Bending the Knee to a Pit Bull

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Seda and I are barreling down the trail full speed with Leo in tow when we see a pit bull top the ridge ahead. He pauses to take us in, looks over his shoulder, then decides to make a run for it our way.

There's enough distance between us that I can see the dog picking up speed, lengthening his stride. His people top the ridge as he tries unsuccessfully to hit the brakes, tongue lolling, looking to play.

Leo doesn't like to play. But this guy is young and clueless to the signs. Seda grabs Leo by the collar with her one fully functioning arm. I dive between the dogs, redirecting the happy pit bull's face away from Leo's. His exuberance strikes my open palms as I send him to the side. My knee goes with.

Oof. The pit moves around behind Leo for a free sniff while his owner approaches, out of breath. He reaches for his dog and hauls him to the side so we can pass.

But I can't get up. I sit for some time, integrating the pain, waving them on. Eventually, I rise. Slowly. Tentatively.

I make it down the hillside and that night scare myself by collapsing in pain here and there, grasping for anything around me as I fall. Countertops, a beaded curtain, a dresser. I turn on a nightlight to remind myself that I'm injured, so I don't crash at midnight on my way to the loo. I can walk some. Just not reliably.

It's a funny thing to have happen now. Seda and I are a week and a half into an online course on Abundance with Dr. Joe Dispenza. She's down a shoulder, and now I'm down a knee. It's a good thing we've got our sites set on the wonder of divine abundance. Our earthly situation has a ways to catch up. Or does it?

I have a choice now. Will I doubt myself and decide I've done something wrong to warrant this? Or will I lock eyes with Abundance and recognize every bit of it that comes my way?

I opt for the second. Otherwise, I'd sit down and cry. There's far too much to do. I'm launching a series. I have a new team member to train. There's dinner to cook.

And frankly, there's no absence of abundance. I have no reason at the moment to overlook this. It would be reckless to.

Julie Staub, our hero of a physical therapist, fits me in after Seda's appointment the day after my fall. Our son Sam comes to help with the weed whacking and to get Leo's toy off the roof (Seda's lefty throw). We somehow manage to walk the dog (Seda) and cook enough to make it through. Thank God for what we've stockpiled in the freezer. And for trek poles.

Every day, I set my sites on abundance at dawn. I call up that blissful feeling and float there till I fall asleep at the end of the day. Amidst uncertainty, we bob along, thanking Source, thanking Love, thanking God for each other.

You know there's more to this story.

When has abundance come to you in unexpected ways and how did you keep your eyes on the prize?