Forfeiting Peace

God must look at me sometimes.

And shake His head.

I get that.

Because.

How many times.

Do I forfeit the peace.

He would love to give me.

Because of my own lack of trust.

In Him.


I've been reading this week in Genesis.

Sarah was told she would have a son.

But like me.

She doubted.

She worried.

She was afraid.

She forfeited the peace.

She could have felt.

She could have enjoyed.

If she had trusted Him to do what He said He would do.


I do the same thing.

During that space and time.

Between praying for something.

And seeing Him work it out.

I worry.

Like others in Genesis.

I take matters into my own hands.

Thinking He really must need my help.

I doubt.

I fear.

And I forfeit peace.




"....I look into your mind and see thoughts spinning round and round;

going no where, accomplishing nothing.

All the while, My peace hovers over you,

watching for a place to land.

Be still in My presence,

inviting Me to control your thoughts.

This is the most effective way to receive

My peace."       -- Sara Young

Buddy

He'd been hanging out in our neighborhood in Greenwood.

For weeks.

Shaggy.

Friendly.

Adorable.

All of our neighbors called him by name.

Buddy.

Even now as I think about that.

It's so weird.

Because.

As it turned out.

Buddy didn't belong to anyone in our neighborhood.

At first.

He drifted from house to house.

And then he settled in with us.

We started asking around.

Everybody in Fawnbrook said the same thing.

"He belongs to someone down the street."

But that didn't turn out to be quite true.

We walked our entire subdivision.

Door to door.

Asking if anyone knew who he belonged to.

No one knew.

We checked with the animal shelter.

But to no avail.

That "someone down the street."

Was never found.

That was 15 years ago.

Buddy joined our family.

We gave him a home.

And he gave us quite a lot more.

Love.

Loyalty.

Miles of walks together.

Gentleness.

Acceptance.

I think we came out ahead in the deal.

He was the best.

Buddy.

Loved mud puddles.

Drinking from them.

And walking through them.

He loved to chase squirrels.

And the freedom of a full out run.

He loved to go on walks around Due West.

And roll in the scent or remains of something dead.

He loved our neighbors, the Wilson's.

Cooler weather.

And rolling in the dirt.

While he tolerated our cats.

They adored him.

Which always made him a little nervous, lol.





This last year.

He started to decline.

At 17.

He was an old guy by dog years.

He became thinner.

His back legs grew weak.

His hearing was completely gone.

The light.

That was always in his eyes.

Was all but completely gone.

Scott was Buddy's favorite human.

And he took it hardest of all.

Friday.

We showed Buddy our last act of friendship and love.

In making the decision to put him down.

We said goodbye.

Rubbing his face and ears.

On the vet's table.

Telling him what a good boy he had always been.

Face to face.

Nose to nose.

Not ashamed of all the tears we shed.

As he fell asleep.

We brought Buddy home.

And buried him in a spot we can see from our kitchen window.

The rest of our animal family seemed to sense he was gone.

Gus especially.

He laid out in the middle of the back yard.

Inside Buddy's fence.

For a long time Friday night.

Lucy just watched.



What a sweet blessing he was.

I'm thankful for these years with you.


Sweet friend.