Limping Toward Grace

"You are not allowed to give me any bad news," I proclaimed to my veterinarian.

She is wonderful, but after walking two geriatric Goldens through the season when it was simply their time to go, and now finding myself with a limping dog, I felt compelled to make an announcement—or perhaps issue a warning.

Bruce has been limping for a couple of weeks now. Not constantly, but often enough to keep me concerned.

I tried rest. I skipped some of our Open Class training. I didn't even make him heel.

Still, the limping persisted.

I gave him some Carprofen.

Still limping.

Then came the exam.

"Ouch...that right elbow is angry," my veterinarian said.

Yeah. I suspected that was the culprit.

Bruce already has Grade 2 elbow dysplasia, so it wasn't exactly a surprise. But it wasn't the news I was hoping to hear either.

The prescription is straightforward enough: 14 days of Rimadyl, regular glucosamine, and 30 days of rest.

The implementation, however, is another matter entirely.

Keeping an energetic puppy from body-slamming an active adult Golden Retriever is going to require creativity, patience, and possibly divine intervention.

Moses is convinced every moment should be playtime. Bruce is convinced every moment should involve his human. Neither of them seems interested in discussing orthopedic recovery plans.

And so here we are.

Ever wonder what God is up to?

We have been preparing to show in AKC Open Class. We've been training, working, and making progress. Then suddenly, a limp changes the plan.

For at least the next month, training will look different. After that, we'll see.

Life sometimes requires a temporary pivot.

Sometimes a permanent one.

The hard part isn't always the change itself. Often it's the waiting. The uncertainty. The realization that no amount of planning, effort, or determination can force the outcome we want.

Disappointment and waiting are part of life.

Most of us would gladly skip both.

But as I sat with the news, another thought came to mind:

Reminder to self: God isn't surprised by any of this.

Not Bruce's elbow.

Not the interrupted training plans.

Not the thirty days of rest.

Not the waiting.

Not the disappointment.

Long before I mapped out an AKC Open debut, God already knew what this summer would hold.

Sometimes I act as though an unexpected diagnosis or a sudden change in plans has somehow thrown heaven into chaos. But the truth is that while I may be surprised, God is not.

He knew about the limp before I noticed it. He knew about the rest period before the veterinarian prescribed it. He knew every detour before I ever started the journey.

The plan may have changed, but God has not.

And there is comfort in that.

In the meantime, I will do my best to take care of my Brucie. I'll try to keep Moses entertained and prevent the two of them from treating the living room like a demolition derby.

And, in the words of comedienne Leanne Morgan, I'll try to stay off the whiskey and not go honky-tonking.

For now, that's enough.

One day at a time.

One walk at a time.

One healing elbow at a time.

One faithful God who already knew.

And perhaps that's where faith lives—not in having all the answers, but in trusting God while we wait for them.

Sigh...

But we'll keep moving forward.

Sandy

Isaiah 40:31
 But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.