I’m just a dog, so I don’t pretend to understand everything my human does.
For instance, why he stares at that glowing rectangle and sighs like he’s lost his favorite chew toy.
Or why he paces when the food bowl (his, not mine) is already full.
Seems like a lot of worry for a creature who has opposable-thumbs.
But I’ve been watching.
Dogs are good at that.
Now, I’ve noticed something curious about my human.
He loves God, reads that worn out old Bible, even quotes Proverbs 3:5-6:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
But sometimes… he rocks that old chair like he’s trying to dig a hole through the floor.
So he held the Word open, closed his eyes and sat there for a minute like he does sometimes when he begins to dwell on something in his mind… or maybe in his heart.
And with my head on his foot—prime listening position—I heard him read that verse aloud again…. and again… and again.
Now I don’t know what “understanding” is exactly, but I do know what trust looks like.
Trust is when I hear the word “come,” and I come—even if there’s a squirrel mid-taunt in the yard.
Trust is laying down beside my human even when I don’t know where we’re going next.
Trust is believing that the same hand that withholds the extra treat is the one that feeds me every single day.
My human, though… he wrestles.
He tries to figure things out, fix things, carry things that look way too heavy.
I’ve seen him lean hard on his own “understanding,” and it makes him tired.
Real tired.
But when he pauses—when he prays—something changes.
His shoulders relax.
His breathing slows.
It’s like he remembers he’s not the one in charge after all.
That’s when I wag my tail a little harder.
Because I’ve learned something from him too.
When he trusts God, everything about him settles.
And when he settles, I settle.
It’s a good system.
Later, I heard him whisper another verse:
“Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.”
- 1 Peter 5:7
Now that one I understand.
Because I’ve never carried a single burden I wasn’t meant to.
If something’s too big, I drop it at his feet.
Every time.
Maybe that’s the lesson.
Not to figure it all out.
Not to carry what’s too heavy.
Not to chase every “what if.”
Just to stay close.
To follow.
To trust.
Here’s the thing—I don’t spend my days wondering if my human will forget me.
I don’t question if he’ll come home.
I don’t lie awake thinking about tomorrow’s meal.
I just trust him.
And if a dog can live that way with a human, surely a human can live that way with God.
Don’t overthink it.
Don’t outsmart it.
Don’t carry what you were never meant to hold.
Just trust.
After all, the One who made you knows the way better than you ever could. And He’s a whole lot more faithful than even the best human I know.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
