May I do Thy Will Always! (prayer)

I haven’t been all that successful in increasing my prayer life. The attention that I’m giving it is more than ever before, and I know that must be good. Memorizing new prayers still seems to me to be the way to go. But I haven’t memorized any, though I’ve been working with a few of them a bit. Surely if I stuck to one, I’d have it down and then some by now. But I’ve added “prayer” to the list of things I do daily, if I have the time, or in proportion to other things I do, like walking the dog or scooping the litter.

The dog and the prayer came together for me today. It’s a long story, and a sad story, and it involves one of the worst things I’ve experienced in sobriety. I’m not up to writing that story yet, but a dog I had raised from when she was eight weeks old was killed by other dogs while I was walking her. The way it plays out today is that I have a wonderful, lovely, loving dog, Xandra. The issues of my past impact me today with her. The issues of her past do the same, although I can only guess and imagine what they are. I got her from a shelter with very little information.

I know there isn’t anyone who wouldn’t understand that I have problems with dog aggression today. Part of me that I need to get more in balance is the part that wants just the most incredibly optimum life for this creature I’ve taken responsibility for. I know she’s a substitute and a target for all the angst I feel over my growing, young adult children. It’s a phenomenon that empty nesters acquire pets as the kids leave. That’s fine with me and I think it works out in all cases.

But my reality is that I cannot provide the absolute best environment on the planet for my pets. Or my kids. It was important to me on a spiritual level that I “rescue” a dog whose chances without me were not good. God (or chance) gave me Xandra, who was actually dying on the floor of the kill shelter. She was four years old (approximately), unspayed, filthy, with awful teeth. She was a big black dog, the kind who find it most difficult to find a home. We took her home after they spayed her and she laid on the floor and didn’t move. Two thousand dollars later she was cured of a pneumonia which surely would have killed her had she stayed at the shelter. We didn’t know her, but we spent the money to treat her. The shelter would have done so for free, but the vet there told us not to bring her there if we didn’t have to. She said her chances of recovering there were not good.

This is her as she began to recover from the pneumonia. You can see where she was spayed, and where her leg was shaved for the IVs.

So this has gotten long, and not on topic. I had a bad experience this morning in the dog park during which I chickened out and left quickly. I struggle daily, but more so today, with what I expect from myself regarding this creature and what is too much to ask of either of us. I also struggle to accept things the way they are, which is not the best of everything money can buy coupled with intelligence and good intentions. It just isn’t.

So praying was on the schedule for when I got home. I clicked on the prayer category here and the last prayer I dealt with here came up:

God, I offer myself to Thee - to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life. May I do Thy will always!

alcoholics anonymous – big book – third step prayer – 1939

World Prayers

Throughout my ordeal I did not think of praying. Nope, not once. I reached out to Carole and Edith by phone, and that helped a bit, though Carole made me feel a bit worse by offering to do what she can, and by offering to accompany us to the dog park when she gets home tomorrow. Carole already accompanies me all the time to the dog park and on walks. She actually tamed Xandra to walk on a Gentle Leader so that I would have a chance to walk her peacefully. Even with almost a year of her extensive help, I fail.

So, the prayer. The bondage of self. I see it’s all about me, my dog, my trauma, my desires for a certain kind of life with this dog. Right now I’m wondering – how much do I try to let the people and the program and the prayers lift me up? Is it necessary to touch the bottom sometimes, and to stay there for a little while, sometimes?