My Dog Is Better at Surrender Than I Am. Learning to drop it, leave it, and trust God.

Maverick has learned two wonderful commands: “Drop it” and “Leave it.”

“Drop it” because, while on our daily walks, he finds everything. Chewed bubble gum (no, he can’t blow bubbles…yet), empty water bottles, kids’ underpants (creeper), mini liquor bottles, potato chip bags, candy bags, and, most recently, a softball he so proudly carried all the way home to show his “dad.”

I let him carry some of his newly found items because, well, he’s so darn proud of them. But the bubble gum and the underpants? Those he must drop immediately. He now does it on command, and then he gets a treat.

Which has become his very own challenge—he will pick up anything, knowing I’ll say, “Maverick, drop it!” And he does. For a reward.

On our walk back home, as we retrace our steps, he spots the item he dropped. I tell him to “leave it”—don’t even touch it—and he listens. Another treat.

As we complete our final stretch home, Maverick isn’t the only one learning. I consider how I respond to God’s commands to drop it and leave it.

When God says, “Dawna, drop it,” I can’t let go. I clutch tighter. I’ve got something good, Lord, and I’m not about to give up this treasure.

I wonder what better “treat” He might have for me and consider playing Deal or No Deal with the Almighty. Could He really have something better for me?

And if I do drop it, I typically pick it back up when I see it again rather than leave it alone. I ponder: Why can’t I be more like Maverick?

Sometimes, when—and if—I drop whatever God is asking me to let go of, I have to wait for His “something better.” I don’t like waiting. And I make the argument that Maverick doesn’t have to wait. He gets immediate rewards.

I’m impatient and I don’t want to build the character that waiting produces.

I also have to trust that God has something better for me. Maverick knows I always have something better for him—a treat and lots of love—except for the time I took a chicken bone from him in exchange for a small dog snack. Not fair, I know.

Maverick knows me, waits on me—even if the wait is only ten seconds while I wrestle a treat from my pocket—and trusts me. Can I say the same about my relationship with God?

I’m learning to be more like Maverick. The process is slow, but I’m seeing more surrender in my own life.

When I’m clutching my own version of a chicken bone and God asks me to relinquish it, I’m learning to believe that what He has for me will far exceed what I’m grasping.

I’m learning and practicing one walk at a time, one day at a time.

Can you drop it, leave it, and trust Him?