the blink of an eye

It happened in a blink, the way these things usually do.

We were babysitting Brett and Abby's puppy, our grandpup; a rascally, endearing, sixty-pound Sheepadoodle named Berkley.

They’re in love with that guy (we are too) and had trouble leaving him for the dog-free overnight they were embarking on.

I finally said, “Okay now, just go. He’s in good hands—I promise. He’ll be just fine!”

They reluctantly left, and we had a great day with Berk with lots of bonding and play time between Craig and the one-year-old, even though, prior to this day he mostly barked at his “grandpa.”

Collin and Jennifer were here, also, along with Marina, who had just returned from work and was showering for dinner. Craig was grilling outside when I told him I’d take Berkley for a walk before we eat.

We went for a quick, trouble-free loop around the block and came back in by the garage. Through the window, I saw Collin and Jennifer in our unfenced, front yard by the lake playing with our two dogs, so I joined them with Berkley.

Our little dog and Berkley started jumping on and circling each other, their tails wagging fast.

I was tethered to Berkley and kept getting yanked by the arm, becoming more aware by the second that his leash was tangling between their eight collective paws. 

I knew I shouldn’t, but ...

I made a rash decision to let go of the leash, allowing the two dogs to wrestle uninhibited and ... wouldn’t you know?

Just like that, Berkley took off like a shot.

He did a couple intricate football moves to avoid Jennifer, who saw he was bolting and tried to grab him.

He ran straight for the lake—somehow stopping himself from falling off the seawall into the water—then turned and ran toward the stairs that lead to the pier in the adjacent community park.

At this point, I was chasing Berkley and Collin was following, too, calling the dog’s name. 

Berkley took a hard left and dashed perpendicularly out of the park boundaries and straight into the road.

Collin sped past me, and I yelled, “You have to catch him!”

While running, he flipped the shoes he was wearing into the grass and kicked it into high gear.

Berkley turned sharply to the right and completely booked it all the way down our street with his leash dragging. Collin was in hot pursuit.

I was useless in my flimsy sandals but jogged behind, and the crazed, galloping beast and barefooted Olympic runner caught the attention of a few neighbors. 

One hollered to me, “Did you see how fast they’re going?”

I was out of my mind, hands on my head … No! I promised them!How will I possibly explain to Berkley’s momand dad that I somehow lost their baby?

I responded with something like, “My son’s dog!”  

The same neighbor replied back in the most dumbstruck way, “That’s your son?”  He couldn’t believe how fast Collin was sprinting. 

His reaction makes me laugh now, but at the time, the distress we were experiencing was lost on him.

I continued down the road, praying to myself, “God, please help us. Please help us get Berkley back!”

Jennifer was sprinting, also, and I shouted, “Go get the car!” Berkley had now gone so far that he vacated our neighborhood by careening through the narrow, pebbly footway that leads to another one. I wasn't thinking clearly that it would be futile to get the car because it wouldn't fit through.

She did get the vehicle, though, and about the time she pulled up, I was almost to the slim walkway and could see the top of Collin’s head behind the tall bushes bordering.

I swore I heard him say, “I’ve got him.”

What? Absolutely impossible!

But then, yes—just like the jaw-dropping, final clip of an edge-of-your-seat movie—Collin walked out from the path ... with his hand holding the cord that held Berkley.

He should’ve had a red S emblazoned on his chest.

Relief washed over me, and I bent over and cried. Jennifer did too.

Soon, I got it together, gave Collin a high-five, and calmed my breathing while I accompanied that exhausted, four-footed one back home.

Am I the only person that's ever dropped the leash? Or dropped the ball?

Sure, I know the answer ... but still ... Ugh.

Fortunately, I was spared an awful outcome. It could’ve ended differently—I’m so darn grateful it didn’t.

I reminded myself that we all have moments in our lives we wish we could take back.

We all remember things we said or did we wish we could do-over.

Of course, it’s our mistakes that develop our character and continue to grow us day by day.

I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that growth for my children OR for myself.

Our lives can go by in the blink of an eye.

All we ever really have is today.

And every morning is a fresh calling to do a little better than the day before. To embrace whatever adventure awaits.

God only knows how our next scenes will begin and end.

The going’s never easy—no, never—but it’s a pursuit and a race worthy of our everything.

Philippians 3 : 13 Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead,

Psalm 46 : 5 God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at the break of day.

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