The day after Gavin and I moved into our current apartment, we went for a walk. It was a perfect 70ish-degree day, sunny and quiet. I let him pick our route. I wanted my sweet boy to find his way in his own time. Our slow, sniff-filled stroll was heavenly. We both blissfully be-bopped along, glancing and smiling at each other with such delight that a car pulled up, and the man said, “that is one happy dog.” I beamed boastfully. It took a lot of work to get to that place. I was proud of myself, perhaps a little too puffy, as the man drove off, continuing with his day.
My head was in the clouds when my tennis shoe hit the brick, and I bumbled forward and fell to the ground. Gavin’s giant water bottle hit the sidewalk and rolled into the grass, thankfully not toward my sensitive boy. As I assessed my knees and minorly skinned hands from breaking my fall, I looked at Gavin. He stood there, waiting patiently for me to collect myself and move on.
Life and dogs have a way of humbling us just when we think we’ve figured things out. From making the bed, discovering dog vomit between the sheets that must have occurred while we soundly slept, to realizing how much we love the dog who was supposed just to be our buddy. Yet, he became our whole world, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
So, today I offer this homage to humility. Let’s take a few seconds to sit in our feelings, so they don’t overtake our thoughts and actions. May we become amused rather than annoyed when someone cuts us off in traffic. And may we give ourselves grace when we fall.