I’ve not been a person known for my strategic thinking. Or planning. Or focusing on details.
The lack of that gifting is definitely a bum-biter.
With the parents gone and Nana in charge, I did what any self-respecting adult would do with four children on a Friday afternoon.
We went to the pet adoption center at a local pet store.
Why would anyone do that, one may ask, if the intent is not to adopt a pet? Why, indeed. Possibilities abound.
I wasn’t considering those possibilities.
Upon arriving at the store, we found a plethora of pups, ranging in age from six months down to ten weeks. All were adorable, as pups are. But this bin of beagle mix sweethearts caught my eye. And I stopped. And my granddaughter, Sydney, reached in and grabbed a little gal that was beyond adorable. The smallest of the six, she was able to draw us in with those beautiful brown eyes.
I was smitten. So was Syd.
We played with her for a bit, and all the kids seemed to enjoy her. So much so that they gave her a name. Chelsea.
Not a girl’s name, mind you. The name of a Premier English Soccer club. Go blue and white.
But you could foster her for the night. Take her home for a trial run.
So without considering any consequences, I signed up.
We got her home. Bathed her. Introduced her to friends and neighbors.
And then we went to the airport to pick up the parents.
At this point, my brain engaged. What had I been thinking?
They’d just gotten rid of a dog that was hyperactive and not family-friendly. Both parents had spoken of choosing a dog as a family, if they actually did decide TOGETHER that a dog was appropriate.
With great talent, I circumvented the whole process. Did it my way.
The kids were thrilled when we picked up their folks. Couldn’t wait to tell them they were fostering a puppy. I got quizzical looks from both. Then they talked of their conference and all they’d learned.
I felt like the kid who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
I knew better. I just didn’t think how my actions had disrespected my daughter and son-in-law. Or what that demonstrated to their kids.
They’ve forgiven me. But it’s hard letting go of what seems to be a recurring issue with me.
“I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway. But if I do what I don’t want to do, I am not really the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it.” Romans 7:19-20
I have this tendency to choose wrong because at my core I don’t have capacity to do consistently what is right. Sin.
Jesus has forgiven me and freed me from that which I can’t free myself–my own brokenness. His grace is my path to hope, freedom and life.
That’s a truth that doesn’t bite.