The Courage to Be Amazed

Today, Chonkie and I took a little adventure.

Well...maybe "little" isn't the right word.

It involved a two-hour drive, a ferry ride, and a trip into the big city to meet with an orthopedic surgeon about his torn ACL.

If you know Chonkie, you'll understand why this was a big day.

He's a seventy-three-pound pit bull who believes he's much smaller than he is. Loud noises make him jump. New places make him cautious. Quick movements, strange sounds, unfamiliar people...they're all a lot for my sweet boy.

As we drove, I found myself wondering how he was doing.

Was he hurting?

Was he nervous?

Was he overwhelmed?

By the time we arrived at the veterinary hospital, I knew he was all three.

But then I noticed something that completely changed the way I saw the day.

Everywhere we went...

Chonkie was filled with wonder.

The patch of grass outside the parking lot.

Amazing.

The tree he absolutely had to sniff before he could possibly continue.

Fascinating.

The receptionist.

Obviously his new best friend.

The veterinary technician.

Wonderful.

Every new smell.

Every doorway.

Every tiny patch of landscaping.

It was all worthy of investigation.

It was all...

Interesting.

Yes, he was afraid.

But his fear hadn't stolen his sense of awe.

I don't know why that surprised me.

Maybe because, if I'm honest, fear often steals mine.

When I'm worried, I stop noticing.

I focus on solving.

Planning.

Preparing.

Protecting.

I become so busy looking for what could go wrong that I stop seeing what's beautifully right in front of me.

Chonkie doesn't seem to do that.

He can be frightened...

And curious.

Uncertain...

And open-hearted.

Tender...

And adventurous.

Those things don't cancel each other out.

As I watched him greeting one new experience after another, I realized something.

I had always thought courage meant not being afraid.

Chonkie showed me another possibility.

Maybe courage is remaining open to wonder even while we're afraid.

Maybe awe isn't something we experience only when life feels safe.

Maybe awe is what helps carry us through the unfamiliar.

By the time we boarded the ferry to come home, I wasn't thinking about surgery anymore.

I was thinking about a dog who had spent the day reminding me that the world is still full of things worth noticing.

Even on hard days.

Especially on hard days.

What if we all lived a little more like Chonkie?

What if, even when life feels uncertain, we paused to admire the tree...

Smile at the receptionist...

Notice the softness of the grass beneath our feet...

Or simply breathe in the miracle of being alive for one more ordinary day?

Perhaps awe isn't the absence of fear.

Perhaps it's love quietly refusing to let fear become the whole story.

You May Be Wondering...

How can my animal companion help me through difficult seasons?

Sometimes they don't teach us by trying to change us. Sometimes they simply live so authentically that we begin to notice another way of being. When we slow down and truly observe them, our animal companions often remind us of qualities we've forgotten within ourselves—curiosity, resilience, joy, patience...or, in Chonkie's case, the quiet courage to remain amazed.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.