I ask for forgiveness before I even begin. I’m struggling to be open and honest. I’m struggling, DAILY, to show the world the woman that God made me. Every interaction feels forced and overdone, (or underdone, I’m not sure). My eyes are a bit greyish in color, a lackluster form of their usual piercing blue. Something is out of whack, off kilter, missing.
I have a checklist of things I “go through,” since becoming a believer. It’s my OCD Christian way of making sure I’m talking the talk and walking the walk. List as follows: (1) quiet time daily, (2) reading the bible daily, (3) reading another Christian book by a reputable author on a subject I struggle with, (4) Spending enough time in fellowship, (5) spending enough time alone in order to evaluate my heart, and reevaluate, and reevaluate… (6) Praying all day everyday, (7) fighting spiritual warfare, (8) exercising/eating correctly, (9) journaling, (10) investing and giving to others of my time, money, and energy.
I like lists. I’ve been through this list a hundred times in the past three weeks. I’m checking things off- yet feeling the very same. My mom said something about my dog, Major, this morning…that for whatever reason, the Lord has used to break a bit of the fog.
I really really really love my dog, Major. He is a strapping black lab with sweet eyes, and the most wonderful demeanor. He is truly a gift. My pastor, J.D., always talks about how his kids give him a different perspective of the Lord… and though I have not been blessed with children… the Lord does the same (spare the laughter, people) for me with my dog, Major. Let me explain.
Major teaches me neediness. He cannot feed himself; take himself outside (he doesn’t have opposable thumbs, you see…), bathe himself, and much more. He relies on me. But it’s more than just reliance out of necessity- he delights in asking me for the things he needs, and he does so boldly and honestly. I know what his different barks mean. When he cries, I can instantly diagnose the issue at hand. In my human impatience…there are days and times this neediness tempts me to pull out every hair on my head…but almost just as instantly, there is a thankfulness in his gestures, physical affection, and soft eyes that pull me back to a place of understanding. I lack this neediness. I control all that I can. I know my reasons, and though some may see them as valid, I see them as an excuse. Why don’t I cry to my God the second I need something? Why don’t I thank Him when prayers are answered by wagging my happy tail? Why don’t my eyes soften to Him? Well… I’m working on it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and my heart won’t be refined in one either.
Major delights in spending time with me. He literally follows every step I make around our happy home. He lays on the bathroom floor while I shower (he doesn’t want me to slip…duh), he likes to ride shot gun and go to Oxford Manor on Saturdays, and he loves to cuddle (aka, hog the entire bed). There are times he gets caught up in my feet while I cook in the kitchen, and sometimes I accidently step on him…and say, “Maj, you can’t be there! You are going to get hurt!” WHAT? I’m a bad pet mother. Why would it ever be valid to be upset with a such a sweet little guy… for simply desiring to be CLOSE to me? God would never be upset for me for being too close. He would cherish the moments, and delight in them. I need to seek to be too close, because too close…is just close enough in the eyes of my Savior.
Major teaches me to view myself how the Father views me. I know Major is my dog, and though I have a tendency for being dramatic- he REALLY is the most handsome dog in the world. He should be a doggy model. He is very photogenic! Even outside of the physical, Major has the most wonderful little heart. He pours forth an unconditional love that humans are too depraved to even understand. His HEART is beautiful. Major’s heart is beautiful… because he gives love. He is not hardened. He is not careful. He recklessly gives and gives… no conditions, no checklist, no reasons or ending goal. Unfortunately, I’m a whole other story. I am usually guarded. Much like my dad, I’m an onion… you have to peel me away one layer at a time. I suppose I have both environmental and situational reasons as to why I am this way, but another reason I have found is- I want to see who will “man-up” enough to wait through the proverbial “peeling.” (As if that is an accurate test to see what their intentions are for me.) Recently, I have learned how imperfect my “fail safe” can be. People can infiltrate my interior that should have been pushed away by layer one! So what is the point?
Good question. I’m trying to let my layers fall more quickly and more naturally. It’s not an easy task. I feel exposed. I feel like I’m letting go of the control mechanism. It’s scary. Good thing I have a sweet puppy dog to smile up at me with those sweet brown eyes- to show me how imperfect I am, how much I need my Creator, how I should delight in time spent with the Lord, and teach me what unconditional love should probably look more like.
Just a girl… learning to wag her tail, peel down the layers without causing too many tears, and dodging through this never ending process of refinement.
-Kami
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