I placed a new bed pad that I had made into Snoopey’s crate. I am not an expert seamstress or dog bed designer so it puffs up high on the ends. I thought she might like that for an extra head rest and she does when she sleeps. The only problem shows up when it’s time to come out of the crate. I open the door and she hesitates, lifting one paw high, tapping the air with it, unsure that she can make that first step.
Eventually she does. She steps over the threshold and onto the old familiar solid floor. There was really no choice. Outside the crate is freedom and fresh air. And the bathroom. Going back into the crate doesn’t hold the same challenge for her though. Same crate, same pad, same puffy end, different attitude. Maybe it’s just easier to overcome obstacles when you want to go to bed.
That first step out is the crucial one. Without it, nothing else follows. She doubted her footing because the situation was new and she had to step a little bit higher than she was used to doing. Once she summoned the courage and took that step, the whole world opened up.
First steps can scare you. What if I take this step and fall flat on my face? Won’t that be embarrassing? Won’t that hurt? What if I get a bloody nose?
What if we sit in a crate all of our lives? What if we let that first step stymie us into never trying at all? We may have to pick our feet up higher and deliberately plant our steps on the ground outside our safe zone. By and large, the ground will be solid enough to support us.
And what if we do fall flat on our faces and bloody our noses? Wash it off and get an ice pack. Then take another step.
“For Thou hast delivered my soul from death: wilt not Thou deliver my feet from falling, that I may walk before God in the light of the living. Psalm 56:13 KJV
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