Nothing Much, But Love.

The top half was clean. At least that is what I said to myself as the Pekinese trotted by. He or was it a she, no matter, seemed to be totally oblivious to how he looked. Tongue hanging out, smelling everything as it went along. Never stopping long enough to make a complete analysis of any hydrant or light pole. I smiled to myself as I realized I must be in the same predicament. Here I was, track pants, and sweatshirt with a stain on the front from my dinner, or was that lunch? If I were a dog right then I probably looked the same as this Pekinese. Like you, I have seen the Westminster Kennel Club yearly show. On that program we have all seen beautifully primmed dogs. Dogs with a pedigree as long as your arm. These are dogs that not only look clean and bright, but walked right, ran right, stood right and sat perfect. Each owner would decree to everyone the dogs family history. After all, you have to come from the right family. While I sit in my easy chair watching these shows, I wonder if these dogs were ever allowed out. If they ever experience the freedom to run and sniff and do dog things, if they ever get half dirty squeezing under the neighbours fence. I wonder if they are allowed to experience all the things that make up being dogs. We know they are loyal like all dogs. We know their favourite thing changes every minute. Greeting you when you get home, a favourite thing, eating mush from a can, a favourite thing, being scratched behind the ear, a favourite thing, running around the yard, a favourite thing, chewing a shoe, digging up the flower bed, or lying in the sun, all favourite things. To face it, I see myself as a mutt, a mongrel, a Heinz 57, just a common everyday dog. Not much to look at, not much to write home about. But I am me and I enjoy all my favourite things. I am nothing special. No pedigree and no better then anyone else. During the life I live, God has let me do human things. Some mistakes but some good jobs at fetching. They say I even clean up pretty good once and a while. The reason I can be myself is because my master is God Himself. I live to please Him and in doing so I have joy that comes from being by His side and being loved. I have been adopted by the King of King and he lets me be my best self. He loves us no matter where we come from or how we look. On that day, when we hear Him calling, we know He will take us home, clean us up and we will eat at the Masters table. Care to join us?