Today makes a week without my baby. I love talking about the good things that come with moving to Nigeria, but the tough stuff seems to lay low. I’m having to break ties that I thought I could manage. In this case, though, I was fully aware that I Aries wasn’t coming to Africa. I knew when I got accepted into the program that I would have to find a home for my best friend. He’s grown to be such a loving and compassionate dog. I know it may seem silly to some, but when I first got diagnosed, he was my personification of peace and rest. If you’ve read my blog about him, you get an image of the way he emotionally, spiritually, and physically took care of me before my surgery. There were nights he sat still enough to help me get up off the floor if I’d passed out from blood loss. There were days when he became my pillow by the toilet because I couldn’t keep anything down, but my body wanted to sleep. There were evenings when I just couldn’t move, and shouldn’t have tried, so he didn’t let me. He’s was my protector. He’s the most energetic and hyper ball of ridiculousness, but when I needed him to be my rock, he was.
Sleeping without him is gonna take some getting used to. I promised authenticity throughout this journey, so that means not every post will be a beaming ray of sunshine. That means that I may have days where obedience to God hurts. I’m finally starting to understand what it means in Matthew 10:39
“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”
I could easily go over and visit him, but he is now able to serve elsewhere (just like mommy). I have to start detaching eventually, right? He’s become that same source of serenity for a young woman who needs him. I’m thankful that it has all happened that way, and I don’t count it a coincidence. I won’t type a crazy long blog about how hard it is learning life without Tut, but I will say that I’m thankful to have had such a sweet friend in him. I think this is the beginning of an extremely hard transitioning phase. I’m ready. This isn’t the most profound piece I’ve ever written. I don’t have any special nuggets of knowledge to share. I didn’t have a revelation of any sort. I simply miss my dog. I think missing people, and pets alike, is okay. It shows us that we’re still human. It shows us that the ways of the world don’t have us so emotionally calloused that we can no longer feel. I can experience a loss of any kind and mourn it freely. I’m thankful for that. I know so many people who are breaking down unthinkable walls, including myself, so it’s encouraging to be reminded that every brick …
no matter how small …
is being removed.
Thank you for reading.
I love you.
