Putting my dog down felt like excising a good portion of my past. For the longest time, it was my daughter and me and my two pups around the kitchen table, homeschooling and living and laughing and crying and wishing this moment in time would get over itself already and move on.
And then it did.
And now I’m thirty-eight, my dogs are dead, and my daughter is at school. And Jesus is saying, “It’s time.”
Time for what?
Death always brings new life. And as beautiful as that is, how painful too. Because you can see the future and know that there will be things you loved that won’t be walking with you.
But I suppose peace is knowing where those things are, in the Creator’s hands. I suppose there’s just as much grief in knowing how little I control as there is in anything else.
But also, what a relief.
It’s been a hard week, but a blessed one. I’ve had friends reach out, spend time with me. I have my husband and my daughter who know my history, my past, because they share it too.
And here we stand on the cusp of something different. May God alone guide our weary hearts.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
– Romans 8:28
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Ericka Clay 
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