Walks With P

I rarely take the bus anymore, but I do walk my dog, P, at least twice a day, which can be just as rewarding. P is friendly, even for a dog. And it was through P that I met Adam and Sara. Adam and Sara are young siblings who walk by my house on their way to elementary school every morning. When they first saw P, Sarah was visibly afraid to pass by us on the sidewalk where P and stopped to sniff in the nearby grass. In fear, Sara didn't have the focus or faith to hear me say that P was harmless. So all I could do was ask P to sit, and then watch as Adam, in perfect kindness and chivalry, took Sara's hand on the sidewalk and said, "Don't worry, that's a good dog. Hear her? That's a good dog."

But really, even Adam looked nervous and he held Sara's hand until they had passed by and were a good distance away.

I wondered after whether even Adam had believed me about P - that she was good and wasn't going to hurt them? It didn't seem like he was convinced, so I wondered what made him so brave? Was it loving his sister and wanting to comfort her that brought out the best in him? Was it the practicalities of a narrow sidewalk and a pending school bell? Was it something a parent had taught him once when he was afraid of a canine on the street? Why did he act in faith, when he didn't know what would happen?

Almost a year later, P and Sara are now fast friends. She knows all P's commands and tricks and will shout "hello" even from down the block if we haven't directly run into one another during their commute and P's morning walk. I'm glad the kids were courageous that day because its fun to visit with them in the mornings now.

But I do want to know the secret ingredient to that faith that overcomes fear. Why is it sometimes present and sometimes missing? Why do we "lack the ante to gamble for real love" some days? To play all-out? Or why we're sometimes sure it's a bad dog, even when it's a "good dog"? Perhaps the question is too simple for a complex world, but the children's bravery was beautiful nonetheless.