Soulation | Fledge | Corgi Lessons - Lady Victoria and the Lost Adventure

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Corgi Lessons
Lady Victoria and the Lost Adventure

Before a cross-country speaking trip, we set aside our dog's food bin so we'd remember to take provisions for the corgis. Though the container kept the food sealed and safe, Lady Victoria, stations herself as a guard to protect "her" food from the perceived threat of her mom and sister (Lucy and Jane). She hunkers down and remains glued to the food bin for hours.

In the late afternoon, we looked outside and saw Victoria lying in the sunshine, a panting, stubborn sentry. Meanwhile, Lucy had been enjoying several mice hunting expeditions and Jane had napped the afternoon away on the cool tile inside.

Tired of writing and feeling weary of our laptops, Dale and I revved up our quads for a trip up the mountain. The engines always get the corgis excited so we weren't surprised to see Lucy and Jane running to follow us on our offroading adventure. From the trail we called and coaxed Victoria to join the pack, but she refused to leave her precious supply of food.

Up the mountain trail we climbed, Jane trailing our exhaust, Lucy trying to keep up. At one spectacular view I stopped and looked back. Our two dogs were smiling the way corgis do, delighted to be on an adventure. I said to Dale, "Poor Victoria, she's missing out!"

A prisoner of her selfishness, wanting all the food for herself? Perhaps. A prisoner of fear that someone will eat the food she needs and wants? Definitely. She didn't get to enjoy the new Black-eyed Susans in bloom or the challenge of following an ATV up a trail; she missed the elk sign, the coyote tracks and a thousand other new smells.

She shackled herself to protect a secure food bin, while we had fun.

I often act like Victoria, concerned to protect things, to build connections, to impress contacts that only God can protect or build or impress. One evening, Dale and I attended a high profile business dinner. I kept whipping out my diplomatic skills to make the most of the guests on either side of me, to smile at those across from me, to wiggle away from a conversation to introduce myself to someone else, to make the best impression I could. Dale, on the other hand, began pouring himself into an unimportant-looking neighbor on his right and spoke exclusively with him the entire night. I simmered with annoyance that his night would be wasted on someone who probably wasn't as well-connected as the people I was craning my head to meet.

Years later, I look back and see that all the people I met were not as significant to our work as the man Dale devoted his time to that evening. The unimportant-looking person was indeed very important.

My hard work signified only one thing: fear that we'd miss an opportunity unless I stood sentry over something God held capably in his hands. I missed out on a riveting discussion and the beginnings of a good friendship.

The Psalmist says, "Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman keeps awake in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to retire late, to eat the bread of painful labors; for He gives to His beloved even in his sleep" (Psalm 127: 1-3).

He gives sun-toasted seed to the birds of the field, emerald green raiment for the lilies and all the contacts to smooth our way, volunteer their time, donate their resources—while I sleep. He even provides food for little Lady Victoria. If she could only realize her provision remains secure, that God will not slumber or sleep, she could loosen the chains and skip out looking for the next adventure.