Life lessons from Lucy

I went many years without ever having a desire for a dog.  Of course, 99.9% of those years, I was diapering many small children, begging everyone to, "please stop touching me for heaven's sake," sneaking into the bathroom for alone time, wearing the same soiled tee shirt not only for days on end, but also to bed, and forgetting to breathe.

 So you can't really blame me for not wanting to add a dog into the mix.  I wasn't myself.


Of course years passed, Huggies became a distant memory, and bedtime prayers began centering on one topic.  "Dear God, please, please, please help my mommy and daddy to buy me a dog."  To my way of thinking, that is not fighting fair.  And of course you know what happened.  We caved and brought home a wiggly little furball two years ago, this week.  She has more than wormed her way into my affections, and yet I can't harbor even the slightest resentment toward her.  It's sick really.  And then there's the lessons she so clearly demonstrates for me... the ones I can't seem to work out on my own.

Recently, Lucy was driving me crazy with her ball.  It was bouncing all over the house, getting stuck under things, which would cause her to whine and paw at my couch until I'd get up, bend down and dig out that stupid ball.  Then she'd do it again five minutes later, causing me to mutter, "Alright that's it, we need to get a bigger ball."  Finally, I'd had enough.  I picked it up, intending to put it away.  But when I turned around, there she was, wagging her tail, staring that ball down.  I told her to sit.  She sat, all the while never taking her eyes off the treasure resting in my palm.  I told her to stay and then I moved it up, down, side to side, and her eyes never once left the ball.  I wanted her to look at me, but she was completely fixated on getting that ball back.  At the time it seemed funny...

 ...until I compared it to myself.  And I realized something.  I'm just like Lucy.  When I want something- a fixed relationship, a new clothing item, an answer to prayer, or anything else- I focus entirely on the thing, rather than the Giver of the thing.  It made me wonder... what would improve if I forced myself to look up from the item in God's palm, and into His face instead.  What if I stopped doing what was habit and comfortable, and just rested my eyes on His face alone, waiting for His move?  His command?   I'm willing to bet, things would fall neatly into place a whole lot easier if I did that.

 So though I love my stinky 38 pound mutt to pieces, I don't want to be like her.  I want to surrender my will, and focus on Him.  How about you?  Anything you've been clinging to that He might be asking you to lay down and look not at the thing, but at His face?  Let's do it together...

All to Jesus I surrender; all to Him I freely give.  I will ever love and trust Him, in His presence daily life.  I surrender all, I surrender all.  All to thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all.