On days when I think about giving the book to someone 'who needs it more than me' the writing of our names keeps it in my hands. I imagine the awkward moment when the inscription of our names is discovered, my feeble attempts at explaining why I passed it on without finishing, the unspoken message that perhaps it isn't such a good book after all.
"Go gently through this day, keeping your eyes on Me."
—excerpt Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young, Oct 18, page 305
Today, in the photo there are dog bones and a butter dish. Is there a point? I'm not sure. The butter dish is by Longaberger Pottery, a remnant of our years of gluttony, when money was easily spent. The dog bones are treats for our canine companions, Dozer and Harley.
Companionship. Friendship. Walking together. Being gentle.
Harley and Dozer never doubt. Several times a day at the end of each walk, time spent in our yard, or a ride in the car, the dogs come into the kitchen and wait for the treats. Confident in the caregivers. Ready to receive our affection.
"For I know the plans I have for you," says the LORD.
"They are plans for good and not for disaster,
to give you a future and a hope."
I will someday gift my daily companion, the book of 365 days. But not today. There are 91 days yet to be embraced. Time to grow and learn, become more confident in The Caregiver, ready to receive Jesus' affection. For now, the book belongs in my hands. There is no one who needs it more than me.