her state of play she embodies the right order of creation and the mindset of right relationship; creature to creator. The dog plays prayer.
And I wonder, do I have to chase a stick or roll in the snow to know what my dog seems to know about prayer?
Roll and chase and do snow angels and continue to play in God's creation. How else can we ever really experience it? Good stuff, Steve
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