Hanah lived in fear. She had separation anxiety way after her destructive stage fled. We would go to the dog park and if she lost sight of me, she became panicked.
She was fearful of unidentified objects, like the newly placed garbage bags that weren’t typically at the neighbor’s house on moving day. She walked WAY around them with hackles up.
I spent many days reassuring her with my love, that she was safe. She loved back.
During a financial crises, I lived in fear too and Hanah loved my fears away. For many years, she helped me through tough days. Together, we fought our fears. We taught each other how to love our way through fear.
My new little husky Mya, refuses to live in fear. In fact, she lives in the moment. Sure she cowers when I find the torn books, the ripped shoes and the piles of paper tossed across the back yard, but that doesn’t stop her. She declines fear.
My car turned the corner and my backyard came into sight. Mya was throwing something white up into the air. White ribbons gracefully float down to the ground. She jumps and bites at each ribbon and does it again. White object in the air, ribbons cascade down. She smiles, tongue swollen and then rolls in the white stuff lining the ground. She jumps to her feet and tosses the white object again.
By this time, I’d realized that I had stopped my car in the middle of the road, watching this display of beauty. She was enjoying the moment—dancing without a care.
My trance broken and still unable to identify what she had, I yelled out of the mouth of the window, ““Mya, what in the world?!”
Mya disappeared into the house.
I parked the car.
Entering the house, Mya is nowhere to be found. I stepped into the backyard to find that this crazy little dog had strung rolls of toilet paper across the yard. Had she taken up ribbon dancing or was she practicing how to TP a place?
I laughed when I should’ve scolded. My heart came undone. I realized that I had been missing Hanah for so long, I was unable to love Mya completely. She isn’t Hanah and she never will be. And that’s okay, because each person or creature that God brings into my life has it’s own uniqueness. Each one teaching me something different and loving in their own way.
Like my friend Michelle, who, through brainstorming blog and book titles, helps me to see life lessons.
Eric, who really teaches me how to hug.
Or Sally, who tells me when my ideas are not so good and is completely honest about it. I need less “yes” people and more friends like her.
Anne, who reminds me, “Breathe, Dawna, just breathe.”
And Buddy, who teaches me, well, just about everything.
Each one placed in my life— beautifully different, never replacing the other.
Hanah loved deeply and we both taught each other that when we love, we can’t fear. Love casts out all fear.
And Mya, this little terror of mine, is teaching me to dance without a care.
I just wish she would teach without using props.