Tip of My Iceberg

She isn’t what she was.

My daughter and her family rescued a short-haired pointer from the friendly folks at PetSmart several months ago. A sweet gal who was rather timid, she’d been grabbed before certain death at a pound by people who didn’t want to see her put down.

She’s found an outstanding home with Heather’s family. Five kids who love her–most days. The novelty of having a dog has worn a little thin with the realization that dog walking and scooping poop are part of this endeavor.

When May first got to their home, she loved to lounge. She’d lay on the couch with anyone who had a free lap. She had bursts of energy where she’d fetch balls and chase frisbees. And then flop back on the couch.

May’s morphed into Super Scavenger. On steroids.

When I was recently with the kids, May had been relegated to the back yard for jumping on counters and tables. Eating whatever had a scent.

She’d snarfed a whole bag of hot dog buns–plastic twisty tie and all. No clue what that does to a dog’s digestive tract.

She’s none the worse for it. If anything, it’s enhanced her appetite.

She stretches up to the table, using her tongue like a spatula, getting whatever falls from plates. Ryken is eye to eye with her when she confronts him in his high chair. Paws on his tray bigger than his hands.

And quicker.

If they’d known this about May before they got her, it might have been a deal breaker.

She would never have had the chance to become who she really is. To feel free to be all May.

She is a challenge. You have to keep a wary eye on her, with a loud, “No, May, down!” voice that needs to intimidate.

But she’s loved. She’s comfortable with her people.

Can she be trained? Sure. It’ll take a little doing, but she’s a smart dog.

Smart and a little wily.

I have Someone who loves me fully. Who knows me better than I know myself. I take advantage of that mercy and grace at times because I know I’m fully forgiven and loved.

At times I knowingly make poor choices because ornery Dayle shows up–and I know I won’t be abandoned because of it. Consequences, yes. Never rejection.

When I began a relationship with Jesus, He was all in. Taking me as I was. Knowing my capacity for falling short of His glory. Understanding I can be easily swayed by the darkness of this world.

I’m more comfortable in my skin than I’ve ever been because I know I can’t lose His love. Won’t lose His favor.

Can I learn to live more as He would like me to? Sure. I want to.

But I can be wily.

Life in Jesus is the process in real time that teaches me how to be more like Him. It’ll take all the time I’ve left here on earth to see that happen.

Until then, I’m living loved.

It takes pressure off knowing I’ve a home waiting for me.