I’ve always been amused at the sight
of dogs traveling in cars. I mean the
ones who stick their heads out the window and feel the rush of the wind on
their faces—especially the ones with long floppy ears blowing in the
breeze. They look like they’re ready to
take-off and be air-borne. (They remind
me of Sr. Bertrille, a/k/a “The Flying Nun”, from the 60s television show “The
Flying Nun” starring a young Sally Field.
For those too young to recall, Sr. Bertrille could fly when the wind was
strong enough—which was every episode—due to her light weight and the
aero-dynamic shape of the head-gear that was part of the nun’s habit. Ludicrous, yes, but entertaining
nonetheless.)
Anyway, I recently was driving near
Elmira College when I saw a dog in a baby carriage. This was not a small dog. This was a full size black lab, who could
barely fit in the baby carriage. In
fact, most of the dog was visible from my driver’s seat with only the posterior
of the dog hidden from view. The dog was
sitting, looking most uncomfortable, which made me wonder why such a large dog
was in a baby carriage?
I didn’t stop to ask, but the unusual
sight stayed with me. Maybe the dog was
injured and was getting a free ride?
Maybe the dog was the jealous type and wanted the attention babies get
in baby carriages? Who knows?
I did, however, finally arrived at an
explanation that seems logical to me.
Perhaps the dog rode in the carriage as a puppy and for some reason
liked the experience. Regardless of
continued growth (that must have made the experience physically uncomfortable)
the dog still had fond memories of time spent in the baby carriage and wanted
to continue those memories. Who
knows?—but it’s as good an explanation as any.
Actually humans do something similar
all the time. We keep (and wear)
T-shirts or sweat-shirts from a memorable time (vacation or college) even
though they are no longer in good condition and we’ve (literally) out-grown them. We hold on to other possessions from a
meaningful time even though they are no longer useful. We ring bells at the consecration of the Mass
because the sound brings us comfort even though the reason for the bells no
longer exists (when the Mass was in Latin people needed a signal to let them
know what was going on during the Mass; in English people can follow and need
no such signal).
None of that is necessarily bad, of
course. Memories are important. They can bring comfort to us, recalling pleasant
times or meaningful experiences or noteworthy accomplishments.
However, while the past is very much a
part of us, it’s not healthy (or holy) to live in the past. The past has shaped us, has brought us to the
present and the way we respond to the present will affect our future. The future can never recapture the past. We can’t go back, only forward.
Sometimes
we have trouble letting go of the past and adjusting to or accepting the
present, which, in our estimation may not be as good as the past. The “good old days” is a pretty common
expression and oftentimes accurate. The
world does seem to get more and more complicated, the gulf between haves and
have-nots seems to widen more and more with the passage of time, humans seem to
rely more and more on themselves and less and less on God. Maybe the good old days were better in some
ways.
But
we still can’t go back. Only
forward. God is still ever-present to
those who seek God, calling us forward to a deeper life of prayer and the
sacraments. We can still choose God over
the ways of the world. Every day we can
make that choice. And I hope most of us
can say that our relationship with God is better today than in the past because
of time and experience. And the future
can be even better if we let it be because God wants to reveal more and more of
Himself to us.
Let’s
be grateful for the good old days, but not lament the present or fear the
future. God is calling us into deeper
relationship with Him and that can only be good for us.
Have
a blessed week . . .
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