Rainy Day I stretch, toss Panda gently onto the wet grass, duck back under the eaves hoping my pup will do her business, meaning business, and come right back to me, so we can retreat to dry inside. Panda Girl doesn’t get it. Rather, she prances like the princess she is all the way across the yard, high-born head and flag tail regal both held high. She turns as if to summon me, What are you waiting for? “Panda, come,” I command. She tilts her head. No. You come, her stance manifests. She stays, tail wagging, sky leaking moisture all over her seven-pound self. Yesterday’s grass clippings cling to her black and white fur with leaves and other bits of yard debris. I sigh, start out with shoulders scrunched, head bowed to let my back take the brunt of today’s assault on earth. Panda sees and circles joyful, plants feet, barks, See! I told you! The water’s fine. I lift head, straighten shoulders, relax, and walk in the wonder: my rain-dancing dog’s right. * * * Photo by A A on Unsplash
Is something wrong with me that I struggle to write about Christian holidays for Christian holidays? It seems expected; prompts and requests abound. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to respond on paper or screen. Every attempt comes out artificial, strained, or stale. Morsels with wondrous potential seem only half-baked, far from ready for reader savoring. I ponder faith deeply during these times, seek fresh insights, talk them over with God. That when Jesus died on the cross, in that moment, He took all the sins of the whole world committed through all time right into His God-man Self, became a vacuum ingesting all heinous evil ever, then somehow said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:24, NIV). In that moment, His moment of greatest weakness, He revealed God’s power supreme to the world. Or that Jesus’ death wasn’t to appease the out-of-control anger of a wrathful god, but to pay death’s demanded ransom. Our one, true God loves us all so m...