Release

I have to show some restraint not to write continually about all the things I learn about God from my dog. I realize not everyone loves dogs, and not everyone spiritualizes all of life like I do. But this one I'm sharing.

Oakley is a hunter. The kind that hunts through the window pane. And there is a lot of window-pane hunting to be done at 7 a.m. as the squirrels and rabbits chase around our yard and the neighbor dogs free range into our driveway. Because Oakley is confined to the small space between the table and the window, the only way to express his hunting enthusiasm is to whine, bark, and paw at the window. Essentially, he loses his mind. He did this the other day, using his high-pitched little-girl bark that makes us want to hide when we're in public and makes my husband wonder why he ever acquiesced to a poodle mix. In an effort to save the wood on my windowsills, I jumped up from my spot next to him and walked into a different room. And just like that, he followed me. Whatever he had been obsessing over a half-second earlier vanished from his mind. The bark was gone, the windowsill was safe, all because he has this compulsion to follow me wherever I go.

I'm still trying it on for size, but I think my word for 2020 is release. I have an obvious connection to this word because I'm in a releasing season of life. One definition of release is to allow something to move or flow freely. Faster than I can keep up, I am releasing my kids: "Kids, you are now free to move safely about the big world." Their seatbelts are unbuckled, they've grabbed their bags, and off they go. This is tremendously exciting and I love it, but it's also hard. Devastatingly hard, if I'm honest. I will get much practice releasing over the next 5 1/2 years, which means it's a word and a concept that I want to make friends with.

But there's another reason why the idea of release is resonating with me. I can easily get stuck in holding patterns of negative thinking. I've never been one who can stay mad or sad for any sustained amount of time. I hear a good 80's song and, boom, I'm dancing around, joyful and carefree. But what I can hang onto is envy, wishing someone else's experience was my own. (For some reason, I'm more envious of experiences than material possessions.) I can also hold onto my desire for control, wanting to make people who I wish they would be. By people, I am of course referring to my children. I can hold onto my desire for applause and affirmation from other people. Envious, controlling, and needy for affirmation are not the me I want to be. God and I are in agreement on that.

So I'm thinking a lot about what it means to release. Merriam-Webster's first definition of release is to set free from constraint, confinement, or servitude. Here's where Oakley comes in. I could give him what he wants and open the door, but he's never going to catch a rabbit. All he would do is spend a lot of energy chasing something that doesn't really satisfy him. But when he followed me away from the window, he got true release. His mind was free. He could focus again on how content he is just being with me, watching me unload the dishwasher.

What if I got my way? What if I could have all the experiences and the praise I think I want? What if I could shape my kids into exactly the people I think they should be? Would it satisfy me for even a day? Or would I just find new ways to be the me I don't want to be? The best kind of release is not to free my mind to think on whatever it wants, but to release those thoughts to God and follow Him into another room.

Not all the negative thoughts in my mind are purposeless. Some of them are there to teach me something. With some God says, "Hey, let's dig a little deeper and work through this together." But some just need to go. Sometimes I just need to stop fixating on the rabbits in my mind and follow the Master into the next room, where I can enjoy His company, my mind at ease.