Gamora and the little French bulldog

Recently, Gamora had a visitor. A lovely little French bulldog who belongs to a friend popped by for a visit. The two of them hit it off. I was so absorbed by their interactions that I wasn’t very attentive to my friend. It’s lovely watching your dogs play, in my opinion. It’s a frolicking that feels light and joyful and it’s extremely engaging. This is all of course when they get along. 

Even when they hit it off, I guess as pet owners we keep an eye on our fur babies. I know the mischievous nature that my four legged ‘goofball’ (as one of my cousins affectionately calls Gamora) can get up to. I know too that she’s extremely used to being the centre of attention and has moments when she can get overwhelmed by things and wants her mama. Sure enough, all these things played out. Gamora’s love of treats means she immediately sits and waits when she knows a treat is on hand. Her little friend in her excitement didn’t sit quick enough for Gamora, and I made the mistake of not rewarding Gamora immediately when she sat. The result was an annoyed, emotional yelp by Gamora as she tried to prance and restore order (according to Gamora). It didn’t bode well with me because I wanted her trust. I wanted her to wait for me no matter what. We’ll need to work this out again. After all, everyday with me and Gamora is full of learning and growing closer and more In sync. It is trust building. 

As I think back on that little incident, I know that there is a lesson in it for me. Perhaps it relates to how I am towards God when I feel a blessing is delayed or when I can’t feel His guidance in a situation. I know I feel injured when I have been especially good (well, Gamora has her standards, I have mine). I dare not even count the number of times I’ve displayed a lack of trust in my Creator, the one who made me, provides for me, and who so graciously redeemed me. In that moment, Gamora forgot all the times I came through for her. She has good reason to also recognise my failures. Unlike God, who I don’t always trust to the fullest, I am flawed and I fail. The realisation is surreal. Unlike Gamora, I have no reason for distrust. 

This little hiccup was over in minutes and the frolicking resumed. They darted and ran and did all sorts until they were completely winded. They’d then grab a drink of water and flop themselves on the floor to recover their breaths. Watching their tongues hanging out the sides of their mouths and their little bellies rising and falling ever so rapidly with deep breaths was just captivating. I love such moments. It is a picture of bliss and contentment in a moment. There is no anxiety, no thought of what’s next, nor is there room for any unnecessary thought. All attention in that moment is on recovering enough energy to  give them a second wind. Lovely. 

There were a few moments where my little creature was not such a great host. This was when I carried the little Frenchie. She was so cute and she didn’t wriggle, unlike my Gamora who thrashes about to find maximum comfort in my arms. I guess for our little visitor, my arms are a strangers’ arms and she isn’t about to make herself comfortable as she would in her mum’s arms. The times I carried our visitor, Gamora would come flying over, jumping up with her ‘mama, carry me,’ signal. She wasn’t having it. The possessive nature of her part dachshund pedigree showed thoroughly. In many ways, I relate to how she behaves. I am an only child. My parents were great with others, but I always wanted them for myself. This bit makes me sad, though. I no longer have them. The bit of security that comes from being in the arms of your parent, given that the relationship allows for it, is simply unbeatable. This is one of the things that I am grieving now that my dad too is gone. It makes me sad. 

In a conversation with a senior leader from my organisation, she asked me how I would redefine myself now that papa was gone. I was always a daughter. I was always Leela’s and Stephen’s only daughter. I’ve not been able to get closer to identifying what redefining myself would be like. I do know that when my mum passed away, I had felt rather lost and was worried about who I had become. My pastor shared with me a poem by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, which ends with ‘Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, thou knowest O God, I am thine.’ These words come to mind as a soothing balm. For Gamora, the moment she’s in my arms, she’s extra sure she’s mine. For me, I must remember that on the cross, Jesus gave His life so that I could be His and He could be mine. 

I’m going to need more time to unpack how my dad’s passing redefines me. Now it’s not just my mum who’s gone. It’s the both of them. There are moments when I am unable to speak or write my feelings. It all feels like a haze. Yet, I am determined to use the moments I have been blessed with, like how my Gamy girl and her new Frenchie friend did. I’m going to try being in the moment. Taking a day at a time helps. It may be hard to breathe, but I will focus on my next breath and in the bliss of that moment try remembering that I am in Christ.