My Great Pyrenees Molly & Maycee – Letting Go And Letting In
When my twin daughters were on their way, my mother-in-law at the time told me that loving the new daughters would be done in a special way–not replacing the daughter I had, but making way a new space in my heart for the new babies. This weekend has been something of the same exercise with the addition of a new Great Pyrenees puppy into our family.
But I’m struggling with letting go and letting in.
For much of the past four years plus now, life has been a series of painful events. I won’t go into the litany of transgressions that have been cast against me, but there admittedly have been times when I wished God would have just let me go home. But such thoughts immediately were countered with the reminder that I have three daughters who very much need me in their lives and will for years to come.
My Dog Molly was taken from me in March 2010 through the manipulations of some very dishonest and mean people. I never got the chance to say goodbye. She was just gone. A dog like I’d never had before, one I’d longed for all my days, was up and out of my life.
There’s been a wound in my heart about this most every day since.
Thursday as Chandler and I found ourselves driving south on Interstate 35 to Caldwell, Texas to pick up our new 9-week-old Great Pyr, I was relieved in several ways that the drive was shaping out to be 3.5 hours in length. With each mile we moved southward came a little more ease in my mind that this was in God’s plan or it wouldn’t be happening. Too many things came to be on Thursday saying “Get down there and get this new dog! –God.”
I’ve talked before about when God has said “NO!” in my life and He meant it. The message in those minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years, was a firm, NO! Countless times this has been the case. (My search for my dear friend Julie off and on throughout the years, just to find out whatever happened to her in large part, is an example. God said no in middle and high school. He moved me clear to the other side of the country for most of my young adult years. Then to Texas. Through bad and hard times. When things got bad, I’d cast an eye back in her direction in California via the Internet and she was no where to be found. That is until 16 months ago today. But that’s another story.)
When Chandler and I arrived at the home of the people with the Great Pyrenees, a peace came upon me. And doing a good job to choke back tears, I said what you’ve read above. It was hard being there; but a hole in my heart was being fulfilled by this new dog.
The lady said, “And no matter how this dog turns out, there never will be another Molly.”
My last three dogs have all had names beginning with the letter M. I don’t know why. They just have.
Getting back home with Maycee proved to be quite an ordeal. About 20 miles from where we got her, the car died. Right in the middle of Rosebud, Texas. We got it towed to Waco by the most curious of characters. He was one of the most kind, at ease and understanding men I’ve ever met. (Three hours later when we got home, he even called to ensure we’d arrived safely.) We got the car dropped off and he took us over to a restaurant where he knew the manager and they had an outside eating area. Before long we were sitting at their tables and our waitress was loving on the dog. My friend and mentor, Ron Rose, drove down from north of Fort Worth to get us and drive us home since the car was dead.
Throughout it all, Maycee was calm, peaceful and slept.
Upon our return home, we’ve come to spend several hours this weekend between work, sleep and eating tending to our new baby.
There are times I call on her and hope to see the spirit of Molly. I have to let that go. But admittedly, it’s been hard.
The exterior of the two is near identical. The temperament and heart is different. Like for all of us in some respects.
On this Sunday eve, I can honestly say I’ve still not been able to let go of Molly, but I have been letting in, Maycee.
Yesterday, Chandler left the apartment for the first time and Maycee was running free. When Chan went out the front door, Maycee ran into her room to look out the window. I heard the blinds moving. Now how does a dog that’s been here less than 48 hours know to do that when it’s just nine-weeks old?!
I’ve slept better the past two nights as well. The past several months have been spent tossing and turning at night. When I’ve gotten up and worked, my focus has been sharper. Internally, I feel much more at peace than I did Wednesday, or much of the way south Thursday. Come to that, much of the way north without my car.
I don’t know what the meaning of all this is. God is clearly at work and I have come to learn that he’s driving the bus of life, not me. A good weeping session may still in the offering over Molly; tears that no doubt will be absorbed by Maycee as she licks my face like I’ve got cap nip on it and she’s a long tail cat.
Life has brought so many loving and good people and pets in and out of it. Why can’t it eliminate the liars, manipulators, abusers and addicts and free up some space for good? Too many have been hurt because of them these past four or five years. And there’s no doubt more to come….
But I have a hole in my heart that’s healing in a new way. She’s called Maycee. I’m thinking A. Maycee Grace … because that’s truly what God has brought into my world as chaos rains down all around still. Onward….