It was early.  The chill of the mountain’s coming night hung over camp as I unleashed our Beagle, Honeybee, and headed up trail, planning to await the sunset.  It was August, and beautiful.

Honeybee steadily traversed the hillside, yet stayed fairly close, until the summit.  There, while I stood transfixed in the splendor of evening moments, she lost interest.  Placing her snoopy nose to the ground, Honeybee sniffed her way furiously about the mountainside and on over the ridge.  Then, when it was time to return to camp she did not respond to my call.

All the way down the mountain I whistled, called her name and waited at numerous points.  No Honeybee.  Choosing a sunny knoll, I sat contemplating her plight.  How long would she last in the forest should her rapturous pursuit of prey carry her across several ridges and miles away?  Thoughts of leaving the mountains, where we were visiting friends at their cabin, were not pleasant.  Finally, there was anger that “the mutt was not any smarter than this!”

Slowly, I gave up hope of her coming and began walking back.  Dismaying visions of her eventual demise, like stormy clouds hung in stubbornly.  She could have lived out her days with every need met, love lavished upon her, enjoying many “fireside hours.”  But, no!  She had chosen to follow her natural bent, disregarding my call, chasing off into the wilderness, in the opposite direction of protection. 

On the trek back, I thought of the Father, who created us with plans for our fellowshipping together.  What glorious days of enrichment would be in store could we but walk close, be obedient, savoring the sound of His voice.  Is not this what King David was talking about in the 27th Psalm?  “One thing I ask; this I seek:  to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, that I may gaze on the loveliness of the Lord . . .”  Yet, after knowing the joyous pleasure of abiding with his Creator, David, too, wandered away, satisfying his cravings.

In the 51st Psalm we see his lament:  “A clean heart create for me, O God, and a steadfast spirit renew within me.  Cast me not out from your presence, and your Holy Spirit take not from me.  Give me back the joy of your salvation and a willing spirit sustain in me.” He had found his way back to the Father’s house.

There are many ways in which we “run over the ridge,” one of which is that of chasing after the idolatry of having our own way.  “Let go and let God,” is like a medicinal dose to the human mind.  Hard on the palate.  The call of the wild we so often follow goes like this:  “He will wait; He will forgive … I must explore this morsel of excitement.”  But, oh, the bitterness of tears at the pulling of “cockleburs and porcupine quills” acquired on philandering.  

Some, while engaging in such wanderings, fall into the hands of cruel taskmasters, meeting with deep wounds—ragged brokenness.  Escaping, finding the Father once again, clearly offered another chance.  “At-one-ment” restored, brings health and trust. Oh, to be so blessed.

Much can be said for the good life of staying close, luxuriating in nurturing love, abiding in the smile of a Father who holds endless plans to enrich and fulfill.  Great freedom is granted by this One who makes eminent efforts to make known the sound of His voice.  He is a Father loving enough to grant the costly gift of free will.  No “leashes.”  Random freedom of choice.  All in the face of certainty that He could lose.

Thoughts of such love pervaded as I wandered toward camp that day.  Coming into a clearing where the cabin could be seen, who ran to greet me but Honeybee!  Dancing and switching her little body about as if she had no bones, true oblivion was portrayed.  She couldn’t imagine that I might be mad—but this master does not possess perfection, instead encounters fears.  Fears which trigger anger.  Still, joy overrode even these stubborn feelings as I was flooded with happy relief, I had not lost this beloved one.

Some stern counsel was in order. But after that we walked together on into camp delighting once again in the pleasure of one another’s company. 

~~ Now, with an enliven glimpse of the Father’s heart~~

Joy Le Page Smith can be contacted by email: Joy@healing-with-joy.com

 Published in Today’s Herald-News, Nov. 15, 2019