Doggo

I've been thinking a lot lately about dogs. Not unusual, considering we have dogs at our house. But I mean in a more ethereal sort of way. We've lost two dogs in the past 10 years. We were heartbroken over both of them. They made our lives better, in away that is almost indescribable. Everyone talks about the unconditional love that a dog offers, or the wiggle-butt greetings when you come home. They talk about the "please" face when they want something , or the zoomies that always make you literally laugh out loud. But what is it, exactly, about dogs, that make us carry them outside when they can't do it for themselves any longer, or make them little wheelchairs, or spend our savings at the vet to save them when they've become injured? What makes us sob like we've lost our dearest friend when we watch them pass?

Why do dogs make us feel so much better about ourselves? I feel like, maybe, it's because in part, they accept us unconditionally. It has been said that a dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than it loves itself. Like Jesus, they would die for us without a second thought to themselves. Unlike Him, they can't save our souls, but they can perhaps point it in the right direction. Maybe a dog is just what we need to make us realize what terrible, fragile, awful beings we are and can be. Maybe perhaps they can show us what unconditional love can do for a person. And sadly, what the inevitable loss of that type of love here on earth can do to our beings, what a horrible void it's absence leaves. Be kind to each other , as kind as our dogs would be.

Sunday.

I cleaned and straightened the office, the office closet, purged and shredded the file drawers, returned our closet to a semi-functional state. Shredded a bag of old bills, vacuumed the hallway twice. Cleaned off my desk, added to the donation bag of old clothes. Made a lasagna, planned a weeks worth of meals. Updated my planner, made note of what else I need to do this week. Finished lesson plans for the daycare, laminated and bound a book for story time.  Mopped the kitchen and entry way. 

And so many other things. 

Didn’t call my mom or siblings (are they okay, healthy?) . Didn’t bathe the dogs, didn’t balance the checkbook. Still didn’t finish my classes for daycare. The basement is still a hoarders paradise, I still haven’t had paint matched for the kitchen cabinet touch-ups.  

I did get a Christmas gift finished and wrapped, did pick up paint chips for our (still not painted after 13 years ) bedroom. 

I managed to text both my awesome children whom I don’t see nearly often enough. No one else though. 

Managed to find a few minutes for my devotional, prayed continuously all day long. 

Nothing I do is ever enough. Not ever. I keep trying. Keep praying for everyone I know. Me especially, because I know that I need it so so much. But also for everyone in my life.

We all need those prayers, we all covet them. 

Tomorrow is Monday, and I start the rat race all over again. I’m going to get through somehow, by the grace of God, so I can do it again next weekend. 

I have to.