I’m sure that one of the very few advantages of ageing is an increasing acceptance that not everything is within your control. So you learn to focus your energy on the things you can control, and accept some of the things you can’t. I believe they call this grace.
Accepting that you can’t control something doesn’t mean you have to like it. It just means you accept that it is what it is. And you are where you are. And there’s something about the wisdom of the years that makes this somewhat easier to manage.
I believe this is true even when you really want a different outcome. When you are very clear on what you want but just can’t have it right now. And when the things that matter most to you are taken away, sometimes through no fault of your own.
Six days ago my loyal, trusty best beagle friend TJ toddled off down the drive on an excellent adventure. At the farm. Where he loved to be. And he hasn’t been seen since.
I assume that he’s somewhere out there on the 1,200 acres that comprise our property, or somewhere nearby. And given he’s old and in poor health and it was stupidly hot and humid when he left, I’m pretty sure I’ll never see him alive again. Not because I don’t want to, but simply because the laws of probability are stacked against us. And because finding a small grey and tan and white dog on a property like ours is like finding a needle in a haystack.
I’ll continue to look for him every day and call out and hope that I’m wrong, because I really want to have one more day in the office with him lying by my desk. One more cuddle. One more walk.
If you’re so inclined, please wish upon a star tonight that my little buddy will find his way home. It’s surely not impossible.
But in case it doesn’t happen, I will accept it was his right to have one final run in the fields that he loved. And that’s how I’ll always remember him.
Yours in hope, with a hint of acceptance,