Are You There For Me?

The Best Path for Growth is Found in the Pause

A few days ago Burton, my 14-year-old dog and I went on a hike in the woods. It was a monumental hike because neither of us had been in the woods for months. Burton is recuperating from surgery and I am recovering from an injury. As we reached the trailhead, Burton excitedly jetted ahead of me smelling and exploring his surroundings. He only paused every so often to look back. His look communicated, “Are you there for me?” As soon as he made eye contact, he happily began exploring again.

Burton is deaf and cannot hear me, so he reads my expressions and hand gestures. When Burton would take a wrong turn, one of us had to double back and make small corrections along the path and I would quietly point him back to a place he could cross to get to me. The terrain is rugged with steep inclines, thistles, and thick brush—especially when off the dirt path.

Toward the end of our hike, we found ourselves on a narrow path on top of a steep incline. Burton’s legs did not hold him stable along the edge and he lost his balance and rolled into a ravine. At the bottom of the ravine, his collar got stuck on the thistly branches. Burton was trapped and was scared. His look at me asked: “Are you here for me?” I needed to get down into the ravine to help him up, but I also knew that much effort could exacerbate my own injury. We both might not be able to make it back up the steep bank. I looked at Burton and firmly signaled “stop!”

We needed to take a moment to calm down and not hurt ourselves in haste. I also needed to think about how to get my dog back to safety while remaining safe myself. Within seconds, which seemed like minutes, Burton was able to free himself from the entanglement and start his way up the incline. With the first attempt, he made it three-quarters of the way up, then on another try he only made it half-way. Each time he rolled back down into the thistly ravine. I cautiously sat on the edge of the cliff with my feet dangling over the side. When Burton tried a third time he was able to make it to where I could just barely catch his collar and provide him the stability to make it back up to the top. He waited for me to stand up and regain my hiking composure, then began his journey on the path again.

We made our way back to the neck of the trail. Burton looked at me sheepishly, with his head lowered, as he does when he knows he has done something wrong. I motioned him over, and he slowly inched my way with his head down. It was then that I noticed that he was shaking. I knelt down and wrapped my arms around him and held him until he pulled away. I decided in my early years as
a parent to hug my children until they let go. Today, I did the same with Burton. Burton walked slightly ahead of me and looked back to see if I was with him. He was no longer shaking.

This experience reminded me of parenting relationships. Our kids will explore, and they will look back to see if we are there for them. We are their safe foundation, their protector, their cheerleader. There will be times when our kids get ahead of themselves or take the wrong path. There will be times when our kids fall down, and we impulsively want to rush to pick them up. This may be where we need to pause and consider their capability instead of intervening with their rescue. If our connection with them is based on love, it will be a safety net and allow
them the freedom to explore their world. In time, it is this connection that will also bring them back to us more willing to listen and trust us.

Dr. Sonya Rodriguez is driven by a passion to share the “Awe and Aha’s” that nature bestows upon us. She is available for in-home family intensives, in parks, walk and talks, wilderness excursions, and travel with intention.