Untethered

Photo by Anna Kolosyuk on Unsplash

I found one of Fluffy's "chains" under the seat of the car the other day. Blue plastic with a clip and a retractable cord. "Fluffy" written in Sharpie. Most people call it a leash but for some reason we went with chain. Back when he was spry we would ask him if he wanted to go for a walk and he would commence dancing. For a while we could spell it out w-a-l-k but he was way smarter than us and figured it out right quick. Maybe that's because we didn't spell anything else so "walk" was set apart that way. We kept his chain on the low shelf of an end table in the family room. Hubby taught him lots of tricks, rolling over, playing ball... he also taught him to get his chain when it was time for a walk. He would sit down on the foot stool and start putting his shoes on - another clue to the brilliant pup that a w-a-l-k might be happening. The he would say, "Go get your chain." Already beside himself, Fluff would run back and forth to the end table a few times and then drag it off the shelf with his teeth and deposit it at Hubby's now shoe-clad feet. The chain was about as heavy as Fluffy himself so it was funny to watch him wrangle it across the rug, but wrangle he did. And as excited as he was, he would always sit still enough to clip the cord to his collar before dashing for the door. That chain was his tether, he could run on up ahead but sooner or later the cord would run out and he got stopped short. It was for his protection, really, to keep him from going too far afield, to keep him from going after a big dog or cat or squirrel - any of which could have taken him down lickety-split. But he was fearless like that so we kept him on his chain so he wouldn't get hurt. A good tethering.

Interesting word, tether. According to Wikipedia, a tether is a cord, fixture, or flexible attachment that anchors something movable to a reference point which may be fixed or moving. We were Fluffy's reference point on our walks. He came and went out from his human-anchors. I have/had some tethers in my life. Some strong and permanent like three stranded cords, some just strings and yarn. Beatrice (emphasis on the "at") being the strongest for the longest. I remember when she died, I felt like I was un-tethered - bobbing along without her constant presence. Cut loose from my moorings and adrift. Orphaned. I've talked with so many adults who express the same thing at the passing of parents. I am an old woman - strike that - I'm a seasoned woman... how can I be an orphan? I had a virtual chat with one of my cousins not long ago when we lamented the fact that we are now the generation of grown-ups in our family. And what a sad lot we are... nary a one of us can make MawMaw's Brunswick stew worth a lick. I was afraid to eat it when I was little because my uncles told me it had rattlesnake and skunk and I don't know what all in it. It was most likely a combination of beef, pork and chicken but now we'll never know - for we're all that's left and we're about useless. Our connection so thin anymore we're barely strung together. Thank God for The Facebook so we can keep up a little. This tether, tenuous at best, holding us back there in the good old days by a thread, Brunswick stew notwithstanding. Bound by tastebuds and Polaroids. A sweet-memory tethering.

A tether can also keep you attached to something that holds you back from being who you're meant to be. A clinging to something that keeps you stuck in a figurative place. Immobilizing like a straitjacket. Pain, fear, anger, bitterness, regret.... all the way to abuse and violence. One of the saddest things to me is when people tie their dogs up to a tree and leave them out in all kinds of weather - even hurricanes. I just don't see how anybody could do something so heartless. But what about the people who feel like they've been left out in the storm... chained up? Stuck and paralyzed. But do I even bat an eye? Or shed a tear? I remember a few years ago I was driving to work and noticed a homeless man waiting at the corner up ahead. He had a cardboard sign asking for help. I counted cars and realized I would probably get stuck at the red light right beside him. I'm ashamed to admit that I usually become engrossed in finding a radio station in these situations. Anything to keep from making eye-contact. That morning, for some reason, I couldn't look away. I didn't have any cash in my purse... not even change. I had no answer to his request for help. I had nothing to offer. But I saw him. Really saw him. So I looked him straight in the eye and didn't turn away. I offered a smile and mouthed, "Good morning." Tears welled up and rolled down his weather-reddened cheeks. Quickly matched by those trailing down my Clinique-reddened ones. I rolled down the window and he moved toward me. "I don't have any money," I said. "That's alright," he said and we both started grinning - and crying - just looking at one another at the corner of 17th and Dawson. The light turned, we exchanged a wave and off I went. A human-tethering.

It was true I didn't have any money on me... but I had a little plastic card that gave me access to money. And there was a drug store just around the block. So I spun around, got a gift card and pulled back up at his corner. This time, I stuck my arm out and handed him a little help. I told him they had all kinds of things at that store... food, toiletries, socks... and his eyes lit up. "Socks! Yes!" He shook my hand, the light turned and off I went again. I watched in the rear view as he folded up his sign and went shopping. I knew there was a good chance he might skip the socks when he realized they sold beer and wine in that store, too. I hope he got a few cans of Vienna's and some tube socks but that wasn't up to me. He got the freedom to choose that day. And that was as much of a gift as the card.

I don't always do this, I don't always see beyond the grime and stigma. But once in a while, a situation arises when I can't look away. And I remember that I might have a piece of plastic that affords me the ability to buy groceries, but I know what it's like to feel desperate. I have a home but I have felt adrift. Felt longing for other-ness. Felt un-noticed un-seen. But for the One who has never failed to lift my face and lock eyes, there I go. But for the gift of Grace, I am broke. But for the Reference Point, I am lost. But for Mercy, I am undone. But for Love, I am nothing. Praise be, for Thy great kindness, O God. Tether-bind my wandering heart to Thee. Selah.