Sometimes Courage is Taking One Quivering Step in a New Direction
I sip a cup of Earl Grey tea out on the deck of a cabin near Mormon Lake, Arizona while listening to the elk bugle in the distance, the sound mingling with the morning chorus of the birds.
Our dog Mollie hovers by the screen door, unwilling to join me. She is afraid of the deck—the echo under her pads and the feel of the rough wood. Her puppy brain holds memories of her days on the streets before we rescued her from the pound eight years earlier. Usually, she shows no signs of that traumatic time and is a great, trail-loving companion, but every time we throw her into something new, I believe she remembers those days when she was alone and abandoned.
Despite continual coaxing I cannot convince her to step outside the four walls of her security. Finally, I heave her thirty-five pounds of quivering fur into my arms and place her on the deck in front of the steps leading down to the woods where adventures in juniper and oak trees await.
My red woolen shirt is now covered in long orange fur, as I move to the bottom of the stairs and repeat the coaxing. The persuading. The bribing.
Again, nothing.
Mollie’s tail is unfurled. Her ears dejected. Her shoulders hunched. Her entire body speaks one language and one language only.
Fear.
A squirrel chatters above me in a Ponderosa pine as I lift Mollie’s deadweight form into my arms and carry her down the eleven steps. I hope she will forget her fear once her feet touch the carpet of pine needles, but as soon as her paws hit the ground, she bolts around the cabin to sit at the front door waiting to be let into her sanctuary.
We repeat the process again. The coaxing. The lifting. The shaking. The fear.
Soon she is fine with the deck, but the stairs prove to be her nemesis. She hovers at the top. Unsure. Wavering.
Is the promise of adventure worth the risk of facing the fear?
For the next thirty minutes we practice. Up and down. Up and down.
At the time of this writing, Mollie is still tentative, adjusting to the newness. I await the day when she will go sniffing in the underbrush and return to my whistle, all laughing eyes and wagging tail.
But it is not this day.
New things can be exciting, but can stir up insecurity, even fear. We may not be able to rely upon old habit patterns and find ourselves hovering at the top of the stairs, needing to learn new skills that will lead us to adventure.
Sometimes courage is taking one quivering step in a new direction.
Be strong. Take courage. Don't be intimidated. Don't give them a second thought because GOD, your God, is striding ahead of you. He's right there. Deuteronomy 31:6 MSG
This story recently appeared in the SanTan Sun News.