I took my sunset-colored Golden Retriever to the park today, one we’ve never been to before. The weather has been unusually beautiful in Houston; and I felt like doing something different, so I let Lady in on my celebration of the day’s beauty.

We broke out of our normal routine, which seemed appropriate for the day. I let her lead. She could sniff whatever she wanted, explore wherever she chose, and blaze a new trail, if that made her happy.

For the most part, it was great. I just wasn’t expecting her to discover a lake. Nor was I expecting her response to it. With the vigor of a child entering Toys-R-Us, she took off running, with me on the other end of the leash, holding on by my fingernails. I could’ve stopped her. I weigh more. Surely I would be justified in calling things to a halt, right? She’d had her time of independence and exploration. I had even let her lead, for heaven’s sake. Besides, my upholstery had just been Armor-All’d, and I didn’t have a towel, and the banks of the lake were really muddy, and maybe there were even snakes in it, and…blah, blah, blah.

I let go of the leash and cheered her on as she dived into the water. It was pure elation. She splashed, looked back at me, splashed some more, went for a swim, then plopped herself down on the muddy bank, with the look of a self-satisfied Olympian. It was quite a day. One I won’t let slip from my memory for a long time.

Sometimes, reflecting back on something makes it even more valuable than living it. Its significance somehow increases with our pondering. We suddenly realize its “unordinariness,” though it seemed meaningless when we were living it. Thanks to Marcus Borg and the Fifth Century Celtic Christians, I’ve learned such experiences could be called “thin places.” A thin place is where the veil between heaven and earth momentarily lifts, and we behold God. It’s anywhere are hearts are opened, and we experience “the earth filled with the glory of God.”

Watching Lady swim was a thin place for me today. I saw that I’ve mellowed lately, and it’s not just because I’m getting older. It’s because God is helping me let go of so many things I thought I could never part with. Today, I saw that I have let go of my own leash. A leash God never put on me. A set of restrictions he never intended. A list of limitations that defies the purpose of Jesus’ life. So why did I live so long on an unnecessary chain? Because it was safe. It was predictable. And it was very familiar.

But my leash is gone now. Just as letting go of Lady’s leash allowed her to dive, explore, venture, and experience, I’ve been liberated to dance around some new banks of water myself. Some have been muddy, and some have been clean. But all have been a necessary part of my freedom.

At the end of our beautiful-day-in-Houston celebration, I had a huge mess to clean up. Muddy paw prints all over the car, a puddle of water on the floorboard, slobber on the dashboard. But it was so worth it for one thing - the look of joy on Lady’s face. It’s engraved on my mind. I can’t help but think that my response is not too disimilar from God’s when he sees us checking things out, searching for truth, and totally experiencing life.

And the messy consequences of our explorations? Ah well, if we’ve truly broken free from the leash, I think we can leave even that to God.