Sometimes I love it when my little dog pushes at my hand to be petted. We called him Stanley after Stan Laurel. His hair is spikey and it just goes everywhere. Im sure he has mental issues. He has that vacant look and he will just lay on his back in the middle of the floor for hours. I dont think he loves me...but he does love to be petted. And sometimes petting him is therapeutic for me. Ill find myself rubbing and scratching without any thought of doing it. But then there are times when the push of his nose is more than I can bear. I find myself pushing him away. Ill look down into that clownish face and those expectant eyes and all I can think of saying is...Leave me alone. And...he will do that...for a minute. Maybe its a picture of all that other stuff that I do everyday...almost without thinking. Its there. Its mine to do. I do it without any thought of purpose. I brush my teeth. I unload the dishwasher. I straighten my desk. I answer umpteen phone calls that are about little or nothing. I scratch and I pet. I wonder if Jesus didnt have those moments when the push of the crowd made him want to get away...get perspective...recharge. I wonder if that isnt what was going on when he would say to His disciples...Lets go up into the mountain and pray. The great work of prayer is not about healing all my Stanleys of their itches. Its about healing me and my heart to scratch Stanley...on purpose and with love.
Posted on: Sun, 31 Aug 2014 14:03:29 +0000
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