Clomp clomp boom

So, okay, I admit it....I have become that crazy dog woman. I have resigned myself to the thought that when I am 70 years old, I will live in a house with 30 dogs and they will eat from my dishes (I hope not, but it's looking this way). Why do I say this? Because I have another dang dog post.

Yesterday I saw a blind woman walking downtown with her seeing-eye dog. I have lived in this small town for 14 years now, and this is the first time that I have seen her here....which means she is new in town. So my mind begins to run, "How does she walk to new places?" She must really trust that dog. She has no memory to use to help her navigate, it is total trust. If a step is there, the dog must tell her, if there is a pot hole or a skateboard laying on the sidewalk, the dog must take her around it.

This seems to be a visual of the verse, "We walk by faith, not by sight." 2 Cor. 5:7.

Walk by faith, not by sight....so my eyes should not be trusted in this world? I should walk my spiritual journey by faith...trusting God to warn me when there is a step, or a hole, or a danger in front of me.

I began to wonder what would happened if this young woman ran out ahead of her dog? Oh, I know that sounds silly in this instance, but trust me, I know, I often find myself face down from a fall because I got out ahead of God.

You can teach an old dog new tricks

So, I don't want to be one of those crazy dog people....but what the heck.

Last night I was up in my bedroom and my Becky let Graham in from doing his bidness (business southern style) outside. I heard him coming in and knew what he would do. As soon as he gets in, he begins searching the house for me. So I turned off all the lights and ran into my closet and hid from him.....I know....I'm mean.

I hear Graham run up the stairs, as fast as he can, and I hear him come into my bedroom. All the lights are off, so he thinks I must be downstairs. He runs down the steps as fast as he can and I hear him running all over looking for me....kitchen, living room, dining room.....then I hear him run back up the stairs as fast as he can. This time he checks each bedroom along the way and comes back into my room. He goes into my bathroom, he runs back out and jumps up on the bed....then he runs downstairs as fast as he can. He runs to the downstairs bathroom, he checks the laundry room....back up the steps he runs as fast as he can. He comes into the bedroom and stops....and listens....and I hear his little nose going....then.....sniff, sniff, sniff, SNORT....under the closet door. He has found me.

When I emerge from the closet, his little tail is going crazy....he is patty-caking (his way of saying, "Pet me")....and he is so excited to see me. He is not mad at me for hiding from him....he does not think I am mean....he is just pleased to have found me.

I was convicted in that moment...not for how I hid from my dog....but for how I treat God. I do not, for the most part, run to find Him. I am not relentless in my search for Him at the start of each day....I am not relentless in my search for Him at the end of my day....as a matter of fact....for the most part....I make Him find me.

Okay......maybe I am becoming a crazy dog person.....because God is teaching this old dog a new trick.