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Branched Not Broken


Let’s face it.


With any kind of partner, they bring out a different version of us.


My last love brought out a version of Meg that was not truly me. And my partner wasn't true to his core version either.


We both knew it.


And we tried to make it work. For a long time. Even after the almost “happily ever after”.


But we never got that far. We were

headed


down ...


the wrong aisle.


Fast forward eight months later, and I was out with some girlfriends. One asked how I was doing. A very important question that is not asked enough. I turned to my left, looked her in the eye, and said, “I'm broken.”


And I had believed this for the past eight months. That I was broken.


But this past Thursday, everything was reframed.


You see, my teens and I have a new “puppy”. I say puppy, though Fielder is an 84 lb. yellow/golden lab who has pulled me to the ground in front of two neighbors, scraped my chin to a scab, my knee to blood, and then gently licked both to heal the wounds. He complements our other dog Frankie very well.


So, why am I talking about my dogs?


Because Fielder needs to run free, while Frankie likes to chill.


Because Fielder needs open spaces to explore, while Frankie likes to stay by my side.


I always enjoy watching this paradox play out.


Fielder afoot. Sprinting his little one-year-old heart out. Off he goes.


This Thursday: off he went.


Fielder? I didn't see him anywhere. FIELDER??!!!!


How symbolic of Leader Dogs to name him Fielder and so ironic that he was, indeed, somewhere off in the field. (Clearly he was a reject, I mean "career change".)


I was starting to panic. So I went deeper through the terrain, truly in the thick of it.


My yelling was getting me nowhere. I had to change gears. Calm down, Meg. Dogs can sense feelings.


Calmly. Gently. Quietly “C’mon, boy. Come see mama.


And it worked.


He sprinted towards me and ran in between my legs. Thankfully, not knocking me over this time. (Our choreography is getting better.)


Relief.


Both dogs beside me. And me? No longer beside myself.


So what does any of this have to do with my brokenness?


All because of a tree.


I find my Faith in the Universe these days when I hike with the dogs.


In my relief of Fielder coming back, I looked up to thank God and I saw this stunning piece of Craftsmanship in this one very beautiful, symbolic tree.

And I thought of the Trifecta of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. With me, Frankie, and Fielder. Our own little trifecta. And my children, another trifecta.


Here it is.


One huge trunk, deeply rooted.


Split in half.


To branch out. And out. And out. And out. Endless growth.


So seasonal. Winter here so obviously colorless - exactly how I've felt for so many months. But the colors will return. So symbolic of the Cycle of Life.


I looked up at that tree for a long, long time.



And I realized something: Life didn't break me.


Life

branched

me.



Love and Peace, Meg






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