If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you’re acquainted with my 8-lb rescue hybrid (mutt), called Laz the Resurrection Dog. Scroll back in my post archives if you’re curious as to how he was coronated with his rather elaborate title, but just to catch you up real quick, his name originally was Yaz (after Spouse’s fave Boston Red Sox baseball player), but last year when wee Yaz’s heart suddenly stopped on the table during a routine procedure at the Vet’s office, the little guy was miraculouslty resusciated and we happily changed his name to remind us Who is large and in charge of even teensy mutt dogs and their graciously allotted days on this earth.
Laz has since developed an endearing habit of rolling out of bed every morning (he wraps himself into a cocoon within his little blankie around 9 pm and then struggles to unknot the dog log he has created when the sun rises), and first thing, even before his morning constitutional, he trots purposefully into the laundry room and checks his red food bowl to see if anything exciting has magically appeared overnight.
Every single day when he checks his bowl, there’s nothing more than a few leftover bits of dry, boring, rejected kibble from dinner 10 hours before, or worse, nothing at all. Yet he never seems to lose hope. Despite cruel, hard experience with chronic failure, hope springs eternal (as my granny used to say) in his confident little canine heart and Laz evidently expects to find something fun and delicious awaiing his delighted discovery.
You can tell by his eager expression that he’s positive it’s just a matter of time before the depressing “way it always is” morphs into a brightly anticipated “Wow! What terrific surprise will be awaiting me today?”
I admire his optimism. I downright covet it.
I, too, want to be Laz-hopeful when I metaphorically check my red bowl every morning for what morsels the day ahead holds. I’m tired of getting up tired and moping around tired through my chai latte and devotion time, and maybe even staying mopey and dopey and blah throughout the day if nothing spectacularly exciting looms ahead.
EVERYTHING exciting looms ahead! I get to breathe in and out all day; my heart will continue to drum and love and reach out to other beating hearts yearning to connect; my knees will bend, my eyes will see, my hands will hold, and my lips will thank my Creator for the miracles of His creation.
After all, “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24).
Yep, rejoice and be glad, dear BFF (Blessed Friend Forever). Even if there’s nothing in your bowl. Yet.
Just ask Lazarus.
There’s always hope for today. Hey, tomorrow too. And that’s a whole lot more exciting than mopey and dopey and blah.
So what’s in your red bowl today, my friend?
*What do you think? Should I surprise the little fella with a bacon treat in his bowl tomorrow morning? I don’t want to give him another heart attack but it sure would be fun to see his reaction.