Tripping Over Tess
Jason and I have had five dogs during our married life, each of which could be classified as clingy. If I left my office to go to the kitchen, they would follow. When I went to the bathroom, they would accompany me and stand guard. Inside, outside. It didn’t matter. Where I went, they went. I’m well acquainted with this particular characteristic.
But Tess is a next-level velcro dog. She is so in step with me that I often lose track of her because she’s so close behind me that I can’t even see her.
Watch Out for the Little Things
My back has improved dramatically over the past few weeks, and I'm almost back to my normal activity level. I still have the occasional twinge, which makes me stress over aggravating it again, but overall, I'm doing better.
It’s Just Like Riding a Bike
Not long after moving here, Jason decided he would like an e-bike. (For those of you who are ignorant like I was, an e-bike is just a bicycle with a motor, which really comes in handy when one has to climb the many hills around here.). Anyway, the e-bike makes a lot of sense. Being only five miles from town, Jason can easily ride into town to pick up things, drop items off, or conduct any other business he may have. It’s also been a great tool for our letterboxing ministry as he can ride up and down the streets, neighborhoods, and farm roads and distribute our church literature to the mailboxes of each home.
The Valley of Distraction
Typically, walking with Tess is a piece of cake. She doesn’t pull on the leash. She minds well when I tell her to leave something alone. In general, she’s very chill. This morning’s walk, however, offered several more challenges to tempt and distract my well-mannered terrier.
The first distraction came from the stinky leakage left behind by the trash trucks. I don’t know what the appeal is, but I haven’t had a single dog that could pass by without wanting to roll around in that nasty goop. Gross!
Trailblazing Through Life
I recently heard a comment that made me laugh out loud. A woman exclaimed, "I've never understood what people see in hiking. It's just walking where the ground doesn't cooperate." Take it from an experienced hiker; she's not far off. As someone who has had my fair share of tumbles on the trail, I can testify the ground isn't particularly cooperative.
So often, we refer to our spiritual journey as a Christian walk, but after examining this woman's statement, I think it would better be described as a Christian hike. After all, seldom does the ground cooperate.