Dolly’s leash is made of woven nylon, colored blue gray, and roughly 6 feet long. When we are walking, this is her lifeline. When a car approaches, or we walk by another dog, I grip the middle of the leash and keep her close at my side as far away from any harm as I can.
Now Dolly is not one of those trained to heal kind of dogs. She is more of a pull as far as I can on the leash until I am strained in my breathing kind of dogs. I don’t know that I can properly put into writing the sound she makes when she’s straining as she does, but its something like “hecccchhh, heccchhh, heccchhhh”.
So, this leash is her lifeline. Yet she wants more. If I were to let her go. Unleash her. She’d most likely take off (probably eventually come back when called) on some sort of dog adventure, maybe get struck by a car, beat up by a dog, eat a dead animal, or just simply have a blast until she decided to come back.
Freedom. Running care free. Running wreckless. Are there too many leashes in this world? Things which constrain us? Even things which keep us restrained from harm? Society has its fair share of leash needs. They are there to keep order. Parenting surely has its fair share of leash needs. But they are there to protect, coach and guide our kids to be unleashed. Faith has its fair share of leash requirements. But they are there to protect coach and guide ourselves to be unleashed.
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