You'd like to think that having a young puppy would be rife with opportunities to meditate on the wonders of creation, new life, love, and general puppy cuteness.
I spend most my time meditating on poop. More specifically, when and where is it coming?
Curious how Savvy can pee predicably. Her BMs, while blessedly infrequent, seem to bear no relation to what she's fed, when she's exercised, or even how excited she becomes. She has no angst about dropping a present, though if she poops inside, she'll be sure to bark and whine until I clean it up.
Savvy is at least showing some small aptitude of finding a spot that's out of the way. That requires me to dig out a flashlight and hunt down her messes. I am resolved never to let one sit in our yard but to speed and scoop, keeping our lawn pristine and my bare feet free of that sickening "what just squished between my toes" sensation.
Having worked through some issues with my church brethren this past year, it seems to me that crises in the body of Christ seem to follow the same pattern. With all our wisdom, we want to be able to predict when and where but, when we least expect it, some stinky drops in our mist. Sometimes it takes some doing to root it and scoop it before another joins it. Most of the time, we don't smell it until it's spread far and wide.
Oh Lord, if only my spiritual nose and my faithfulness were half as developed as my passion for puppy poop!